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Chapter Text

"My fighting days are done. I've still got a few killing days left in me, though." As he walked out the door he said, "I'll come find you when it's over. Meanwhile, don't die."

Bronn left the way he came, walked several paces down, then slowed, then waited. It was odd after all this time, that Tyrion had become the brother with his head up his ass about a mad Queen, while Ser Goldencock had finally gotten his own head on straight and left his mad Queen behind for good. Bronn wasn't sure Jaime had figured it all out though, so he waited.

He smiled grimly when Jaime emerged a minute later, looking a bit frantic, till he spotted Bronn and strode over. "Let's go up to the walls."

***

They looked out over the bleak landscape in the wind. For once Jaime did not even notice it.

"It wasn't just my brother and I you were sent to kill." It wasn't a question.

For possibly the first time in their acquaintance, Bronn did not jape or try to get a rise from him. "She's safe now though," he replied. "I may have to fake something happening to convince your sister, depending how long she lasts against that Dragon Queen. So don't worry if you hear that."

"But whoever wins down south--killing you may not satisfy the Dragon bitch's bloodlust either. And she knows about your Lady. She also hates that Red Wolf Queen, and how much she also loves your Lady."

He saw Jaime's jaw clench and put a hand on his shoulder. "You still don't get to decide who kills you. But I will be watching over the only woman worth a fucking thing in this, until all the rest are dead or not a threat."

Jaime turned and looked at Bronn for a long moment. "If I have to leave, I have to stop her from following me. If she tries anyway--will you stop her?"

"I will. You should write her a letter, though. Don't think she'll take my word for it later, if you're dead. But your handwriting is so bad she'll know its you. I can get it to her when it's over, when she's safe. But I will make sure she won't follow you."

"We haven't been careful," Jaime said.

"So I'd noticed," Bronn said grimly. "I'll watch for that too. It may be all that keeps her willing to go on, if worst comes to worst."

Jaime was so shocked he didn't say a word for a moment. "You'd do that for me?"

"I'd do it for her," he said. "Maybe a little for you, you sad shit. But if it happens at all, it will take her and me together to keep that child safe. That will be my primary point with the Lady," he smiled sadly.

Jaime swallowed hard. "She could do much worse. You'd already be a significant improvement over me."

"Glad you know it," he replied. He held out his hand. "The only family I ever had that mattered was my brother. It has been good to find another before this shit world falls apart."

Jaime took him by the forearm and shook. "Aye. It has been good for us to find another too." He stood and looked out again at the endless frozen fields. "I'll leave the letter in my room. Enjoy Highgarden. If you need to know whom to trust in the Westerlands, find my cousin Addam Marbrand. He'd fight for them too."

He left without waiting for a reply.

Chapter Text

Bronn went from the walls back down to the courtyard--they really had shit for guards now, after that battle--and made his way to the Godswood. He found whom he was looking for under the big tree in the middle, in his big chair. No one else was about.

He walked to the edge of the tree's canopy. In spite of the blast spots and soot--and blood--all around, there were a few inches of new snow covering all but the worst of it. The strange boy turned and looked up at him.

Bronn scanned around Bran's chair for a moment, then called out. "Hmm. The Raven Wolf in his chair, alone, but no wheel marks and no footprints, and it stopped snowing hours ago." He looked back at Bran. "Can you have Assassin Wolf just come out now so we can chat without me getting my throat cut?"

The corners of Bran's mouth moved up slightly, in what counted for him now as a smile. "Come down, Arya. Ser Bronn is a friend. In fact, an important ally. It's time you met."

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Arya swore as she dropped down silently next to Bronn. They both sized each other up. "Nice dagger," he noted. "That how you killed that fucker?"

"Which fucker? I've been busy."

"Either of em. Heard about Littlefinger too. Couldn't have happened soon enough. What a cunt. Did your mother really want to fuck him way back when?"

Immediately they both had dagger points at each other's throats. But it was almost without rancor. They were testing each other, and they both seemed to have given the other preliminary approval. After a moment they lowered their weapons, stepped back, resheathed. Bran had not moved or even appeared to be aware of the entire exchange.

"Anyways...apologies for speaking of your mother. I was really just trying to insult Littlefucker. I've met your kind before," he said cryptically. "Any job I've been on, if any of that lot shows up, I'm off. I'd buy the ale to hear more about it. Especially from a lady," he said, grinning.

She grinned back. "I heard you put a spear into Drogon. I'll buy the ale to hear about that."

He laughed but turned back to Bran. "I've listened to some of what you can do, heard stories. Your Raven Powers, or whatever you call them. This might seem a strange way to start a conversation, but it's something I need to plan for now."

"Are you able to tell if someone's really dead, or has just made it look that way? Faking deaths is going to be popular for awhile."

Arya snorted. "I like this one."

"It would be surprising if you didn't, Arya," Bran said. "No one in our family is so like you in skill, personality and outlook. And you're both totally uninterested in each other in any other way. He's much like Sandor, but less broken. He should be part of our pack. We need more protectors."

Arya was for once struck speechless for a moment, so Bronn pressed his point. "I appreciate the invitation. You didn't answer my question."

"Yes, I'm able to tell if anyone is alive or dead. But even someone who is dead may come back. Not as a wight. Come back like Jon was brought back. Very rare and unlikely in Ser Jaime's case, but not impossible."

"Interesting. Annoying though, too. So what is the Mountain, at this point? Alive, Dead, Something Else? And what is that Something Else?"

Arya looked at Bronn with something like awe. "That is a really good question. And this is the most interesting conversation I've had in months. Why have you been hiding? I've been tracking you since you got here--"

"I'm aware, which is why I've kept my distance."

"Yes, you just seemed to be watching the Kingslayer and the Imp and Brienne. I could give two shits about either of *them*, but if you try to harm Brienne, I'll kill you."

He grinned again. "I like this one too."

***

Sansa came toward them, but when she saw Bronn, she gasped and paused.

Bronn smiled slightly and sketched a bow. "Lady Sansa. It is good to see you again. Good to see you home. I don't know if you remember me."

"Of course I do. Lord Tyrion's sellsword. You stopped the Kingsguard who were beating me."

"That was Lord Tyrion--"

"Nonsense. He could call for it to stop, but he couldn't have stopped it himself. You were the sword and shield. I never got the chance to thank you. And I'm sorry--I never was told your name."

Bronn flushed at that. "It's Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. But I'm the one who should be saying I'm sorry."

"For goodness sake, why?"

"For what happened to you. I helped send off Lady Brienne and Pod. I had my hands full then keeping both the Lannister boys from getting killed by other Lannisters. But after the Half Man ran off...I should have known to go help Lady Brienne. I'd already seen what people saw fit to do to you then. When I heard the stories about the fucking Boltons...if I'd been tracking you, you wouldn't have needed to save yourself. That fucker needed killling. I wish I had thought it through, is all."

Sansa looked at him for a long moment. She wasn't one to let down that One True Love mask for anyone. But she didn't look unhappy or suspicious, or doubting of his sincerity. "Thank you for that, Ser Bronn. You should not feel responsible at all. You've already done me a service tonight, though. I tend to think of Brienne as having been sent to me directly by my mother. But she wasn't, and she wasn't sent by Tyrion, either. It isn't easy for me to see any Lannister but Tyrion as anything but a monster. But for better or worse," she smiled ruefully, "you just turned Ser Jaime back into a human being for me. Both of them choose good companions." She smiled and held out her hand. "I hope you being here now means you mean to protect people other than Cersei. Arya told me you were nearby but I wasn't concerned. If you'd wanted to kill someone here, you'd have already done it. Or Arya would have killed you trying," she smiled darkly.

He took her hand and bowed over it briefly, no flourish. "I am, Lady Sansa. Your brother and sister and I were just getting acquainted. Although...for the moment it is probably better if Ser Brienne doesn't know I'm here. She might kill the Kingslayer prematurely."

Both Sansa and Arya snorted at that. "Very well, Ser Bronn. Let's begin, shall we?"

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"So between Lady Assassin Wolf and Lord Raven Wolf here, are you two able to clear out any of the fucking little birds about?"

"Yes," Bran said. "Sometimes it is better to let them listen, though, if you control when and what they hear. My brother Robb caught Jaime Lannister and humiliated Tywin Lannister that way," Bran looked almost exultant, remembering. Maybe memories he had of things that happened when he was still just Brandon Stark, carried more emotion for him.

"Alright. First--Lady Sansa, I happened to see you walking away from your maester with what looked like moon tea. I'm assuming that wasn't for yourself."

Sansa flushed. "I may not agree with what they are doing, but she is my friend. I'm trying to work up the nerve to offer it to her. To spare her the consequences."

"But which consequences? You may not be aware, but those two have been lovestruck idiots since I met them, so years now. What are the odds Jaime Lannister is going to be alive this time next year? Even if he just continues to sit on his arse here?"

Sansa opened her mouth, then shut it.

"She shouldn't be thinking about moon tea. And it isn't the day after the battle anymore, it's not slaking bloodlust. They're both highborns, they both love each other. He should be marrying her. Then whatever happens--and whoever happens--she isn't being called the Kingslayer's Whore. Which is already happening, because people are jealous cunts."

"Cersei, you mean," she shot back.

"Of course Cersei. She's the Queen of Jealous Cunts. Although your Dragon Queen is looking to take that crown off her head too. But it's not just Cersei, it's half of Winter Town and even people here, people you're sheltering. I think if it had been just after the battle it would be overlooked. But it isn't anymore."

Sansa had the grace to look embarrassed. "You're right, Ser Bronn. I should have seen that myself."

He smiled but said gently, "You are a better lady than any Queen I've seen. And very strong. All you Starks are. But that doesn't change the fact not one of you has seen 20 name days yet. You can't see around every corner. I was thinking...maybe the Lady of Winterfell needs a Hand, herself. Your liege lords are loyal but they all have their own responsibilities. And once they come back here from--whatever the fuck happens in the South--they'll be going home. I bet your parents had many more people to manage the affairs of the North, and your household."

She looked at him again with dawning respect. "They did. And you're right. But you continue to shame me for making assumptions about you, Ser Bronn. I wouldn't have thought a sellsword would even care about those things."

He shrugged. "I hate waste. I hate doing anything in a way that seems careless. Probably why Tywin never bothered to have me killled, I seemed to be improving his sons' odds of not being stupid or dead. And Lannisters weren't my first...clients, let's say. I have had a lot of time standing around watching highborns managing things."

"Alright, Ser Bronn. If Bran thinks it's a good idea," the young man nodded, "and Arya has decided to let you live for the time being," her younger sister smirked but nodded. "If you are offering, I'd be happy to have you as my Hand." she smiled.

"I am, Lady Sansa. As long as we both know my one higher commitment is protecting Ser Brienne, whether she likes it or not."

Sansa smiled again. "That I had managed to notice, Ser Bronn."

***

"Speaking of standing around for hours listening to highborn nonsense...I had a suggestion about how to put someone else intruding on your hospitality to better use."

"How so, Lord Hand?"

"His fucking father and then that cunt sister have been telling him every day of his life how stupid he is, so he tends to underestimate himself. He also has trouble reading. But besides the Spider, there's only one person alive who has been present through most of the private negotiations and small councils of the last five monarchs. They just all assumed he was too arrogant, stupid and pretty to bother listening."

Sansa's eyebrows went to her hairline. "Gods," she whispered. "And when he wasn't Kingsguard he was still usually family, to the Hand if not the King."

"It didn't immediately occur to me, because he likes people thinking he's arrogant and emptyheaded, usually. He's hiding his actual capacity."

"Like any good swordsman," Arya interjected.

"Every once in a while, though, he slips up and does something that reveals he's thinking further ahead than even Tyrion. That battle trick you mentioned, Lord Raven? Ser Jaime used the same trick on Half Man and the Dragon Queen to take out the Tyrells. He learns."

"What is your suggestion, Hand of the Pack?" Bran asked.

Sansa stared at him, breaking into a smile. "Bran...did you just make a JAPE?" Arya and Bronn both laughed, but Sansa looked relieved. "Maybe you are coming back to us," she said softly.

Bronn cleared his throat. "I don't exactly know. I wouldn't bring him out at all, till the Dragon Queen and your brother and Tyrion are gone, honestly." He looked at her a little warily. "If I'm Hand of the Pack, I owe it to you to be honest. I think Tyrion and your brother are too tied to the Dragon Queen right now. You must see that she'd happily roast all of you here and Ser Jaime right now if she could get away with it, and yet they are both still acting like she's a helpless damsel."

There was a long, odd pause. "I think you are right, but for now, let's all think on this more. I will consider all we've discussed. I assume you're also staying hidden away for the time being?"

"I am," he said, brushing off his hands. "But I also think the time is right to remove Cersei's little birds. "Care to join me my lady?"

Amazingly, Arya just laughed and said "Sure. Two ales says you haven't spotted them all."

"Done." Arya jerked her head in another direction of the Godswood, indicating a safer route for them to take out of it, and they walked off together.

Sansa watched them, then turned to her brother. "I did not think this war could get any stranger, yet here we are."

"Indeed," Bran nodded and went back to contemplating the Weirwood.

Chapter Text

"You got yourself named Sansa Stark's HAND?" Jaime tried not to shout.

"Aye. Seemed like a good idea at the time. They could use the help. Have you really thought about it, that 5 or 6 teenagers just orchestrated saving Westeros?" Bronn seemed unperturbed, looking out from the walls again.

"Explain to me how this helps with--the thing you told me you're doing."

"I told you--I'm still the only one who gets to let you die, till I get Highgarden. Now you've also got a highly trained assassin more inclined to keep you alive than let you die."

"I want the Little Wolf protecting BRIENNE."

"She was already doing that, but being the Hand lets me coordinate her protection a little more effectively. And Lady Assassin Wolf and I just had a very satisfying evening plucking out all of your sister's eyes in the North."

Bronn turned around and said "You need to quit fucking worrying about what I'm doing and go ask her to fucking marry you."

"You know how independent she is," Jaime grumbled. "I *just* got her to be with me at all, I've got no reason to be pushing her for more."

"You do now," Bronn said cryptically. "Go have a chat with Lord Raven. I've got something else to do. And stay out of the Dragon Queen's sight if you can. I might be able to improve things."

***

"Brienne--there are very few paths left where you and Ser Jaime both live. There are many where you both die. Maybe you'd prefer that--but you would be taking the child with you," Bran explained in Sansa's solar.

"The future is uncertain. But the paths where your child's future is least endangered all include marrying Jaime, and this is your last chance to do that."

"Daenerys would never let Jaime's child inherit the Rock," Sansa said doubtfully.

"She wouldn't have a choice," Bran responded. "If there is a legitimate Lannister heir, Daenerys could not name anyone else Warden of the West without the Westerlands going into full rebellion. Not even Tyrion--they won't forgive him killing Tywin Lannister. And killing Jaime's heir would make Daenerys' position even more tenuous. Regardless--Ser Bronn has already done Daenerys such a great service, she will not mind rewarding him, if he was Lady Lannister's second husband."

"Wait, what?" Brienne goggled at Bran.

Arya laughed, genuinely laughed. "What "service", Bronn? Do even snotty dragon queens like a bad boy?"

Bronn spat into the fire. "She roasted 500 soldiers alive right in front of us, and I did my best to kill her AND that fucking dragon that day. There ain't enough gold for me to be willing to touch her. But I don't mind her killing off Cersei--too many fucking insane Her Graces right now--and I don't mind helping her do it. Plus, I like the girl, her friend. She's too nice for all this. Making a friend of that Cockless General who loves her also helps."

"Which friend? Missandei?" Sansa asked, startled.

He turned to her. "You know Cersei better than anyone. Haven't you figured out what she'll do first?"

Sansa was grim. "I actually feel stupid now for not having realized that myself. I had only considered the dragons. Her 'children'," Sansa's voice dripping with sarcasm and contempt. "But of course Cersei would target Daenerys' loved ones."

"Especially the one who can't fight back," Arya said darkly.

"Anyway I pointed this out to the Dragon Queen and made sure that Commander who loves her was there," continued Bronn. "I also reminded her that Cersei knows that a dragon can be speared, and if the whole of King's Landing and Euron's ships and the coast weren't covered in those fucking scorpions then they could cut off my left ball."

"How did Daenerys take that news?" asked Jaime. He was holding Brienne's hand in a happy sort of daze.

"She was grateful enough to ask/demand i be her Master of War. Jon Snow was less than thrilled about that," he laughed. "But I said i had responsibilities here and Cersei thinks I'm killing off Northerners--if I showed up on the Dragon Queen's ships it would endanger my...investments."

"I told her I hoped it showed no hard feelings on my part about shooting at her when she was trying to kill us all on the Gold Road. And that I would make Missandei one of the people I was responsible for up here, until Cersei and that pirate fucker and the Mountain were dead."

"It also changed Grey Worm's mind about Westerosi, if not Northerners," Bran said. "If you succeed in protecting her, when Daenerys no longer needs the Unsullied, you might be able to convince them to support you in the Reach or the Westerlands."

"Actually I was going to suggest the Twins," Bronn smirked.

They all looked at him at that, especially Brienne.

"It's gonna be an Army with no more wars, but no way to reproduce. The Twins is full of widows and orphans and no men. Whoever is on the Throne would have a stronghold there."

Brienne looked at him in astonishment. Jaime and Bronn both grinned back at her.

"So, my Lady, whether its with your favorite Lannister here or with me, I hope you feel like we're smart enough to keep the babe alive and well provided for. Possibly with its own eunuch Army." Bronn said with just a mild smirk. He was rather pleased with three days' worth of work.

"And Ser Brienne, if you don't trust my intentions, I can understand that. But I realized something when I got up here, waiting for the right time to have my chat with the brothers. I was waiting till you wouldn't know about it, because I didn't want to upset you."

He looked up at her and smiled. "As soon as a woman makes you want to be a better man, you know you're fucked."

He didn't wait for a response, but walked out pulling Arya along with him by the scruff of her collar. Arya squealed and punched him hard in the ribs and they disappeared down the hall.

Jaime cupped his love's face with his hands. "You and Bronn can make up your own minds if I don't survive this. But I can't bear knowing I haven't done all I can to keep you safe, if I'm not here. Please, Brienne. Let me at least give you and the babe my name."

Chapter Text

Ser Jaime sat straight up in bed, gasping.

Brienne stirred and put her hand on his arm. "Nightmare?" she murmured sleepily.

"No, actually." he took her hand and kissed it. "I might have just had a brilliant idea." He leapt out of her bed.

She protested "Jaime, it's the middle of the night!"

"Yes, and our wedding night, Lady Kingslayer," He had pulled on breaches and was struggling into his tunic. He leaned over and gave her a very passionate kiss. "But I need to send a raven. I'll be back shortly."

"Jaime! What are you DOING?"

"The usual, my love. Something stupid," and he closed the door behind him.

Since he was always in Brienne's room, he'd given his old room to Bronn. He knocked loudly and announced himself.

"The fuck's wrong?" Bronn asked, opening the door.

"Nothing. But I might have a solution to everything," as he walked in.

"I don't know why I hadn't realized this, but the Iron Bank accounts Cersei used to buy the Golden Company--that relationship isn't with the CROWN. It's with House Lannister. And Cersei isn't the head of our house, no matter what she crowns herself. Since I assume her trying to kill me twice is her acknowledging I'm not part of any Queensguard..."

"Seven Hells," Bronn said. "You're already head of House Lannister." he laughed. "I told Lady Sansa you were as clever as you are pretty, you tall blond toff. So you can call off the Golden Company?"

"Better. I can take it over. I need to send a raven to our representative at the Bank to confirm control. We might be able to have the Golden Company enact a mostly bloodless coup on Cersei, the Mountain, Qyburn and that shit Euron. If they march out with the Lannister troops before the Dragon Queen approaches, we could avoid any more bloodshed. I should see if Marbrand is in the city," he added.

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"I'm not asking you to betray the Queen. All I'm asking is, if she decides to repay what the North and Lord Lannister have done to help her by killing the Starks and the Lannisters both, including an unborn babe and his mother, maybe its time to see madness and put a stop to it, before she starts killing the ones *you* love."

Grey Worm looked down, but Bronn could see the pooled anger in the set of his shoulders. "After you talk to us--I hear Khalesi talking to the Hand. She still want to bring Missandei of Naath South." Grey Worm looked at Bronn then, his brown eyes turned black with quiet rage. "She tell the Hand Missandei can be--bait. A trap for the other Queen. She care more for this throne than Missandei, who would die for her."

Bronn did not offer an expression of sympathy that would not be welcome. He merely asked in a dry voice, "And what did the Half Man tell her?"

Gray Worm's eyes softened a bit. "He refuse. He was very angry. He told Khaleesi if she want a trap then HE would be bait, his sister hates him, would want him more. But only if Missandei stay North with you." Gray Worm almost smiled. "I never trust the Hand. He come to us with pretty words. But he is brother of family killed Khaleesi's family. How to trust this man?"

Gray Worm nodded. "Now I know. The Hand is Half Man, but a Good Man."

"You...I wait to see. Wait to see what Missandei of Naath say about you, when I come back to the North."

Bronn nodded and walked away after a moment, but before he reached the steps Gray Worm called out to him. "And--if a madness is stopped--what do the Unsullied do? She was not wrong before we came to Westeros."

Bronn came back over. "A number of things. But one thing you could ask--for Westeros to help you end slavery everywhere else. Maybe that's the last Great War."

Chapter Text

"How do we STOP her?"

Jaime, Arya and the Hound looked out of the balcony of the Queen's chambers. Cersei lay dead behind them. Jaime had led them through the tunnels and several hidden doorways, all the way to Cersei's bedroom, and he'd helped Sandor finally behead his undead brother, the Mountain. But he had left the room when Arya killed Cersei, as they'd planned.

He'd expected seeing her body to overwhelm him. It didn't--Cersei was entirely forgotten, because in spite of the bells ringing, signaling the city's surrender...Danaerys was continuing to burn King's Landing down, with dragon fire.

The three of them stared horrified, as the Dragon Queen swept in front of them, using the city's corner towers to reposition Drogon for another pass of devastation. The wildfire caches Cersei had left in place also began exploding in plumes of green clouds.

Suddenly Jaime said, "I have it. Sandor come with me. Arya, get out of here. You've done your part."

She shouted "You think you'll kill Danaerys better than I can? I'll use your sister's face as bait!"

"And she'll roast you alive without getting near you," Jaime said savagely. "We can't risk killing her until her last dragon is dead."

"And you can't lift a sword heavy enough to kill a fucking dragon," Sandor growled, and shook her.

"Little Wolf, I swore an oath to your mother, and I'll be damned if I'll let you kill yourself, while I'm still alive," Jaime shouted. "So I'll toss you off this balcony and trust you'll catch yourself before you hit the ground, if you don't get out of here now!"

Arya reluctantly assented--she had finished her list--and disappeared through the hidden door from whence they'd entered.

Jaime and Sandor didn't have to speak, both having the same idea. They ran up the stairwell that led to the roof of the tower, where Danaerys--if she maintained her pattern of rampage--would land shortly.

Crouching along the walls to stay out of her line of sight, they waited. "I'll take its eye while you stab straight up through its throat into its brain. Then I'll kill her," Jaime ordered.

"Aye," Sandor growled. "It's your specialty, killing mad Targaryens."

Soon Danaerys did land with Drogon, and Jaime quickly stepped forward and stabbed Drogon's right eye, just as the Hound rolled beneath the dragon's head from the left, came up under its throat, and stabbed his greatsword up through Drogon's brain as they'd planned.

Drogon did perish--but not before swinging his massive head sideways with a last thunderous death cry, that flung Jaime off the Tower, plunging him into the raging fires burning around the tower's foundation.

Sandor ran to the side and heard Jaime's last enraged roar as he disappeared into the flames. Then he turned and pulled out Widow's Wail from Drogon's eye. He leapt up next to the Dragon Queen, still sitting astride her dead dragon in shock, and stabbed her through the heart with Jaime's sword. "You deserve this kill, Kingslayer," he muttered, "and that's what the fucking songs will say, too. Justice, for the city, for your babe and for your Lady."

He left her there, with his sword in Drogon's skull and Widow's Wail still impaling the Dragon Queen's body, and went to find Jon Snow and the Unsullied Commander.