It was the shell of Jaime Lannister that trudged along the corridor to his brother's solar the morning after he had confessed his reasons and his love to Brienne. He had bared his whole heart to her, explained every purpose there had been for leaving her. There was nothing left in the pit of his soul when he finished. Brienne had not refused him, she had not scoffed. She had listened, given him the chance for which he yearned, and she had understood. He was certain she recognized his logic. Jaime had seen the flames of love burning as brightly in Brienne's eyes as it did his own full heart, only to watch them then dimmed by the pain and hurt he had caused. He hoped this day might be a new beginning, however, as the sun rose Jaime found little cause for joy.
Jaime had not even attempted to sleep after leaving Brienne's quarters in the early morning. He had helped the woman he adored settle their son into his cradle, and then he laid her back upon the sheets of her warm bed as he had hoped to do. In the place of the night of passion for which he dreamed, he simply placed a soft kiss at her temple, covered her gently with the quilt to keep her warm, and left her chamber without saying a word. He had not seen the tears Brienne could no longer fight as she watched him retreat. Sitting awake in his own empty billet for the remainder of the night, Jaime stared into the fire which smoldered in the hearth, hoping to find some answer in the flames that would tell him how to win back her trust.
With the light of day, he barely noticed when he leaned against the dark oak door of Tyrion's quarters. His shoulder thudded upon the wood as he nudged open the heavy panel. Jaime shuffled across the floor and slumped into the chair opposite his brother at a table already set with platters of steaming fare. He sighed heavily and stared over the dishes to where Tyrion was busy breaking his fast. The younger Lannister did not even acknowledging Jaime was in the room until he had swallowed a large mouthful of sausages and washed it down with a generous gulp of wine.
"I did not think I would be seeing you until later." Tyrion raised his head and began to give his brother a wicked sneer. He had assumed Jaime would still be occupied in Brienne's bed. Upon noticing his older brother's disheveled appearance and the somber aspect of his stare, Tyrion quickly realized his expectation of the celebration of a rekindled love was apparently somewhat premature.
"You look like shit." Tyrion announced. "I assume your conversation with Ser Brienne did not go as you had hoped." He commented, wondering just how Jaime could have botched the declaration of his own feelings to the woman he loved.
"It did not." Jaime lamented,
"Ser Brienne did not believe you?" Tyrion questioned, his face registering a mild shock, but not an altogether unexpected one. "Did you not reveal to her all that was in your heart?" He continued. "Did you not prostrate yourself on the ground before her, and beg for her forgiveness?" Tyrion questioned.
Jaime raised his eyebrow at Tyrion's inquiry, yet the rest of his face did not follow. "I did." He nodded. "She believed me." He reported, almost surprised. "Brienne said that she understood." A glimmer of hope passed over his face. "I know she still loves me. I could see it in her eyes." He relayed, before his expression fell even further. "It is the forgiveness part that she cannot grant me." He sighed heavily. "I cannot blame her." Jaime shook his head sadly, his eyes distant and forlorn.
"Nor can I." Tyrion agreed with a slow nod. "The grief and pain in which she faced bringing your son into the world without you must have been immeasurable." He stated with certainty. "Surely far too great a burden to be assuaged with one single confession." Tyrion conjectured.
At the truth of Tyrion's words, Jaime squeezed shut his eyes and leaned back his head, attempting to hide from the monster of regret that was his creation. "Whose side are you on, Brother?" He shouted.
Tyrion took another great swallow of wine and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin before throwing it down angrily upon the table. "I was not aware there were sides." He corrected. "Simply two people very much in love, and both in a great deal of pain." He observed, sympathetically. "However, if I must choose a side, it would be little Galladon." Tyrion declared, slipping from his seat and stomping toward Jaime in a huff. "He deserves both of his parents, together and happy." He affirmed, standing challengingly before Jaime. "Now, stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something." Tyrion demanded, urging Jaime to fight for the woman he loved.
Jaime regarded Tyrion in defeat. "What would you have me do? It is up to Brienne, is it not?" He said, trying to accept the belief that he was powerless to determine the outcome of the situation.
"Well, let us examine the history of your relationship with Ser Brienne." Tyrion stroked his beard and turned to pace studiously along the length of the table. "Think of your courtship." He urged.
"Courtship?" Jaime questioned, unsure if what he and Brienne had experienced could exactly be described in those terms.
"Exactly!" Tyrion shot back, as if reading Jaime's mind. "You detailed to me how you jumped into a pit to save her from a bear at Harrenhal. Then, you ran back to Kings Landing to hide behind Cersei's skirts. You both fought the dead at Winterfell. You shared her bed for a moon, and then left her in the middle of the night." He recounted, a little too glib for Jaime's liking. "Oh, and that's right, there's the matter of the child you share with her." Tyrion knew he was treading dangerous ground, but he could not stand to see Jaime so dejected. He needed to work his brother up to a maddened frenzy if that is what it would take for Jaime to stop moping about and take charge of his own happiness.
Jaime stared angrily back at Tyrion as he approached on his return from the far corner of the table. "Why are you dredging up the whole story?" He asked ruefully. "Don't you think I know that it is my dreadful choices which have brought us to this impasse?" Jaime continued, the venom in his tone directed more at himself than at Tyrion.
"I am simply illustrating that you and she have had a rather unconventional past, as couples go." Tyrion said calmly. "Perhaps, it is time you convinced her, that she belongs with you, just as you do with her." He smiled graciously, as he walked back to retrieve his near empty goblet of wine.
"Convince her? Jaime still did not follow Tyrion's meaning, and he was quickly losing what little patience he had left.
Tyrion's face grew frustrated from the effort of trying to impart his brilliant idea to his love sick brother. "Woo her, Jaime." He announced, toasting his own thought with the last drop of wine left in his cup. "Make her realize that there is no way she could possibly spend another moment without you." He smirked, flicking his brow suggestively.
Jaime gave a deep sigh, and sat back against the tall ornate chair that held him. He thought for a moment, wondering just how one went about pursuing the affections of a woman. He had never needed to follow those conventions. He had never courted Cersei. Their dalliances had begun before he had even realized what was happening, when they shared a bed as children. It was his own sister who had instigated their nightly carnal explorations. He shuttered at the image, as his stomach turned.
With Brienne, it had been so different, so precious and pure. Yet, still he could not say he had ever set out to win her affections. Those feelings between them had always been there, before either had acknowledged their existence. When at last, the time came to share their bodies, neither could fight what had built up to a passionate need. It had been the obvious next step to both of them. So long they had been in love with each other, that the physical could not be denied any longer.
As he thought of the time he had spent in Brienne's arms, with her as the only woman in the world to him, Jaime felt himself relaxing. He pictured those rituals he had seen other men enjoy with their fair ladies. Brienne deserved that kind of attention. She had received precious little of it in her life, and he wanted to be the one to lavish such care upon her. He thought, perhaps, it might be fun. A nervous energy began to take hold of him, and he smiled dreamily, eager to begin his wooing of Ser Brienne of Tarth.
— — —————-
Later that same morning, Jaime sat at the Small Council table, so close to Brienne that he was certain she could hear the pounding of his racing heart. The threat posed by the incroaching Essosi troops still loomed large on the horizon. As Master of War, Jaime reported to the King on the strength and numbers of his troops, the inventory of weaponry in the arsenal which protected the Capital and the Keep. He detailed his plan for recruiting the help of the kingdoms of Westeros in supplying troops and materials should the need arise, and did his best to attend to matters at hand despite his aching heart.
"I have received word from Queen Sansa, that the North would of course support any defense of Kings Landing." Jaime informed King Bran. "The West, The Stormlands, and The Reach have also pledged men and supplies." He nodded, trying not to make it appear too obvious that his thoughts were diverted by the woman next to him.
"I am quite certain my father will pledge ships from his navy to the effort." Brienne spoke up, attempting to make her assistance to Jaime as inconspicuous as possible. "I shall send a Raven, at once, to secure The Evenstar's pledge." Seated as she was, angled away from Jaime and facing the King, The Master of War could still see the thoughful slide of her gaze in his direction. He took it as a hopeful sign.
"Thank you, Ser Brienne." King Bran gave his usual vague smile of approval. "I am sure we can count on Lord Selwyn's loyalty." He affirmed.
"Especially since his daughter, and his grandson might both be in jeopardy if the Capital comes under attack." Bronn chuckled at his own a feeble attempt at humor.
Ser Davos cleared his throat and glared at Bronn from across the table. "We will all be in danger if that happens." He corrected the hung-over Master of Coin. "I have no doubt that we will be able to turn to any of the loyal Lords of the Realm in time of crisis." He corrected.
"Of course, Ser Davos." Bronn sneered, but prudently said nothing more, so as not to seem disrespectful to the Crown.
King Bran let the remark pass without reproach. Bronn's words, however, settled like a dark cloud over Jaime. While his methods were harsh, the Lord of Highgarden was correct. An Essosi attack would put Brienne and Galladon directly into the path of imminent danger. It was a threat, he could not abide. Brienne would never agree to leave, of that he was certain. Her duty, her honor, and her position would make it impossible. At least they could battle together, as they had done at Winterfell. They had managed to keep each other alive through the long night of the dead, surely even an entire Essosi army could be no worse. But what of little Galladon? Even at their best they could not fight and see to his protection at the same time. He wondered if Brienne would agree to send him away, far from the city where there would be no threat, perhaps to Evenfall or Winterfell. There had to be a way to keep them both safe, however, first he had to earn her trust.
Throughout the remainder of the morning Jaime's mind whirled with possibilities, each more dire than the last. He barely heard Ser Davos detailing the strength and fortitude his naval forces. Jaime listened to none of Bronn's concerns over the financing of defensive provisions. He would fund the whole defensive effort with Lannister gold if he had to. Jaime tried his best to attend to Tyrion's reports of Essosi troop movements, realizing that it was that distant foreign army which could put those he loved most in peril. Jaime swore to himself that he would do anything to ensure that Brienne and Galladon were safe.
"We have enough medicinal supplies to care for more wounded than four Winterfells." Samwell Tarly's voice drew Jaime from his thoughts as the man answered King Bran's questioning of the readiness of his staff to care for the injuries of battle. Perhaps it was his mention of Winterfell, or possibly it was the knowledge that the young Maester's wife now cared for Jaime's own son. They had two small children, one not much older than Galladon. Their youngest was still at his mother's breast as Galladon was. Tarly would be capable of shepherding a woman and children to safety. The snippet of an opportunity began to form in Jaime's mind, should the need arise.
Before Jaime knew it, the meeting had adjourned, and it participants milled slowly from the Council chamber. As he stood, Brienne passed silently behind him, on her way to see to her duties. Jaime felt his heart fall into the hallow space in his gut, as she barely acknowledged his presence that morning. He remained motionless behind his chair, his eyes focussed ahead of him, unable to bare watching her go. Jaime swallowed his regret, his eyes his falling upon Tyrion's serious expression. As Brienne neared the door, Tyrion nudged his head urgently in her direction, and stared intensely at his brother.
Seeing his chance slipping away from him, Jaime jumped to reach Brienne before she disappeared through the threshold. "Ser Brienne." He beckoned as he rushed to her side. Brienne turned, almost nervously at his call. "Might I have a word?" He implored.
Brienne settled her breathing, and tried to chase all emotion from her face, her hand traveling instinctively for the comfort of Oathkeeper's hilt. "Of course, Ser Jaime." She answered, hoping his only purpose for catching her attention was to discuss the training of soldiers, or strategies for fortifying the Keep.
Cautiously, Jaime choked on his words. "I...I was hoping I might call upon you this evening." He stuttered. "To..to visit with Galladon." He covered bashfully, far too self conscious in his inexperience to reveal that he was asking to keep company with her.
Brienne squirmed with discomfort for a moment before taking a calming breath, and lowering her chin in thought. "I do not see any reason why you should not spend time with your son." She admitted. She hoped he had decided to continue his presence in the boy's life, despite her suspicions to the contrary the previous night. "I believe that would be agreeable." She conceded. Through her armor, Jaime did not see the quickness of her breath as her heart fluttered with excitement. In light of his admission of love for her, Brienne felt oddly joyful, yet at the same time disconcertingly flustered by the thought of being so near the man she loved.
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The afternoon was growing late, and the butterflies that circled within Brienne's stomach were growing larger. She had dressed and redressed at least half a dozen times, finding none of the similar styles in her wardrobe acceptable. Even as her nerves told her she should be frantic, her brain tried to reject the idea that she was suffering a severe bought of anxiety. If it had not all been so overwhelming, she would have laughed at herself. Jaime had announced his purpose to her earlier as merely calling upon them to visit Galladon. Yet, she felt as though she were a young girl meeting her betrothed for the first time. Brienne shook the idea from her mind. She was not an innocent maiden. Jaime knew every inch of her. She had born him a son. Brienne found no understanding in the fact that she was more agitated then when they had stood together and watched the dead approaching Winterfell.
Brienne stopped scurrying about her bed chamber to regard her reflection in the small mirror that stood on an out of the way tabletop. She ran her hand over her cheek, and pressed her forefinger along the crease between her eyes trying to smooth the line. The blood rushing to the surface of her skin as a result of her frenetic energy gave her cheeks a becoming pink hue. 'It softens my features.' She thought approvingly to herself. The waning sunlight of those hours before evening shone through the window and bounced invitingly around the room. It reflected in her eyes, making them sparkle. Their bright blue almost glowed, giving them a light all their own. Brienne was not sure if the effect was truly due to the angled rays of the sun, or her own racing heart.
She wore a loosely woven cream colored tunic, which illuminated her pale blonde hair. The light linen trickled over her skin like water. Although she wore a chemise beneath the fabric, the material skimmed along the curves of her bodice, showing off her breasts in a fashion that would normally have mortified her. However, perhaps this day was different. She had never given much thought to whether her appearance was pleasing. To most she had known, it had never been so. To herself it had mattered little. She had never found anything about her outward aspect with which to be happy nor unhappy about. It had never been a luxury afforded to her. She was simply Brienne of Tarth, warrior, and she had made that enough for her.
Brienne's thoughts went back to that rainy night weeks ago, that she and Jaime had first dined together in Kings Landing. He had stood so close to her she could feel his breath on her neck. He had called her beautiful. Not the cruel hateful joke of those fools who had attended her father's ball, but an earnest compliment. She recalled their time at Winterfell, once more. Wrapped in his arms, feeling his hungry mouth feasting upon her skin. His parched lips had thirsted for her kiss, and had seemed so satisfied when she granted him relief. He had made her feel beautiful. She had at last known what it was be desired. Mere hours past, Jaime has knelt before her and declared that he loved her, had always loved her. Instinctively Brienne's fingers grazed over the long jagged scars at the base of her neck. That bear at Harrenhal had done it's best to take her head off. It had been Jaime who saved her. Somehow, a hideous vestige of terror had become for her a symbol of his adoration and protection. He had loved her then as she had loved him, before either had even realized the depth of their commitment to each other. How she wanted to believe him now.
As Brienne stood, lost in thought, Galladon's happy laugh sounded from the mound of pillows by which he was surrounded on her bed. The music of her child's voice brought her back to the present. His giggles seemed almost as if he were chiding her. She answered him with a joyous laugh of her own, as she turned to watch his precious expression. "Are you laughing at me?" She cooed back at her smiling babe.
The boy tilted his head at her question as if he understood. "Your mother is being silly." She smiled in agreement as she crossed the room and scooped Galladon into her arms. "Your father said he was coming to see you." Brienne kissed Galladon's forehead and nuzzled him close. "He will probably not even notice I am in the room." She nodded, half hoping that would be the case. As she again placed her lips softly to her babe's head, the revelry of mother and son was disrupted by a polite knocking from down the hallway upon the entrance door of their quarters.
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Traveling the corridor toward Brienne's chambers had seemed to Jaime to stretch a lifetime. He was unsure if it was nervousness or excitement which slowed his steps and hampered his movements. During none of the battles in which he had ever fought had his heart ever fluttered with such severity. 'Woo her.' Tyrion had said. But, just how did one go about wooing the woman he loved? For that matter, how exactly did one seek the affections of his true soul mate, the woman he already knew intimately, the mother of his child? With his palms sweating, and his heart in his throat, Jaime nervously knocked upon the door of Brienne's apartments.
After what seemed an eternity, which Jaime tried to use to calm his haggard breathing, the door opened to reveal the the people most precious to him in all the world. Brienne stood upon the threshold, their son in her arms, glowing with ethereal grace and beauty. She took his breath away.
A timid smile washed over Brienne's face as she regarded her blushing caller. Jaime was certain her happiness was in repose to his arrival, in actuality she could not pretend that she did not find his obvious apprehension amusing. It reminded Brienne of when Jaime had followed her steps to her chamber at Winterfell, when they shared their first night of passion. She found the look on his face quite adorable.
"Hello." Jaime stammered tentatively, returning her smile lovingly.
Brienne shifted the babe on her hip. "Hello." She answered softly, trying to control her own blush. Galladon squealed with delight at the sight of his father. He reached out his arms and stretched for Jaime's grasp.
Jaime's joyfully took the child from Brienne into his arms. The shy awkwardness of his stance disappeared, and he beamed at Galladon. Brienne moved aside allowing him to enter the rooms which had witnessed his confession to her just the night before. Despite the inability to forgive that still cautioned her mind, she felt her heart melting to see father and son together.
With an air of uncertainty between them, Brienne closed the door quietly as she and Jaime moved further into the parlor. "Would you like to have a seat?" Brienne offered sweetly, motioning toward Jaime's usual chair. "Or I could spread a quilt on the terrace, if you would like to entertain Galladon outside." She suggested remembering Jaime's stated purpose of visiting with their son. Brienne laughed at the happiness in the child's eyes as he burrowed his face against Jaime's neck.
"Actually." Jaime looked hopefully at Brienne. "I thought we might stroll with him in the gardens, together." He proposed, his eyes at once eager yet fearful that she might refuse.
Brienne caught her breathe, a mild shock evident upon her features. Although the better part of the afternoon once her duties were concluded had been spent preparing for his arrival, she had truly not expected that her time with Jaime would be any more than greetings and farewells. She cast her eyes demurely down for a moment, her chest filling with fright. Alone with him, she feared she may not be able to resist his pleading, should he choose to present his case to her once more. When Brienne raised her eyes to Jaime, and beheld the sheer reverence in his expression, suddenly a turn through the blossoms with him was all she wanted in the entire world.
Brienne gave a small curtsy of acceptance as her gaze melted into his. "I think that would be agreeable." She smiled, guardedly.
"Very well." Jaime nodded pleasantly. He turned toward the egress and motioned Brienne ahead of him. "After you, My Lady." He said chivalrously. Galladon cooed his approval.
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Brienne and Jaime rambled for nearly an hour through the paths of the gardens of the Red Keep, almost in silence. Both found their nerves forcing precedence over their manners. Galladon, still perched contentedly in his father's arms, had given up trying to instigate conversation between his parents and was occupying himself twisting the laces of Jaime's gambeson into tiny unintentional knots. The orange rays of sunset were gradually giving way to the purple gray of evening when Jaime and Brienne finally halted their wandering beside the stone barricade that dropped off to the sea on the other side. The railing was overgrown with delicate bright red roses, the color of his Sigil. The blooms were framed by the light blue of the ocean beyond, the color of House Tarth. It was if nature itself was creating a stage for their love. Jaime found the scene somehow fitting.
Brienne drew in a long slow breath of the warm breeze which blew so thick from the Narrow Sea that she could almost taste the salt upon her tongue. "It is a lovely evening." She remarked, trying not to make eye contact with Jaime.
He regarded her for the length of a breath. Jaime wanted to tell Brienne that the sunset was made even more beautiful by her standing in its light. Instead he simply nodded. "Yes." He agreed. "A perfect night for a stroll." He finished, wanting to slap himself in the face for his ordinary choice of words.
Brienne merely took another deep breath and focused her attention on some unimportant speck across the waves. She winced a little inwardly. Brienne never found herself at a loss for words, especially with Jaime. In the beginning, when they had first traveled together and insults were their only banter, she had answered his every aspersion in kind. Later, when she realized that she loved him, holding her own in answer to his wit and sarcasm had proved little challenge. Brienne found it strange, almost unbearable that now when she knew the depths of his love for her and all that he had done for her, she should find it so difficult to converse with him. She wished she could crawl away and hide.
As if he sensed his parents' apprehension, Galladon twisted in Jaime's arms and began to whimper. Instinctively, Brienne reached to retrieve their son into her comforting embrace. Jaime relinquished the babe, and stretched his tight shoulders. In just the few days he had been away from his care of Galladon, it seemed the boy had grown half again.
"He is getting big." Jaime chuckled, flustered by the thought of having missed yet more of his son's life.
Brienne grew melancholy at Jaime's innocent observance. "It seems but only moments since he was first laid in my arms." She recalled, her eyes sweetly distant, picturing her child's birth. Jaime's face fell, as he lamented that he had not been there.
Jaime looked proudly at Brienne, thinking of all she had done for their babe. "You have born us a fine son." He paid her tribute, as he stroked Galladon's sleepy head. "I can imagine none more worthy of pride." He declared, happily. Brienne answered his homage with a grateful smile.
He cleared his throat, hoping he had not overstepped another boundary. "That is, if you wish people toknow that I am his father." He commented innocently, concerned that Brienne may still wish Galladon's true paternity to remain a secret.
Brienne sighed with amusement as a soft smile found her face. "I do not think that is an issue any longer." She told him. "I believe everyone knows that this child is your son." She did not seem upset by the admission. Jaime concurred with a grin of his own.
Jaime's thoughts raced ahead of caution, as he pictured the life he wanted to share with Galladon and Brienne. "Perhaps someday, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, you might consider allowing him to take my name?" Jaime offered. There was no resentment in his wish, no animosity, simply the love of a father hoping to provide for his son and that boy's mother. He prayed Brienne would not take offense at his lapse in judgment.
The only indication that Brienne found anything remotely objectionable in Jaime's suggestion was the slight rigid line that her shoulder assumed as she sighed. When she gazed at Jaime there was more compassion in her expression than anger. "Please, let us not think of bitterness or offense." She begged. "This evening is so enjoyable, we should not mar it with talk of the future. We do not know what it might bring." Brienne said, painfully. She did not tell Jaime, that since he had left her, she had found herself little capable of imagining her days any farther than the present.
"Of course." Jaime agreed, relieved that he had not angered Brienne. "I would not tarnish our time together for anything." He told her, his loving stare reveling in the sight of her comforting their babe.
For a moment, Jaime simply beheld Brienne, trying to commit the moment to memory. Then, an urge struck him so strong and irrepressible that he had no wish to fight it. Jaime turned from Brienne and searched the hedge before which they stood. He smiled when finally he found his quarry. He bent to effortlessly plucked a perfect red rose blossom from the vines that had entwined themselves around the stones of the railing overlooking the sea. His face held the worship of adoration as he presented it to her.
Jaime swallowed nervously, and spoke. "It pales in comparison to your extraordinary eyes, My Lady." He admitted as he bowed in admiration.
Brienne blushed as she accepted the token. A shy smile crossed her lips as she lifted the blossom from Jaime's fingers and inhaled its intoxicating fragrance. "Thank you." She whispered, a bit unsure. In her awkwardness, Brienne bit her lip daintily. No one had ever given her flowers before.
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The following morning Brienne arose early. She fed and prepared Galladon for the day and saw him to the Tarlys' apartments where Gilly would care for him while his mother was busy with the duties of Lord Commander. As she supervised her Guard, and detailed the ordered of the day, Brienne could not distract herself from Jaime's confession to her a few evenings prior. It had been on her mind ever since he told her the real reason he had returned to Kings Landing. She wanted to believe him. It would be a place to begin to forgive him. However, the pain he had caused her, and the heartache through which she had suffered had been such that her methodical and practical nature had to be certain. Brienne decided to confirm the story from it's source.
She steeled herself and strode purposefully to the solar of the Master of Coin. Normally, Brienne would not have considered seeking out Ser Bronn's assistance in any matter, most especially not her personal life. However, the account that Jaime had detailed to her a few nights earlier had included a horrendous revelation in which the new master of Highgarden had played a major role. After all that had occured, Brienne needed to confirm these events before she could give Jaime the benefit of the doubt.
As expected, Bronn was not alone in his quarters. Brienne heard the giggles of some unknown female as her knock sounded upon the door.
"Who is it?" Ser Bronn's aggravated wail carried through the thick oak panel.
"Ser Brienne of Tarth." His caller answered with a dignified pride in her voice.
In the lengthy moments it took for Bronn to answer the call, Brienne could picture the rolling of eyes, and the redressing of naked bodied. She shuttered at the thought. A short time later the door opened to reveal an extremely annoyed Ser Bronn, and a far too amused young woman of questionable repute.
"Lord Commander." Bronn announced loudly, over exaggerating his deference to her title. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?" He snarled through gritted teeth.
Brienne cleared her throat uncomfortably. "There is a matter of...of business I need to speak to you about." She answered uncomfortably.
Before Bronn extended a very hesitant invitation to Brienne, he turned his attentions to the girl with whom he had been passing the time. "Please excuse me, My Dear." Bronn took the simpering girl by the hand and placed a gallant kiss upon her knuckles as he guided her through the door between himself and Brienne. He pinched her cheek and smiled sweetly at her. "I will find you later." He promised as the object of his momentary affection slipped off in search of an alternate form of income. Brienne stepped aside in disgust.
Bronn grinned, and gestured for Brienne to enter his solar, bowing low in mock respect. "After you." He acquiesced.
Brienne nodded, her hand finding Oathkeeper's calming hilt. "Forgive my intrusion." She decided politeness would serve her inquiries better than contempt. "I shall try not to take up much of your time." She told him, hoping there would be no need to remain long.
"Not to worry." Bronn chuckled carelessly. "There's more where she came from." Brienne found his self-amused smirk infuriating.
"Of course." She said, eager to change the subject, as Bronn seated himself at his desk and tried to appear imposing. Brienne remained near the door.
Brienne took a deep breath, focused on some point over Bronn's shoulder and began. "Ser Jaime has imparted some details regarding his last days in the North that were previously unknown to me." She said stiffly.
An almost anticipative laugh enimated from Bronn's throat. "He told you, didn't he?" Bronn asked, amused.
"Told me what?" Brienne eyed him suspiciously.
Bronn shrugged. "I knew he would." He nodded, grabbing a plump bunch of grapes from a nearby plate, and popping one nonchalantly into his mouth.
"Told me what?" Brienne repeated forcefully.
"That he and Lord Tyrion weren't the only ones on Queen Cersei's kill list." He reported dryly.
Brienne swallowed hard, and lowered her head. "Ser Jaime said that you had been sent North to also kill me, upon command of the Queen." The voicing of her ordered demise was now harder than she had expected. Her blood ran cold to think that her child's life, at that time yet undiscovered, had also been in jeopardy.
Bronn nodded the affirmative. "That I was." He answered plainly. "I sent to kill all three of you." He informed her. "I was ordered to bring the Queen your head." He found no joy in relaying that detail to Brienne. He found no shame in it either. It was simply a fact.
"I see." Brienne replied, her jaw set like the steel of the blade that hung at her side upon the confirmation of Jaime's tale. "Yet we are all still live?" Brienne said almost rhetorically.
"Aye." Bronn concurred, leaning back in his chair. "I considered it more of a business arrangement than a mission." He grinned.
Brienne found amusement in his statements, and snickered to herself. "Highgarden." She nodded, recalling Jaime's admittance that it was the promise of the grand estate that had kept Bronn from ending all of their lives.
"Yeah." He sighed. "I figured the chances of procuring my castle, and keeping my neck unsliced were better with the Lannister brothers than that cunt sister of theirs." His expression turned sour. "Cersei Lannister would have had my head in a spike before I made it back to my billet once I returned to Kings Landing." He said with certainty. Brienne knew he was correct.
"That explains letting them live." She raised her eyebrow with confusion. "But what about me? Why did you not see my execution through?" She questioned.
Bronn raised his hand as if waving away a bad memory. "My first kill was a woman, out of necessity." He admitted. "I never found much stomach for slaying females after that." He attempted to sound honorable.
"Not even for whatever reward Cersei might have given you?" Brienne grilled him. "Surely at least my head would have been better than none." She wagered.
"In your case it wasn't so much that which concerned me, as my life?" Bronn informed her. Brienne squinted quizzically at him.
Bronn arose and sauntered to where Brienne stood next to the open door. "My Lady." He bowed his head. "If I had killed you, and left them alive, Ser Jaime would taken my head." Bronn told her. "There would have been no place in these Seven Kingdoms I could have hidden from that man's wrath." Bronn affirmed.
"Yet, you risked incurring the wrath of the Queen?" Brienne questioned, even as Bronn's affirmation of the revenge Jaime would have exacted sunk in. "Surely, Cersei would have seen you executed for ignoring her orders and leaving us alive." She predicted.
Bronn chortled, nearly choking on his laughter. "At that moment, the only thing Cersei Lannister was headed for was a dungeon cell and a noose." He told Brienne. "She was no match for the Dragon Queen." Bronn assured Brienne.
Brienne eyed him with apprehension. "Cersei had more soldiers." She corrected. "Daenarys' troops were battle weary. There numbers had been decimated at Winterfell." Even the most rudimentary of military training would have told someone Daenarys was destined to lose that match, Brienne thought.
Again, Bronn chuckled. "She had the dragons. Daenarys Targaryen would have been the victor, no doubt." Bronn reminded. "That is until that Greyjoy fool bungled his way into ambushing the Dragon Queen, and killed one of those great nasty beasts." Bronn shook his head a little. "Once those Dragons reached Kings Landing, Cersei would not have lived through the day. Without even one, that Lannister bitch's victory was almost assured." He proclaimed.
Brienne tried to hide her shock. After the battle with the dead, Jaime had decided to stay in the North with her. He declared it with certainty. She had even reported such to Sansa and Daenarys. Her stomach hollowed as she thought of how it had all changed. It was a short time after Jaime had spent the day drinking in the Winter Town with his brother. She knew now that they had spoken with Bronn in the tavern. Later, it was learned from Sansa that Cersei's forces had ambushed Daenarys' troops. Jaime's manner had changed in that very moment. The carefree happiness with which he had lived in their dream was replaced by a preoccupied pensiveness. Looking back, Brienne had assumed it was sadness that his sister was in danger, and would probably die. Brienne understood now that she had been wrong.
She realized that was the moment in time Jaime knew that it was her own life that would have been in jeopardy if Cersei won. Once that dragon had been lost and Daenarys' fleet weakened, that dire threat became a very real possibility. It had been in that instant Jaime determined he would have to leave to ensure Cersei died. Brienne felt his dilemma as if it were her own, he had needed to break her her heart to save her life. The knowledge nearly made Brienne dizzy, as everything she had assumed about Jaime's leaving seemed mistaken.
Brienne was silent for a moment, trying to take in the full meaning of what Bronn had told her. "So what Ser Jaime told me was the truth?" She finally asked, trying not show her relief.
Bronn nodded. "Every bit of it." He assured her. Despite Brienne's best efforts to keep her emotions under control, Bronn could see her visibly relax as some of the turmoil within her abated.
"That son of a bitch loves you." Bronn declared. "I've been all over Westeros, been around all kinds." He described. "I have never, in all my days, seen any fool as desperately in love as Jaime Lannister is with you." He told Brienne.
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Brienne felt numb as she followed along the corridors of the Red Keep returning to the Round Room, and the responsibilities which awaited her there. She doubted, however, whether she would be able to conclude any of the chores that were her duty, as preoccupied as her minds was with thoughts enough to distract the best of her intentions. The only subject upon which Brienne could focus was Jaime. Bronn had confirmed everything Jaime had confessed. He truly had left her to protect her. Everything Jaime had done since his return to her life had shown the depth of his love for her, and for Galladon. Still, she could not forget all between them that had broken her heart. It weighed like a stoned upon her. The bricks that had nearly taken him from the world, had left her heart battered and scared. Brienne feared, she would never be able to give it life again. She cursed her pride and self-respect, for it was them that refused to take a chance on Jaime again. They were the reasons she found forgiving him so difficult.
Brienne berated herself as she reached the White Sword Tower. She wanted to grant Jaime the forgiveness for which he longed. However, something deep within her could not enjoy the freedom to absolve what he had done. Perhaps, it never would. Brienne was deep in her agonizing thoughts as she entered the Round Room. What she found there, stopped her in her tracks, and brought a gasp to her lips. She stood in the doorway, frozen like a statue.
Upon hearing Brienne enter, Jaime straightened over the Weirwood table upon which he had set the preparations for a mid-day meal. He turned and brightened the surroundings with a wide, albeit slightly nervous smile. "My Lady." He announced. "I am happy to see you." He declared.
Brienne stepped a few paces into the room, her face registering her surprise and her bewilderment. "What is this?" She asked, astonished.
Jaime squirmed a bit hesitantly, wondering if perhaps his plan for enjoying some time alone with Brienne had been ill advised. "I, I thought perhaps you might see fit to take the midday meal with me." He offered, hopefully.
Her mind reeling from the information Bronn had revealed, and having expected some time to lose herself in the thoughts that overwhelmed her, Brienne answered Jaime's suggestion with a wary stare. "Oh, I." She began. "I really do have a great deal of work to do." She tried to refuse, fearful that another moment with him may have her confessing her true feelings.
Jaime tried to hide the disappointment Brienne's attempted rejection had caused. Earnestly, he tried again. "Well." He stammered. "You need to eat, and everything is ready." He gestured toward the plates of delicacies he had the kitchens prepare especially for Brienne.
Brienne felt her resolve melt as she watched the hope shining in his eyes. "I suppose, I could eat a bite." She allowed graciously, and rewarded him with a bashful smile. Brienne reached to close the door before meeting Jaime at the table.
Jaime stepped aside and pulled one of the ornate heavy chairs from its usual resting place at the table. "My Lady." He bowed, offering the seat to Brienne. Her stride was a little unsure as she crossed the floor and sat gingerly upon the leather cushion. Unaccustomed to having things done for her, she felt awkward as Jaime slid the chair beneath her. He crossed to the opposite side of the table and sat anxiously.
Brienne surveyed the meal as she unfolded the linen napkin and laid it across her lap. As a light meal, the offerings were more like a feast. Brienne noticed that there were more than a few regional choices commonly enjoyed on Tarth. Obviously, Jaime wanted to ensure that all would be to her liking.
Unsure if her scrutiny was caused by disapproval, Jaime began the conversation apprehensively. "I hope everything it to your liking." He said breathlessly.
Brienne smile appreciatively. "Oh yes. Everything looks very nice." She answered sweetly.
Jaime nodded, and lifted the pitcher of wine toward Brienne's goblet. "Allow me." He bid. Jaime reached across the table and filled the cup which sat before his lady love.
Brienne eyed him uncertainly. She had never seen Jaime acting so strangely. "What are you doing?" She asked him, her eyes wide with confusion.
"I, I am filling your goblet, My Lady." He answered, self consciously. He cursed himself for showing his uneasiness so readily.
Brienne shook her head. "No. I mean what you doing with all this?" She questioned, spread her hands toward the food.
Jaime took a long sip of wine and set his goblet sharply upon the table. He gazed at Brienne seriously. "I am courting you." He asserted. "The way I always should have. The way a gentleman attempts to win the heart of the maiden he loves." His eyes were soft upon her when he finished.
Brienne sighed. She had never dreamed anyone would endeavor to gain her affections. Yet, something in his description made her blush. "I am no maiden, Jaime." She corrected. He, of all people, surely understood that page in her history.
He studied the rim of his cup before setting his eyes firmly upon her once again. "I am aware of that." He smiled at the memory. "However, since I am the one to whom you bestowed that precious gift," He began. "You shall alway be...my maiden." Jaime smiled proudly, as if her maidenhead had been the world's greatest treasure. Brienne could not find words, to answer his sentiment. Instead she lowered her eyes demurely to her lap, and blush once again. Jaime found her reaction more intoxicating than the wine.
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The noon hour was passed between Jaime and Brienne with lighthearted conversation. As they dined, their discussion flew by in relaxed comfort. If they had tried hard enough it would have been almost easy to imagine they had never parted, that they had arrived as a couple, a family, to Kings Landing and this was just one of many happy moments. It was good to be so casual and serene in each other's company once more. Losing themselves together was surprisingly easy, if only for a moment.
It seemed no time before the wine was empty, and another morsel could not be held. Both Brienne and Jaime lingered over the remnants of their meal, neither wanting to bring the time to an end. It was as if some spell would broken by the shuffling of a chair. They stared at each other, their jovial laughter reluctantly returning to uncomfortable silence. It was Brienne who drew their awareness back to the matters of the day.
"I should see to my work." She said, picking at a crust of bread left on her plate and deflating a little.
Jaime sighed disappointedly. "Of course." He acknowledged considerately. "I'll clean up our leavings." He smiled and hesitantly stood, beginning to gather their plates from the weirwood table and return them to the trays upon which they had been brought from the kitchens. Brienne jumped up quickly to assist him. "Let me help you." She offered gratefully and have Jaime a sweet grin.
As they busied themselves in silence, clearing away the signs of their time together, Jaime fingers brushed against Brienne's hand. Her first urge was to pull away in shock and embarrassment. However, she could not force her muscles to move. Breath barely left her lungs. She simply stood staring at their hands, still resting against each other. Jaime straightened, and drew closer to Brienne, his gaze warming the flesh on her cheeks. Under his admiration, she could not move.
After a long moment, at last Brienne brought her eyes to meet his. Jaime was caught in the same wonder as she. Brienne sighed helplessly as he moved closer. He pressed against her, his breath hot as he close. She did not fight the impulse between them, she had no wish to. Slowly, carefully Jaime wrapped his arms around Brienne and brought his needful lips to hers. She melted against the wall of his chest, surrendering to his soft passionate kiss. Possessively, she slid her hand up his arm and over his shoulder, drawing him to her. Jaime bent Brienne backward over the table and cradled her in his arms. He deepened his kiss upon her lips until she was powerless to do anything but meet his want with that of her own. There was no protest, no uncertainty, no fear. There were only two hearts filled with the love and desire neither could deny or keep at bay any longer. Their thirsty, yearning mouths searched deep within the other. The heady mixture of breath mingled in a sweet dance as tongues played together craving a feast more far appetizing than the one they had just enjoyed. There was no tension between them save for the longing both had suffered for so long. At last in each other's arms once more, it was like coming home.
As the force of Jaime's ardor intensified along Brienne's willing form, a sharp quick knocking resonated against the closed door of the Round Room. The noise was a startling reminder of the world around them, and shattered the passionate dream they had known for a moment. Unwillingly, they pulled their lips from each other, a heavy frustration settling into the space between them. Jaime rested his face against Brienne's cheek, closing his eyes at the bitter reality of the intrusion. She did not distance herself from him, but lowered her head into his embrace. He laid a reassuring kiss into her hair as she caught her breath. The two stared at each other, their eyes saying all there was no need to voice. They had never wanted the moment to end. However, now that their affections had been forced to cease, nothing was left to do but determine whomever was calling upon the Lord Commander.
"I should see who that is." Brienne whispered, low and hoarse.
Jaime nodded in response, and grudgingly loosened his hold upon her. Brienne took a moment to steady herself and then stepped away from him. The fingers to which he still held tightly were the last part of herself she took from his grasp. Jaime was left staring longingly in her direction as Brienne crossed the floor and turned the knob to open the door. On the other side Podrick Payne stood, oblivious to the romantic encounter that his arrival had just halted.
Brienne cleared her throat, and wiped her lips with the back of her fingers. "Ser Podrick." Brienne announced, flustered.
It was then Podrick caught sight of Jaime standing sheepishly near the table, his blush matching the Lord Commander's. Podrick reddened himself and he cast his eyes to the floor at the realization of what had been occurring within the walls of the Round Room prior to his arrival. "Please forgive the intrusion, Lord Commander." He begged. At first he was unsure what to say. Pod did not know if he should excuse himself so Ser Jaime and Ser Brienne could continue their romantic interlude, or if he should continue upon his course. Embarrassed, he chose the latter. "I was hoping to discuss plans for the security of the King." Podrick informed her.
From the corner of her eye, Brienne saw Jaime set the trays from their meal onto a sideboard, and straighten his garments. All of her wanted to ignore the responsibilities of her station and return to their kiss. There was little she could do, however. King Bran's safety was her responsibility. She could not deny Pod's request. Jaime knew that. He crossed the room, and stood reverently before Brienne. Taking her hand, Jaime bowed low and brought her trembling fingers to his lips. He places a soft kiss there and smiled hopefully at her.
"Until next time, My Lady." He bid Brienne, holding her in his grasp a moment longer than was necessary, his eyes burning into her. Then, with a raised eyebrow at Podrick who stood timidly pressed against the wall, Jaime stepped through the doorway and departed.