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Chapter Text

Water in a lake was surprisingly warm for this time of year, Brienne noticed as she let her legs down the wooden pier. Her bare feet disappeared under the dark blue surface. All of her could easily disappear. No one would know. The season hasn’t started yet and despite beautiful sunny weather, the area was empty, except for a couple walking along the surrounding trees. 

Brienne was glad of it. The seclusion of this place was the main reason why she decided to come here. She didn’t want to see anyone. She was tired of people as much as she was tired of loneliness. 

Always alone. A single tear made its way down her cheek and fell on her clothes. The memory of this afternoon was still vivid in her mind. The laugh and jests, and mockery. All directed at her because she was stupid enough to think that someone could like her and want her. 

How couldn’t she see it before? It was so obvious now. But Brienne, naïve and stupid as she was, ignored the words coming from people who wished her best and listened to the person she shouldn’t have. And this was what hurt the most. Not even a stupid bet. What could you expect from the bunch of boys? Her friend’s betrayal. That was what cut Brienne to her core. Her friend. Her only friend. Or she just thought so.

 “I knew I’d find you here.”

Brienne quickly wiped off traces of tears from her face before turning to the intruder.

“How?”

“I know you too well, Brie.” Gal removed his shoes and sat beside her on the edge of the pier. “Still that bad?”

The concern was clear in her brother’s voice but Brienne found herself unable to reply because of a thick lump blocking her throat. She nodded in response. Yes, it was still that bad.

“You shouldn’t care about those bastards. They’re not worth your—“

“I know,” Brienne exclaimed with force, effectively interrupting whatever cliché platitude Gal wanted to offer. “I know I shouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me hurt. I know I shouldn’t care. But I just… do.”

A new wave of tears streamed down Brienne’s cheeks. This time she wasn’t even trying to stop a sob that escaped her throat. She didn’t have the strength to pretend everything was fine for any longer. She didn’t even want to. Her brother’s arms came around her as he pulled her closer. 

“I’m so sorry that happened to you. I hate that I couldn’t do anything to stop it,” Gal was whispering into her hair as she cried into his chest. “But it will be over soon, you won’t need to see their wretched faces. You’ll have a new start at university. You’ll meet new people, you’ll have new friends…”

“You said the same before I went to high school. Nothing changed. Why this time would be any different?”

“Brie… Listen to me—”

“No.” Brienne gently freed herself from his arms. “No, Gal. You keep saying that it will get better but I know it won’t. I just need to learn how to accept that.”

“Accept what?”

“That nobody cares for me and I’ll always be alone.”

That was the bitter truth. Brienne removed tears with the back of her hand. She needed to occupy herself with something, she couldn’t bear to look at her brother now. She didn’t want to see pity written on his face.

“Hey, that’s not true, Brie.” She heard him saying. “You are not alone.”

“Gal, last time I checked, people who—”

“I didn’t mean those assholes. I’m talking about us. Me, mum, dad, Ari and Alys. You are not alone if you have us. Or do we not matter to you?”

“Of course, you do! It’s just…”

“It’s what?”

Brienne sighed. Why was it so difficult to explain? She loved her family dearly and they loved her, there was never any doubt about that. The thing was, that they were family. They haven’t chosen her for a daughter and sister, they had to accept her just the way she was. And Brienne was lucky she had such a supportive family, many people didn’t have even that. But Brienne yearned for someone who would choose her for… her. For someone who would like her. Not because they would be bound by family ties or any other obligation. 

It was her secret dream since childhood. Since those evenings when mum was sitting in her favourite armchair with four of them around her, listening to the stories she was telling and the books she was reading to them out loud. There were so many stories! About valiant knights and beautiful maidens or about magical creatures living in Westeros hundreds of years ago, about heroes and warlocks, about war and peace, and magic. About people and their loyal friends always ready to hold each other’s back. 

A long time ago Brienne used to think that she and her siblings were such an inseparable pack. But then, they grew up and went to different classes. All of them quickly found other friends and it wasn’t the same anymore. Yes, they still were close, they still talked, helped each other, shared secrets but all of them had their own worlds outside of the family. Everyone. Except for Brienne. 

“You don’t understand…” Brienne began in a strained voice, unable to finish. You don’t understand, she wanted to say, how it is to go to school and always sit alone during the lessons because no one wants to share a desk with you. You don’t know how it is to listen to people talking about parties you weren’t invited to. Or how is it to see your younger sisters preparing for dates or evenings out while you are sitting at home imagining that one day it could be you in their place. 

“You don’t understand,” Brienne repeated, trying to even her breathing. “You have Willas, Ari and Alys have their bunch of friends and I… I’ve never had anyone. Until there was her… We helped each other in school, we talked about everything, we hung out together. Everything was fine until…” She orchestrated the bet and the public humiliation for Brienne. It still hurt too much to say out loud. “And I don’t know what I did wrong. I can’t recall anything that could upset her somehow. I don’t know, Gal. I can’t comprehend that… Why… why did she do it?”

“Because she was jealous.”

“Of what?” Brienne snorted in response. Gal was her brother and obviously, that was making him biased. She wasn’t as pretty as her twin sisters nor as smart and easily likeable as her brother. 

“You can’t be serious now.” Gal shook his head in disbelief. “Of course there are plenty of reasons to be jealous of you. You are the kindest, the most gentle and compassionate person I ever knew. You do well in school, you are talented in sports. You became a doru-ondos champion in Stormlands. You got that university scholarship. It’s not just nothing, Brie.”

“But it’s not worth setting me up like this.”

“You definitely underestimate the pettiness of some people. Do you know that she also applied for the same scholarship and didn’t get it?”

“No… she never told me that. How do you know about this?”

“Alys happened to hang out with her sister.”

Brienne sighed. There was nothing more to say. They sat on the pier, surrounded by the sounds of birds and water.

“Gal?” Brienne said after a while. “You won’t tell anything about this to parents, right? I don’t want to upset mum.”

An apologetic expression appeared on her brother’s freckled face.

“Sorry, Brie. Now it will be kind of difficult to keep it a secret.”

“Oh, no… What did you do? Please, tell me you didn’t hunt down those guys.”

A guilty smile confirmed her suspicions.

“It wasn’t necessary. I can stand my ground.”

“I know you can. I saw you fight. But I’m still your big brother.”

“You can’t beat up everyone who hurt me.”

“Maybe but I won’t lie that it wasn’t even a bit satisfying.”

Involuntarily, Brienne smiled at that. 

“Here you go. Finally, I see the smile on your face.” He splashed some water on her. “Let’s have some fun. What would you say about swimming?”

“Mum would kill you. It’s too early for that. The water is—”

“Just perfect. So, what would you say?”

Brienne looked around. Except for the couple, who managed to walk quite far away, there was nobody seen in this area and despite the water being perfect indeed, she couldn’t find it in herself to do it.

“I think I'll pass.”

“Still not in the mood?”

“Not really.”

“Fine. You don’t know what you miss,” Gal said, removing his shirt and trousers and jumping into the water. 

“Wow, Brie! It’s perfect! Come here!”

Brienne only smiled at that, leaning back to lay on a pier. The sky above her was clear and blue. The rays of the sun gently fell on her face. 

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to be consumed by the surrounding nature. The sound of singing birds and the gentle splashes under Gal’s strong arms. It was peaceful here yet Brienne couldn’t feel it in her heart. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t she be more like her siblings? It would be easier for everyone. Mum and dad wouldn’t have to worry so much and try so hard to make Brienne feel accepted and valuable. Gal wouldn’t have to constantly defend her and get himself into trouble for that. And her sisters wouldn’t have to listen to the jests about being sisters with such a great lumbering beast. They would be a perfect family without me, Brienne thought with a pang in her heart. Maybe now they’d have the opportunity when she leaves for university. It would be soon. In a few months, she’d be in King’s Landing. This realization made Brienne equally relieved and anxious at the same time. But maybe Gal was right. It could be her chance for a new start. As well as for her family. Maybe they would be happier if she distanced herself from them. She could just go and never come back… She would think about this later.

For now, she just wanted to enjoy the warmth of the sun and the soothing silence of…

Suddenly her eyes snapped open and Brienne abruptly sat up. It was too quiet. Gal.

She looked around in panic. He was nowhere to be seen. His clothes were still on a pier just as he had left them. 

“Gal!” Brienne screamed. “Gal!”

No response came and only then Brienne saw something that turned her blood into ice. Bubbles of air coming right from the place where she last saw her brother.

Without thinking Brienne jumped into the water. Her clothes soaked immediately, making her movements slow and floppy. She didn’t care. She had to get to Gal and take him out. She couldn’t let him drown.  

After a few strokes, she finally reached the place and taking a deep breath, Brienne dived under the water. Defeating the buoyancy, Brienne went deeper under the surface. With every inch, her movements became slower like she was diving in tar. Her vision blurred and her lungs started to burn. 

Just when she thought she wouldn’t be able to dive any longer, she saw an unclear shape of a body. With all her will, Brienne pushed herself to go further. In mere seconds, she reached for the figure. It was Gal indeed. Without wasting more time, Brienne positioned herself behind him and started to pull him up. He was heavier than she expected and her body desperately screamed for air but Brienne wasn’t going to give up. 

Defeat does not exist in you, does it?

She used her last strength to push up from the bottom.

Working her legs, she slowly moved toward the surface. Everything hurt. Her muscles were dying and her lungs burning. Her heart slowed down and the black circles appeared in her eyes, blurring her vision even more. She just wanted to stop but she was so close. So close. A little further and she’d reach the surface. Just a little more effort. 

With the last stroke of her legs, she finally resurfaced, taking Gal with her. The first gulp of air was like a blessing from the Seven themselves. And the second even better.  

Trying to even her breathing, she desperately held Gal’s unconscious body. She needed to get him to the pier. There was some commotion there but Brienne could barely see it. With the greatest effort, she moved in this direction. 

When she was almost there, someone’s hands reached to grab Gal. The relief was immediate. Her exhausted muscles relaxed. It was just a fraction of a second and one careless breath when suddenly Brienne found herself unable to breathe. Water filled her lungs and she felt going down again. 

But this time she didn’t have the strength to fight it. It felt like something took hold of her and she was falling down. All she could see was the water, greenish when seen from below, and the rays of the sun piercing through it. Yet she couldn’t feel their warmth. Sun looks beautiful from here, she thought. It wasn’t the worst thing she could see before her demise. The sun, big and bright. 

Suddenly everything changed. The sun disappeared under the dark shield of the moon. The day became a night. Was it her last vision of this world? 

It’s over, was the last thought as the darkness consumed her whole being. 

There was nothing. No feeling, no consciousness, no existence. 

Brienne Tarth disappeared under the deep water of the lake.

Brienne Tarth was gone.

But then she opened her eyes to find herself in a strange-looking room, together with someone she has never seen before.

Chapter Text

The room was strange and an elder woman in a peculiar piece on her head was looking at her without any kindness. Those were two things Brienne noticed after opening her eyes.

“Impossible,” the woman hissed, the disbelieve on her face quickly turned into anger. “What were you thinking? Have you lost your mind?”

Brienne blinked and shook her head. Was she dreaming? Judging from the strangely looking surroundings, it had to be a dream. It just didn’t seem like one. The bed under her felt solid and real. The sheets were slightly rough in her clutched hands in contrast to the fine fabric of white nightgown someone had to put on her.

“Have you swallowed your tongue? Answer when you are asked a question.”

Brienne looked again at the woman. Cold grey eyes pierced through her like knives and thin lips were pushed together in clear distaste. 

“I’m sorry,” Brienne stumbled in a strange voice. Slightly deeper and a bit raspy, probably from disuse. “But who are you? And where am I?”

“Stop playing your stupid games. Who do you think—”

Suddenly the door burst open and an incredibly tall man strode into the room.

“Brienne!” he exclaimed, coming closer to her bed. “You’re alive... I was told that you were…”

“We all thought so, my lord. There was no heartbeat when she was brought here but the miracle happened and she has just woken up.” 

The man fell on the edge of her bed, trying to even his breathing.

“Father? Is this really you?”

“Of course it is me. Why would you ask that?”

Because you don’t look like yourself. Just like Brienne, he was wearing this strange outdated outfit. And he was a bit older, with more wrinkles around his eyes and more grey hair. He has grown a beard too. Brienne has never seen him having it, mum always preferred him clean-shaven. Father is prickly enough without it, she used to say. 

Something bad must have happened, the sudden thought ran cold through her veins.

“Oh gods, is Gal alright? Was I too late? Where is he? Tell me he’s okay…”

“Brienne, what are you talking about?” 

“Galladon, of course. Is he alright?”

Father abruptly inhaled as his face turned white as chalk. He didn’t have to say anything. The deep and immense grief in his eyes was the answer she was so afraid to hear.

“Lady Brienne, it is not appropriate and not sensitive to say such a thing to your poor father.”

“No,” Brienne whispered, ignoring the woman. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t happen. Not Gal, not her brother. She couldn’t fail him, she couldn’t fail their family. “No, tell me he lives. Please, tell me that Gal lives.”

Her voice choked with a sob as tears flowed down her cheeks. 

“Brienne,” father repeated her name, putting his hand on her shoulder and making her look at him. “I know it was hard to accept but Galladon died a long time ago. We mourned him and we grieved after him but it won’t bring him back.”

“What?” Brienne blinked, trying to clear her vision of tears still falling from her eyes. “Long time ago? How long?”

“Fourteen years ago.”

“Was I in a coma for this whole time?” She asked with a heavy heart. Galladon died, the thought was shattering her mind. Fourteen years ago. Why did it feel like it was today? They were talking at the pier. He comforted her. And then the accident. She was too late and Gal died. Brienne couldn’t even remember that. The last thing she remembered was the dark shield of the moon covering the sun and bringing cold and darkness into the world. Into her heart. Because Gal died. And she somehow survived and woke up in a place she didn’t recognize. “And where are we? Is it some strange hospital?” 

“What do you mean?” Father turned to the elder woman who was also staring at Brienne as if she grew a new head.

“I don’t know what is happening, my lord. She has behaved strangely since she regained consciousness. She doesn’t know who I am and she clearly doesn’t recognize her chamber.”

“This is definitely not my room unless you decided to move me out of our house.”

Father looked again at Brienne. The confusion was now replaced with a deep concern that was making the wrinkles on his forehead even more pronounced.

“This is your chamber, Brienne. It has been since you were born. Do you not recognize it?”

Brienne shook her head, not knowing what else to say. The concrete walls and historical interior of this place were unfamiliar to her, so unlike the modest but stylish inside of their house.

“And you don’t recognize septa Roelle?” Father pointed at the frowning woman. Brienne slightly shook her head, averting her eyes from the supposed septa whose name she’s just heard for the very first time in her life. 

“But you knew who I was.”

“Yes. Even though you look a bit different than I expected.”

“Septa Roelle, could you bring the maester here?”

“Of course, my lord,” the woman replied and throwing Brienne one last look full of distaste and displeasure, she left the room.

Once the door behind her closed, Brienne spoke to her father again.

“What is the meaning of all this? Tell me what is going on.”

“I would like to hear that from you. Today in the morning you were completely normal and then suddenly I am reported that you were seen jumping from the cliff. You were lucky that ser Goodwin was around and managed to pull you out of the water. What were you thinking, Brienne?”

What? 

“It’s not what happened! I wasn’t-”

“You were seen there, Brienne! Jumping off the cliff. How many times have I asked you to not risk yourself? After what happened to Galladon you still haven’t learned how dangerous and unpredictable the sea can be? I cannot allow myself to lose you.”

Brienne listened to it with growing uneasiness. This was utter nonsense. Where was she? Has she died? Was it some sort of hell? But everything felt so real, the experiences, the senses, the touches. There was no floppiness characteristic for her dreams.

But if it was real, something was very, very wrong. It wasn’t the world she knew. The father wasn’t the one she recognized. 

“I’m sorry,” she said carefully. “I’m afraid I do not quite feel like myself.”

“I can see that. Do you remember anything?”

Brienne did actually remember everything until the accident at the lake which this father claimed to happen fourteen years ago. She shook her head, deciding it would be a safer choice than to force her version of events right now.

“Where are we?” Brienne asked instead.

“I already told you. It is your chamber.”

“Yes, but I meant a more general location.”

“We are in Evenfall Hall.”

“The museum? How did you arran—”

Brienne didn’t finish because of the incredulous expression of father’s face. “I mean, yes, of course, it is. But we don’t live here, right?”

“Brienne, I am the Evenstar and you are my daughter and heir. Where else are we supposed to live?”

Father has gone crazy. Or it was her. Judging by the surroundings it must have been her.

The further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of an elder man wearing a strange brown robe with a thick chain composed of rings of different colours, which clanked with his every step. Fortunately, the woman didn’t return with him.

“My lord, septa Roelle has informed me that Lady Brienne woke up.”

He threw her an assessing look.

“Yes, thanks to the Seven. But it seems that the accident might have had some…” Father was clearly struggling with choosing the right words. “…strange effects.”

“What do you mean by this, my lord? From what I can see the lady seems to be quite well.”

Because I am, Brienne thought. Physically she was good. Her body might have felt slightly different than usual, but Brienne was convinced it was just the effect of her prolonged diving. What troubled her most was the question of where she was and how she ended up in this place.

“She is not quite herself.” Brienne heard her father saying.

“The lady almost died. It is not unusual to be in a state of shock after such an extreme experience.”

“Could it involve memory loss?”

“I have never seen it myself. All people who stayed under the water for such a long time were always dead. However, if she survived, then yes, it might have happened.”

“But it is not a permanent effect?”

“I can’t tell anything before I check my patient. If you allow, my lord, I would appreciate it if you left the chamber.”

“Of course,” father said, leaving Brienne alone with the man.

Without a hurry, the old man stepped toward her bed. 

“My lady,” he said calmly, sitting on a chair that someone brought to her bed. “Let’s start from the basic questions. Do you know who you are? What is your name?”

“Of course, I know. I’m Brienne Tarth.”

“Excellent, my lady. But could you tell me where we are?”

Brienne hesitated. Father said they were at Evenfall Hall and she could just go on with that even if she didn’t necessarily recognize the place or even believed it was true. 

“I can’t. I don’t know this place,” Brienne said, deciding against the lie. 

“I see,” the man nodded, his long white beard grazing the rough material of his brown robe. “But you recognize your father, is it right, my lady?”

“Yes,” Brienne simply answered, refusing to elaborate the differences between her dad and the man who could pass as his identical twin.

“Do you know who I am?” came the next question.

Brienne looked again at the man's face. It was old and covered with wrinkles and stains so characteristic for older people. Everything about him seemed to be old and fragile except for eyes, which were bright and astute, making Brienne feel that he could see right through her.

“I’m sorry but I don’t. I guess you must be some sort of a doctor.”

“I am not sure what you mean, my lady, but I am maester Volden of the Citadel. I have been serving at Evenfall Hall for nearly twenty years.”

Brienne found herself nodding at this information, not sure how she should respond. 

“Do you remember what you did today and yesterday and the day before that?”

She did. But this father didn’t react well when she tried to tell him. Brienne shook her head.

“Interesting,” maester Volden murmured to himself. “Now, I would like to examine you, my lady.”

Brienne nodded and the maester stood from his chair. Before Brienne could blink, he started his assessment, checking her pulse, her eyes, asking her to inhale and exhale on his command and other things that doctors tend to do. Particular attention he paid to her head, touching and watching it closely from every possible angle.

“Do you remember any kind of head injury you could receive? It didn’t necessarily have to happen during or after your fall from the cliff.”

“I didn’t fa…” I didn’t fall from the cliff, I was rescuing Gal, Brienne wanted to say but stopped herself before the words left her mouth. “I didn’t have any head injuries.”

That wasn’t strictly the truth. During the years of fighting training, Brienne got punched multiple times, including her face but she was more than sure that she was fine.

The maester nodded, however the expression on his face indicated that he didn’t quite believe her words.

“Are you sure, my lady? Nothing during your sword training?”

“No.” I have never held a sword in my life.

“As you say, my lady. Physically everything seems to be alright, I can’t see anything out of order. Except for your memory. There is nothing I can do for you now but you need a lot of rest and as few stresses as possible. Let’s just hope your memories return to you soon,” he said, moving to the door. 

“Ehm… maester Volden…”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Brienne took a deep breath. It was her chance to get some clues about what was going on. If she asked the right questions…

“Where is Galladon?” Brienne started with the most important one. Despite what her father said, she couldn’t accept that. Maybe father got something wrong, maybe he was mistaken and Gal lived. Maybe… Brienne looked expectantly at the maester but the serious expression on his face killed the last tiny shreds of hope she possessed.

“He died when you were a child, my lady.”

No, Brienne wanted to scream. No, Gal was alive. They grew up together, they played together, they shared secrets, they comforted each other. She didn’t know the world without her older brother. She didn’t want to accept any world where Gal was not there.

“Where is mum, Ari and Alys?”

“They died years ago.”

Brienne blinked trying to prevent new tears threatening to fall. What kind of world was it where almost all her family was dead? It was worse than any hell she could end up after dying. But Brienne was sure she lived. The intuition, the strange unfathomable feeling inside her was telling her that she was still alive. Her heart was steadily beating under her ribs and her body greedily demanded breath after breath.

“Where am I, maester?” Brienne asked in a shaking voice. 

“We are on Tarth. Your homeland.”

Brienne nodded. “What year do we have?”

“It is 299 After Conquest, my lady.”

Brienne froze. No, it was impossible. She couldn’t move back over a thousand years ago. If she was told she spent decades in a coma and awakened after some sort of nuclear apocalypse, Brienne would believe that easier than the fact that she somehow travelled back in time.

“Lady Brienne, are you well? You became pale all of a sudden.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, trying to appear unaffected by the unexpected information. “Could you tell everyone that I would like to be left alone? I think I need some rest.”

“Yes, of course, my lady,” maester Volden replied, bowing slightly. 

Only when the door closed after him and Brienne was finally let alone, she let the grief and distress take over her.

Chapter Text

It was late evening when Brienne finally made herself leave the bed. She stepped to the window. The view of an endless sea reflecting the last rays of the dying sun would be breathtaking if she was able to see anything through the thick lenses of her grief.

Maybe the maester didn’t lie, she wondered but every rational cell in her body was screaming that it was impossible to travel back in time. Impossible. 

Not bothering to look for matches and light the candles on the table, Brienne returned to bed. Darkness suited her after all. Maybe it would swallow this dreadful world with dad she didn’t recognize. Without mum, Gal, Ari and Alys. 

The thought of her family evoked a new flow of tears. It was merely half a day here but she missed them so terribly. 

I have to go back. The resolution was a steel anchor in her heart. There was no way to accept staying in this horrible empty world. If there was a way out, Brienne would find it. She would.

The sound of footsteps woke her up the next morning. Brienne laid still, not daring to open her eyes. The gnawing feeling twisted her guts as she silently prayed to anyone willing to listen that the previous day was just a nightmare and now, she was safe at home in her own bed. Preparing for the worst, she took a deep breath and sat up.

“I am sorry that I’ve woken you, my lady.”

Brienne turned to a young girl with an unfamiliar face, wearing a grey dull dress. 

“It’s okay.” She mumbled, even though that it wasn’t. She was still in that strange room.

“I’m sorry, my lady?” The confusion shadowed the girl’s face. “I’m not quite sure if I understand your meaning.”

“It is nothing. I only meant I am alright,” Brienne hurried with an explanation. Clearly okay wasn’t a word back in 299. 

“I am very pleased to hear that, my lady. Everyone was worried about you. They said you fell from a cliff. I must have been terrible. You are so lucky you weren’t crushed. Last year, Bobby’s brother was jumping from there into the water with other boys, Seven help them. But he didn’t have your luck. The sea returned his body after several days of floating. The family was devastated and Penny even…”

The words were flowing like a river as the girl collected clothes carelessly piled up on a chair. Brienne listened, not sure what to make of this. She had no idea who Bobby or Penny were, nor was she particularly interested to find out. There were more important things she needed to figure out.

“Ekhem…” The girl stopped talking the moment Brienne opened her mouth.

“Yes, my lady?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt you… ehm… e… I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

“Don’t worry, my lady. I’m Ellie. They said you don’t really remember anything but I didn’t think it was true.”

“I didn’t either.”

“The accident… It must have been horrifying for you.”

“Yes, it was.” 

And it still is. 

“I brought breakfast for you, my lady.” Ellie pointed to the table. “And when you are ready, let me assist you with your dress.”

Brienne looked down at the long white linen nightgown she didn’t remember to put on. 

“True, I need to change,” she said, not quite sure why she would need anyone to dress her. “Em… Ellie, hm… would you mind if I stayed here alone for some time?”

“Of course, not, my lady,” the girl cheerfully agreed. “Let me know if you need something.”

When Brienne was finally left alone, she tentatively walked to the huge screen dividing the room almost into two separate spaces. The first thing Brienne noticed behind it was a bath, so huge that even someone of her size could easily fit in there. Brienne could only imagine how much effort and how many buckets of water were needed to fill it. 

Near to the bathtub, in the corner, there was a huge wardrobe and not so small mirror. 

Brienne slowly stepped toward it. The tall figure dressed in white walked towards her. It took her a moment to comprehend that she was looking at herself. Or she thought so. When the realisation finally dawned on her, Brienne barely suppressed a gasp.

The reflection was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Brienne undoubtedly recognized her own eyes and full lips. The nose was also hers, broken at least twice, but it wasn’t healed so nicely as she thought it was. And it was covered in freckles. Her whole broad face was. Not the occasional few dots she got after too long exposure to the sun. And her hands, definitely hers, but rougher and more calloused, were also in freckles. 

Brienne raised her palm to her hair. The reflection did the same. Thin blonde strands were loosely falling down instead of a cute bob Ari spent the whole afternoon creating and then teaching Brienne how to handle that. 

It’s not me. It is not my body. With a rising horror, Brienne observed the reflection repeating all her movements with disturbing precision. Step ahead, step back, hand wave, a frown, a grimace. Even blinking was completely synchronised.

Brienne averted her eyes from the unsettling image. I need to change, she thought looking down at the thin white nightgown. She opened the wardrobe, exclusively filled with dresses but not the regular she loved to wear. These were long heavy gowns with rigid corsets. She tentatively took out the one in a nice light blue colour and slowly put it on over her head. The heavy fabric of a skirt fell down covering her legs while the bodice remained open on her back. No wonder assistance is required to put it on, Brienne gasped as she caught the reflection of her unsuccessfully trying to reach the laces behind. Ari and Alys would roll from laughter if they saw her wearing that. The unfortunate garment somehow managed to highlight everything Brienne didn’t like about her body and hide everything that she slowly learned to accept. I can’t walk around wearing this. I need something better on my way home, she thought, removing the gown in one decisive move.

It took her more than half an hour to go through the wardrobe again and finally find a pair of brown breeches and a linen shirt, hidden meticulously on the lowest shelf under the pile of linens. Without hesitation, Brienne put them on and stood again in front of the mirror. Now she felt much, much better. Almost like myself, she smiled just to reveal a row of big horsey crooked teeth. Apparently, there were no braces in 299.

Brienne quickly left the area behind the screen, firmly deciding that her appearance in this world didn’t matter since she would be leaving it soon and going back home. She only needed to find out how. 

After eating the food that Ellie left on a table, Brienne left the room, the plan of her next actions slowly forming in her head.

The first steps along the corridor dispelled any doubts concerning her current location. It was the Evenfall Hall, indeed, with white marble walls and the moons and suns carved in it around every window. Brienne visited this place many times. It became almost a family tradition to visit the Evenfall museum once a year. They all loved it. Nothing made dad prouder than sharing the history of their ancestral island and reminding them that they descended from a line of great heroes. Mum usually rolled her eyes during more pompous parts of his prepared lessons but she always smiled and kissed him afterwards when she thought the four of their children weren’t looking. 

And usually, they weren’t. Gal and Alys were enamoured with all the displayed armour and exhibition of swords, Ari couldn’t tear her eyes away from clothes and jewellery, while Brienne was rereading the collection of the oldest known love letters found on Tarth and pretending the beautiful words were for her.

Now she was strolling through the familiar corridors, trying her best not to dwell on the flooding memories. She had a task to accomplish, it was no time to be distracted. Not with her thoughts and definitely not by the strange looks she received from people she was passing.

At least one thing hasn’t changed. People’s scornful eyes always followed her. It was hard to not pay attention and even harder to learn how to return such looks. Never show you are intimidated, never show your weakness, her Coach repeated again and again until Brienne learned to keep her head straight and high.

After getting lost several times, she reached the vestibule and finally stepped outside. The courtyard was full of people dressed in historical outfits, running with their everyday business. Nobody paid any attention to her except for several nods of acknowledgement. 

Brienne was about to cross the yard when suddenly an icy grip on her wrist pulled her back toward the castle.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Brienne recognized the angry hiss of a voice before her eyes fell on the wrinkled face of the woman she met yesterday.

“Let go of me,” Brienne pulled her hand back, freeing it from unpleasant touch.

“Enough of those stupid games of yours. You won’t trick me into believing you don’t remember anything. You know your poor father has already made some unthinkable mistakes regarding your education but I won’t condone any more of it. Just look at you! It is not how a lady should behave.”

Brienne looked stunned at the woman. Who was she and why did she hate her so much? Have I wronged her somehow? 

“I’m sorry. I don’t quite remember who you are but I would really appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me this way. It is rude of you and I can’t address any problem you have with me because I simply don’t remember it. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some matters to settle.”

Without waiting for any response, she left a speechless woman behind. 

Brienne found a gate where she expected it to be and fortunately, the two guards didn’t pay her much attention except for not so discrete snickers as she passed them and went outside. The view she saw almost made her stop in her tracks. It was green everywhere. No parking lot, no streets, no cars. Just trees and hills covered with grass. Brienne took a deep breath; her lungs relished the gulp of fresh air filled with a scent of nature with a brisk aroma of the nearby sea. Is this how Tarth used to look like? She wondered, forcing her legs to move forward. The stone road under her boots quickly changed into a narrow path as Brienne walked in the direction of cliffs. At least she hoped so. As far as she knew from all the vacations their family spent on Tarth, there was only one place near Evenfall Hall, which suited the description she gathered from heard conversations. 

After half an hour of energised walking, Brienne reached her destination. She was standing on solid rock, towering over the deep blue waters of the Narrow Sea. Brienne carefully walked to the edge and looked down. The view took her breath away. Waves were crashing at the base of the cliff, roaring in pain from the contact and hissing as a white dense foam was returning defeated back to the sea. If anyone was unlucky to find themselves there, the chances of survival were almost non-existent. Unless you took a long run-up and jumped far enough to avoid a turbulent area of the sea. 

Was it what Lady Brienne did? Brienne wondered, sitting on the edge. They said she fell from the cliff. Did someone push her? Or did she jump on her own? There were so many questions she wanted to know answers to before she took any action. 

Brienne recollected everything that happened to her the previous day as well as everything she had heard about the Lady Brienne in whose body she accidentally appeared. As much as Brienne understood, she ended up under the water after she pushed Gal to the pier. She was slowly going down. All she saw from down below was the sun, yellow and bright. Then suddenly it got covered by the shield of the moon, bringing complete darkness to the world. And then she woke up here.

And this Lady Brienne also was under the water, though no one mentioned any eclipse happening that day. They thought she was dead and then I ended up in her body. Maybe we both switched the places while drowning? This sounded absurd. Her rational part refused to accept even the possibility of such a thing happening. Yet, she was here. In someone else’s body. Very much alive, judging from the steady beat of someone else’s heart that felt so much as her own.

More and more questions rushed through her head.

What if Brienne died in her world and this was her reincarnation? What if it was her afterlife? Was there a way back? Did it require her to die again? But if she was dead in her world, where would she return? To her dead body? And if another Brienne was somehow there, would they switch their places again?

There were too many unknowns in this situation but there was no other way than to try. Merely one day in this world was enough to convince her that she didn’t want to stay here any longer. There was no choice but to try.

Brienne stood and taking a deep breath, she looked down again. While it didn’t seem to be a great height from a distance, now it was like standing on top of the highest skyscraper in King’s Landing. Brienne felt her heart speed up and her hands get sweaty. 

I have to do this. I have to return home, she kept repeating, trying to build up her crumbling courage. Just one jump and I’ll be home.

Brienne stepped back a few steps from the edge. She needed as much speed as possible to avoid the turbulent area. 

Taking a deep breath, she ran.

On the edge of the cliff, Brienne jumped.

The moment her feet pushed off the solid surface, the impossible feeling of lightness overtook her senses. She was flying.

And then she started falling.

The air was whizzing in her ears and the roar of the restless sea was getting closer. Brienne knew the fall would last mere seconds but being in the air it felt like an eternity.  

She was falling. The bright images of her family came unexpectedly to her mind.

She was falling. Her humiliation played in front of her eyes. 

She was falling and then she hit the hard surface of the water.

Even being prepared for this, it felt like all her bones were crushed in shreds, making it hard to move. Fighting the natural instincts to resurface, Brienne made herself dive down. Her muscles burned with the effort as she was going deeper and deeper. The wall of water above her was weighing down on her body, making her feel like her head might just explode from the pressure. 

But Brienne was going deeper. Her lungs screamed in a protest demanding more air. But she needed to stay here a bit longer. A bit longer and she’ll return home. Just a few more seconds. She could make it. She could make it.

But nothing was happening. Brienne was slowly losing her consciousness. The blackness was overtaking her vision. Her body was getting numb. 

Just one more second and…

Nothing was happening. 

Just one more second….

Nothing was happening.

Nothing…

The panic settled over her fading consciousness. Air. Every cell in her body screamed for air. 

Brienne felt as her arms and legs, numb from cold and burning from the lack of oxygen, started to move, taking her toward the surface.

No, she needed to wait a bit more and she’ll return home…

But her body didn’t listen. Her body desperately wanted to live. 

She wanted to live, not to die under the water.

Finding her last shreds of strength and willpower, Brienne pushed herself to swim up.

Her last conscious thought telling her she was too late.

Chapter Text

Brienne was sick of her bed. Wide and comfortable it might be but almost two weeks spent under thick quilts fighting high fever brought nothing more than a dull ache all over her body.

After miraculous resurfacing from the sea and taking a deep breath, she somehow managed to swim to the nearest beach. Never in her life was Brienne more grateful that back in the day her dad strongly insisted on getting her into the swimming club and never before was she more relieved to feel solid land under her feet and coarse sand under her fingers.

For the next few hours, she lay on a beach, the waves gently caressing her exhausted body. Too soon it became colder but Brienne didn’t have the strength to move. It was almost dark when she finally found the will to get up and return to the castle.

At the sight of her wet hair and clothes covered in sand and mud, the castle staff couldn’t prevent a gasp of shock, the horrible septa smirked and Lord Selwyn got angry, disappointed and terrified at the same time. He immediately gave an order to bathe her and take care of her, as well as to call the maester.

Yet, despite all the effort, the next morning Brienne woke up coughing and with a high fever. Nothing serious. Few pills, mum fussing about the constant supply of raspberry tea with honey and dad bringing additional blankets to keep her warm always made her feel better within a couple of days.

But not in this world. Here, Brienne ended up with cold compresses on her forehead and wrists and with blood slowly dripping from her forearm. She also got to drink some horrible tasting potions, which almost made her throw up the tiny amount of food she was forced to eat.

What kind of world was that where even a cold could get you killed? She thought in her rare moments of consciousness at the same time wishing that sickness would do the thing she failed to do in the sea.

But again, her body turned out to be strong enough to slowly recover and now Brienne couldn’t stand a minute longer in bed as well as in the room with a lingering acrid smell of sickness, herbs and acetic acid. However, getting out of it wasn’t as easy as she expected. Lord Selwyn, still furious with her recklessness, didn’t even want to hear about letting her out of the chamber. No arguments worked until the maester stepped in, claiming that short walks in the garden would be definitely more beneficial for her recovery than another day of idle laying. Only then Lord Selwyn gave permission.

The next day, dressed in the simplest gown found in a wardrobe and tightly wrapped in a wool shawl on maester’s insistence, Brienne was strolling among the trees and flowers in Evenfall’s gardens, so much wilder than the neatly kept and symmetrical flower beds she knew from her time.

From her time. It still sounded so weird in her thoughts. Staring at the tiny bush of white roses, hidden in the most distant and isolated place, Brienne was trying to comprehend what exactly happened to her and why she was still there. Because clearly her plan to return home epically failed, only bringing her to the brink of death. But wasn’t it what I aimed for? To die and to return home? 

Only she didn’t. Brienne simply wanted to live. But how was she supposed to do so in this world? Without her family? Without mum and dad? Without Gal, Ari and Alys? What was her life worth if they weren’t here? 

Brienne traced her fingers on the tender blossom of white rose. What other choice do I have now? 

“I didn’t know you fancy roses, my lady.”

Brienne turned her head to an older knight with a pronounced eagle nose and completely grey beard in comparison to his still thick brown hair.

“They are beautiful. It’s very saddening to see them wasting in this forgotten corner, Ser.”

“I thought you were the one who asked for the roses to be completely removed from the garden. This one must have survived the gardener’s diligent efforts.” The knight furrowed his brows and Brienne tried to summon an apologetic smile to her face. She had no idea she was supposed to hate roses. How could she if they were so extraordinarily beautiful here? “So it’s true then. The rumours that you lost your memories after the accident.”

“Yes,” Brienne nodded. She decided to stick to this version of lost memories rather than telling the truth of her being a completely different person. Who would believe her anyway? Sometimes it was hard to believe it herself. If she told anyone, they would probably deem her absolutely crazy and then she’d end up locked in a place far worse than her current chamber. “They are true. I do not remember much from before the accident, not at all to be honest... Ser…”

Brienne paused. Now was the embarrassing time to admit she didn’t know the names of people she was supposed to know.

“Goodwin,” the knight finished, his face suddenly turning pale. “It was me who pulled you out of the water. I’m sorry, my lady, if I could have been faster, you’d probably…”

The guilt in his brown eyes made her even more uncomfortable.

“It’s okay, Ser. I don’t want you to blame yourself for anything. I certainly don’t, I am grateful for your help. Although I must ask you… Have you seen how… how it happened?”

“I’m sorry, my lady, but no. I saw you already in the water, I don’t know how you ended up there. I assumed you jumped from the cliff as kids usually do…” Ser Goodwin said, not quite meeting her eyes and then quickly added: “I wish you quick recovery, my lady. I hope to see you soon in the training yard if your father allows it. I must say it is a great misfortune you haven’t been able to train with us recently.”

“I… I train?”

“Of course. And you are doing exceedingly well.” A small smile appeared on Ser Goodwin’s face for the very first time since the beginning of their conversation.

“With a sword?”

“And morningstars and bows as well,” Ser Goodwin added, still smiling. Brienne forced a little smile on her own face.

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t quite remember how to handle a weapon.”

“Don’t worry, my lady. You will remember everything the moment you take a sword in your hand. You can’t forget something you have in your blood.”

Brienne highly doubted she had anything other than blood cells and plasma in her veins but she nodded and quickly made her leave. On the way to her room, she couldn’t help but think about how to get around another obstacle. If swordfight was anything like cycling or skating, and according to Ser Goodwin it was, then Brienne was screwed. She has never even held a sword in her hand. Her sword experience was limited to that one time when Gal and Alys convinced her to join one of their games where they ran around in some fantasy world, did quests and killed enemies. That day she discovered how much she sucked with weapons, no matter if it was a sword, a lance or a bow. After an hour of constant reloading of the last save and endless laugh coming from her siblings, Brienne gave up. There wasn’t much fun in losing all the time. But it was just a game. With saves and reloads. And there was no way to get such benefits in the real world and she doubted she'd be any better with a real sword than she was with a virtual one.

The next few weeks passed uneventfully. Brienne was still recovering from the cold and double-drowning. Luckily, Lord Selwyn, after the first waves of anger at her irresponsible and reckless behaviour, despite nagging reminders from septa Roelle, didn’t push Brienne to return immediately to her usual duties, which she found out included not only her presence at some official meetings conducted by her father but also the management of some minor issues in the castle, training with the maester of arms and lessons with septa Roelle. 

Brienne involuntarily flinched at the thought of the old woman. Just recently she discovered that septa was there for many many years and she was responsible for the education of the Lord's daughter. This revelation hit her with a wave of resentment at this version of her father. How could he employ such a woman to guard his daughter? Brienne has been there for less than two months but she never heard a kind word from septa. Not once. Just berating and disapproval which made her feel sorry for real Lady Brienne. If septa treated her the same way she treated Brienne now, how could she endure this for almost all her life? Why didn’t she tell her father anything? Or maybe she did but he didn’t listen to her or didn’t believe her. Would he believe me? Brienne wondered, waiting for the appropriate moment to bring up this topic.

Meanwhile, she was getting more familiar with her new surroundings. Brienne explored all the corridors and chambers of Evenfall Hall, especially those which were normally excluded from the exhibition in her time. She subtly asked Ellie about people living in the castle. The young maid turned out to be the superior source of the most recent and not so recent gossip. She talked about the affairs and quarrels among the castle staff, new ladies fighting for the lord’s attention, complained about poor harvests on her family farm and frequent visits of other Stormlands lords and the additional work it required to accommodate them.

“Everything always needs to be perfect to make the impression of an impeccable household. Fanny overheard once that Lord Selwyn still hopes to secure a match for you, my lady.”

“But certainly I’m too young for marriage!” Brienne exclaimed in shock.

Ellie nervously giggled.

“I’m sorry, my lady. I constantly forget that you can’t remember anything,” she said, embarrassed by her reaction. “You turned eighteen a few months ago and Lord Evenstar believes it is past time you were wed. You’ve already been betrothed, don’t you remember that, my lady?”

Of course, Brienne didn’t remember. She has never had a boyfriend, not to mention a fiancée. 

“Thrice, if I’m not mistaken,” Ellie continued, not noticing the utter shock on Brienne’s face. Thrice betrothed at the age of eighteen? 

“But I’m not married, is that right? Otherwise, Lord Selwyn wouldn’t want to find another match for me.” Brienne caught herself thinking out loud. “What happened then? With my previous betrothals, I mean.”

“I’m not sure, if I should, my lady…”

“You can call me just Brienne. And I would like to know. Maybe it will help to restore my memories.”

She smiled in encouragement and it turned out to be just enough for the maid. Soon, to Brienne’s utter horror, Ellie shared with her the story of a boy who died before she even met him, another one who humiliated her with a thrown rose (the roses!) and the old man who promised to chastise her for unladylike behaviour. When Ellie recounted how Lady Brienne beat him in single combat, Brienne couldn’t feel prouder of her. And relieved as well.

After this revealing conversation, it suddenly started to make sense. The mocking looks she received from some ladies present in the castle, the utter disapproval from her septa, the snickering from the boys she heard every time she passed near to the training yard. Lady Brienne didn’t fit here. That much was clear. Just like Brienne, she wasn’t beauty and from what Brienne gathered she didn’t behave the way the lady was expected to. Apparently, this was enough to mock, humiliate and ridicule this girl and Brienne knew like anyone else how it was to be on the receiving end of other people’s jests. 

But Brienne had mum, who would hug her while she cried about another hurtful remark and name she was called by kids in school. Mum, who would reassure her that she was good and smart and that she was loved just the way she was.

Brienne had dad who would tell her not to listen to the bunch of stupid kids and if mum wasn’t around, he would wink and tell her to punch the punks if they continue to be assholes.

Brienne also had an older brother who would stand in her defence any time someone hurt her.

And Brienne had two sisters who could always find a way to cheer her up and make her feel better in her own skin. 

This was Brienne’s world. Only now she realized what Gal was trying to tell her. She was never alone, she always had her family while Lady Brienne didn’t have anyone, except for scolding septa and father who was more interested in entertaining a new woman every year than taking care of his daughter.

Thinking about Lady Brienne was still making Brienne uneasy. Staring through the window and observing the stars, so much brighter than in her world, she often wondered where the lady was. Did she die and Brienne came and took over her body? Did they switch places? Did Brienne die and Lady Brienne just disappear? Those reflections always left her with a tight knot in her insides. She couldn’t help the feeling that she was an intruder. That she stole the life of an innocent girl who probably didn’t expect to be replaced in her own body. No matter how sorry Brienne was for everything, there was nothing she could do right now to fix this situation. She would try to do it. She definitely would but if she failed… 

Brienne sighed. She just hoped that even if she was meant to spend the rest of her days here, Lady Brienne was in a peaceful place. She even wished it was her world where the lady was. She will replace me just as I’m replacing her. Mum would certainly come to love her. She didn’t know any other way. Dad, given some time, would also accept her. And her siblings as well. Brienne only hoped that Alys won’t be too teasing and Ari won’t scare the lady with her strange ideas. If she only knew that Gal was there, healthy and well, keeping the peace between his younger sisters…

To chase away unwanted thoughts Brienne tried to occupy herself with training. Not with a sword, of course. Truth be told, recently she avoided being even near the training yard in fear that she would be asked to show her non-existent skills. But she never missed the opportunity to sneak to a seemingly abandoned part of the gardens and train her beloved doru-ondos.

Apart from her family, she terribly missed the training sessions and Coach Tarly. If he was here now, he’d tell her to pull herself together and not to be a pussy. Brienne involuntarily smiled at the memory of the most important tournament in her life. Just when you think things are going good, everything falls apart. That’s how it goes. We do whatever it takes to keep our heads above the water. We do whatever it takes to keep moving forward. Whatever it takes to win. Never forget who you are. You’re a badass.

Brienne continued her warm-up, diligently stretching all her muscles, stale and quickly tiring after such a long break.

She wasn’t going to give up. 

She wasn't going to give up.

Another week has passed. Lord Selwyn more and more often mentioned the necessity of returning to her duties and despite so many reasons to resent this version of her father, Brienne somehow felt compassion for him too. He cared about her well-being in his own way and wanted everything that in his mind was the best, but never enough to truly understand her. 

Sometimes Brienne felt the urge to tell him everything she thought about his parenting and admit that she was not really his daughter. Yet, she could never bring herself to do it. This Selwyn already lost three of his children. He lost his wife. The news that his last daughter was also presumably dead and replaced by a different version from the future wasn’t something Brienne wanted to deliver.

“Could you stay a bit longer?” he asked her one night after they finished eating their dinner and Brienne was about to leave the room. She tried to be with him as short as possible to avoid the awkwardness of two strangers pretending to know and recognize each other. “There is something I’d like to discuss.”

“Ok… Alright,” she replied, sitting back on her chair. 

Lord Selwyn looked at her for a moment without saying a word. Brienne was also silent. She wasn’t sure what to say so she just stared at her empty plate. 

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Brienne replied immediately but it sounded rushed and not quite sincere, so she added quickly. “I truly am. You don’t have to worry.”

“And your memory? Any progress?”

“No.” She knew this response hurt Lord Selwyn but she couldn’t lie. She hated lying and she didn’t want to do it any more than was necessary for keeping this charade. “I still don’t remember anything.”

Lord Selwyn sighed, the tiny flicker of hope that for a shred of second appeared in his eyes, died. 

“It is alright. Take your time. Maester says it is always hard to predict what happens with this kind of injury. I don’t want you to feel any pressure.”

Brienne nodded. “Is it everything?”

“Not really.” Lord Selwyn sighed again and only now Brienne noticed that he looked much more tired than usual. His grey hair fell unruly over his shoulder and the bags under his eyes were much more pronounced.

“Did something happen?” 

“I received a summon to King’s Landing and there is no way for me to refuse. Apparently, the king wants to discuss some official matters with me which he didn’t care to specify.”

“So you’re leaving. For how long?” Brienne asked the first question that came to her mind. She was not quite sure what her reaction should be. Would Lady Brienne be curious about this, would she be sad or secretly excited?

“We are leaving, Brienne. You are also invited and I have a serious dilemma what to do about this.” Father furrowed his brows. “I know you would not be happy about this prospect but on the other hand, it wouldn’t be wise to refuse. We could make an excuse about your recent accident but…”

The sentence hung in the air, unfinished. 

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“I think it could be beneficial for you,” Lord Selwyn said, not quite meeting her eyes.

“In what way?”

“You could meet other young ladies at the court, make some acquaintances that could widen your prospects…”

“Do you mean in marriage?” Brienne felt fear rising in her heart. She wasn’t ready for that. “But…”

“I know what I said the last time and I won’t make you marry anyone against your will. I don’t want you to be miserable and unhappy. But I would like you to reconsider your decision regarding this subject. Maybe if you met someone who captures your attention…”

“And what if no one would be interested in me?” Brienne asked, trying to mask the bitterness in her voice. In her previous life, there were several boys she liked and one who made her heart beat faster every time her eyes landed on his beautiful face. She was in love with him, longingly looking in his direction and silently praying to all the gods she knew that he would raise his eyes and he would see her. But the gods never listened and he never spared her another glance.

“Why wouldn’t they? We might not be from a great house but we certainly are not nobodies.”

Now it was Brienne’s turn to let out a deep sigh. Of course, someone might be tempted by the island. It was the complete opposite of what she meant but Brienne swallowed the words of protest. If three failed betrothals weren’t enough for him to understand then no matter what she said wouldn’t change the views that were ingrained in him for years.

“What else am I supposed to do there except for hunting for a husband? Have a little vacation?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, lor… father.” Brienne smiled and to cover up her slip, she quickly added, “If you want me to go with you, I will.”

“Excellent. I knew you would see the reason.”

Clearly relieved, Lord Selwyn drank the rest of the wine in his goblet. He was ready to leave the table when Brienne asked.

“When are we planning to leave?”

In a mere second Lord Selwyn’s face became tense and uninviting.

“As soon as possible. The king doesn’t like to wait.”

“The king? Who is that by the way?” Just the other day she was thinking about that, trying to remember who ruled in 299 AC but in the end, she wasn’t able to come up with a certain answer. Was it Targaryen king or was their dynasty already gone? Brienne wanted to ask Ellie but after more exhausting training than usual, it just slipped her mind.

“The Kingslayer,” Lord Selwyn spat the name not even trying to hide the disdain in his voice. “You are lucky you don’t remember this man.”

“The Kingslayer?” she repeated. Indeed, she didn’t remember such a name but even if history wasn’t her strongest subject, Brienne was quite sure there was no such a king as the Kingslayer. “Does he have any other name?” 

Lord Selwyn shot her a disapproving look but answered anyway.

“Jaime Lannister if you need to know,” he said getting up from the table. “Now that you made me mention him, I am reminded that there are some letters I need to prepare before our departure. Goodnight, Brienne.”

“Goodnight, father.”  

Sleep couldn’t find her that night. Her mind was completely occupied with the name her father said. Jaime Lannister. She knew him. Everyone in Westeros did. His face smiled from hundred dragon bills and statues of him proudly stood in every city throughout the whole continent. The most famous ruler in history. The greatest king in Westeros. Jaime Lannister, commonly known as Goldenhand the Just.

Chapter Text

King’s Landing, the capital city ruled by one of the greatest rulers in the whole history of Westeros, turned out to be a great disappointment. At the end of the horrible journey, after a few embarrassing episodes where she had to admit in front of the whole party that basically she forgot how to ride a horse, Brienne found King’s Landing in 299 AC to be the most overcrowded and the most stinky city she has ever visited.

And for Goldenhand the Just… Apparently, he had more pressing matters to attend to than meeting the members of a smaller house which immensely annoyed Lord Selwyn who was trying his best not to curse the king out loud in his own keep.

It was another thing that surprised Brienne greatly. Everyone was very reluctant to talk about the king. All the questions she asked Lord Selwyn the next morning were met with a pure disgust on his face and snarky comment stating that the king was not worth wasting the air in his lungs. This effectively silenced Brienne for the rest of the breakfast. Later she approached maester Volden and Ser Goodwin but none of them was willing to say anything except for a short statement claiming it wasn’t something for young ladies to discuss. Even Ellie flushed deep red at the mention of the king, quickly changing the subject and asking septa Roelle was out of question for obvious reasons. 

All those reactions left Brienne completely confused. It was Goldenhand the Just! The most caring and innovative ruler according to all history books and overly arrogant and overconfident yet incredibly handsome, romantic and good-hearted king according to the most popular historical TV drama which captured people's hearts with a thrilling plot, beautiful costumes, locations, amazing actors and performances.  

Brienne fondly remembered those evenings when together with mum, Ari and Alys, they sat in their living room, excitedly waiting for the next episode. Even dad and Gal who pretended to dislike all this women’s rubbish always found a reason to be around and secretly watch it with them. Very soon the series became one of their favourite family activities which inspired a lot of heated discussions regarding the truthfulness of the shown events and plotlines. While Brienne agreed with Gal that most parts of the story were made up by screenwriters to increase the drama and keep the viewers interested, the core of it was one of the few undoubtedly proven facts— the king's great love for a mysterious woman called Vesper, his only Queen, his friend, his confidant, his love.

The preserved letters written by his untrained left hand didn’t leave much space to question his feelings, however, the legends surrounding their relationship had no respectable historical sources to either confirm or deny them. The most common one claimed that Vesper was a warrior woman, who captured the king's heart with her beauty, honour and courage. He loved her dearly and she loved him, yet fate was cruel to them. Vesper was promised to someone else as was the king. But it didn’t stop them from secretly seeing each other. Until one night, the king's fiancée, jealous of his affections for another woman, sent a group of assassins after her rival. Vesper, who didn’t think to bring a sword to a tryst with her lover was quickly overpowered by a group of men. She would have been killed, had the king not saved her from a terrible fate, losing his most precious part—his right hand. In a blinking moment, from a renowned warrior, he became a cripple. But it didn’t matter to Vesper. She stayed by his side, tended his wounds and cared for him. Although they never managed to be together, it was her presence and influence that reflected in all the important decisions he made.

Who was she? Brienne often wondered, trying to find anything that could help her imagine the real person Vesper must have been but to her immense disappointment the information about this woman was almost non-existent. Even her name has been questioned by some historians and linguists arguing that Vesper could not be a name of a person living in Westeros at that time because this word referring to evening star was brought to Westeros at least a hundred years later by the people sailing from Westernwest Islands.

Brienne sighed as she stared at the sea through the window of her new chamber. The sun was high, highlighting the greenish tones in the surrounding waters. It must have been close to noon and that meant an obligatory tea and sewing with other ladies. 

Brienne has met most of them a few days ago and it wasn’t the most pleasant meeting. Ladies looked disapprovingly at her hair which Brienne had cut shortly before their arrival to King's Landing in a pathetic attempt to copy the haircut Ari has given her. And to annoy septa Roelle who couldn’t find a word for thirty long seconds after seeing her and then rushed to report it to Lord Selwyn. Luckily, he had no mind to care about his daughter's hairstyle, scolded septa for interrupting his important meeting and after a snarky comment directed at Brienne that it would go well with her breeches, he locked himself in a study together with a visiting lord whose name Brienne didn’t even remember.

Unfortunately, breeches ended up on a list of forbidden things in King’s Landing, especially in the court. Brienne was forced to wear a dress that poorly tightened around her broad shoulders and flat chest. The ladies didn’t miss any of her faults, their eyes lingering on her big hands and clumsy attempts to embroider a simple flower on a silken handkerchief.

Her silence also didn’t do her any favour as Brienne found it difficult to follow and contribute to the conversation about the ongoing events and gossips until suddenly, she became the centre of attention after failing to answer some stupid question the real Lady Brienne undoubtedly would know the answers to. She had to use the excuse of losing her memories and it became a sensation. Everyone wanted to know how it felt to almost die, if it was painful and how she managed to live without any memories.

The next day Brienne received several invitations for afternoon tea which made Lord Selwyn really proud. Brienne didn’t want to spoil his joy even if she herself felt like a caged monkey displayed on exhibition so she did what a good daughter was supposed to do and accepted them.

In time free of her social obligations, Brienne explored the castle in search of some place for her training. It was over two months since the accident, her body fully recovered and demanded some exercise which Brienne was more than willing to do. Once she tried to do it in her room but got caught by septa Roelle who later gave her a long lecture about ladylike behaviour and performing such indecent moves. Brienne listened to everything without a word, mentally rolling her eyes. It was better to just ignore the bitter woman. Every word said to her in response only ignited a new wave of scolding and lectures which Brienne was tired of listening to. 

The days passed on evening teas, walks around the keep and nights on training. It was the only time when most of the people inhabiting the keep retired to the confines of their chambers. Every night, Brienne waited until everyone fell asleep by silently conversing with her family about her new life and recollecting the time spent together. Only when the last steps outside ceased, she carefully sneaked to the training yard abandoned for the night.

It quickly became the only part of the day which Brienne could use only for herself. To focus on her thoughts and to remind herself that there still was Brienne Tarth hidden inside, pretending and acting as Lady Brienne of Tarth, the heiress of Evenfall Hall, always under the watchful eyes of horrible septa and ladies of the court ready to pierce her with their scorn and mocking disguised as honeyed words. You can’t be strong on the outside if you’re not strong on the inside, Brienne silently repeated the mantra, smiling at every biting remark. They won’t hurt me with their words, the kicks she later delivered to poor dummies were the only way out for her frustrations.

And the frustration was growing every day. Brienne still didn’t figure out how to return home. Several times she found her way to the library but so far there was nothing useful in entangled alleys of high shelves filled with tomes of different thicknesses and sizes. And she was wary to ask anyone for help. How would you explain that you need a book preferably with direct instruction on how to travel in time?

After another day of unsuccessful search, annoyed and utterly dejected, with lungs filled with dust, she went outside to the gardens. The lowering sun gently illuminated the neat alleys and the fresh breeze carried the gentle scent of sea with a note of familiar spicy sweetness. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine she was home, in their garden surrounded by flowers, all in different colours and shapes, mum’s passion and pride. They would sit on an old wooden bench, together with mum and her sisters, gossiping about everything and nothing at all. In the distance, behind the fence Gal and Willas would kick a football against the high brick wall of their school, generating incomprehensible amounts of shouts and noises, meanwhile dad would lock himself in his garage, taking care of his beloved cars and repairing or improving everything that found a way into his hands.

“It is a beautiful day for a walk in the gardens, Lady Brienne.” Brienne blinked and turned away from the tiny purple flowers with a memory-inducing smell to see Lady Margaery Tyrell walking towards her with a pair of her cousins as a tail. “Do you mind if we join you?”

“Not at all.” She liked Margaery. They first met a few days ago at one of the tea parties and Brienne quickly discovered that the girl was this kind of person that was friends with everyone thanks to her easy-going attitude, contagious optimism and natural talent to keep conversation. 

“Wonderful!” Margaery exclaimed cheerfully. “Let’s move this way. There is an amazing fountain at the end of this alley. Have you already made yourself familiar with it?”

“Not quite. We arrived not so long ago and I didn’t have much time to explore the gardens.”

“I guess you were quite busy with all this attention you’ve got.”

“You can say so.”

Margaery smiled in response. 

They walked in silence for a few moments, surrounded by the sounds of singing birds and a distant chatter coming from Margaery’s cousins who stayed a bit behind.

“How long are you planning to stay in King’s Landing, Lady Brienne?”

“I have no idea. Father was summoned to renew his fealty to the crown but the king refused to meet with him so far.”

“Oh, did he?” Margaery’s eyes piqued with curiosity at this information but she quickly hid it under another smile. She always smiles, came an unsettling thought. Like my friend always did. As if sensing Brienne’s sudden change in mood, Margaery put her tiny delicate hand on Brienne’s shoulder and leaning in, she whispered. “It shouldn’t be that surprising. There is the rumour that the king has some family issues that made him quite indisposed.”

The statement was supported by a wink and a knowing smile which meaning Brienne couldn’t quite get. 

“What do you mean, Lady Margaery?”

“Just Margaery if you please. I have a feeling that we will be friends with you.”

“Alright,” Brienne agreed. It was a nightmare to remember that the etiquette required her to address everyone with an appropriate title as well as it was strange when everyone called her a lady when Brienne definitely didn’t feel like one. “But only if you call me Brienne.”

“Of course, Brienne.”

“What did you mean by the king's family issues?” Brienne asked again. Her interest in Goldenhand the Just was rising every day, fuelled by the silent agreement to not share a word about him.

Margaery carefully looked around like she was afraid of someone hearing them. Fortunately, her cousins slowed down enough to not be in a hearing range.

“I always forget that you don’t remember anything,” Margaery began with evident hesitation. “But you see, there are things which better not be discussed openly. Especially in Red Keep because here, every wall has its ears and every tree has its eyes.”

“The things about king Jaime?”

Margaery raised her perfect brow but no word escaped her lips.

“Something everyone knows but no one talks?” Brienne guessed.

“Precisely. There were people in the past who opposed them and dared to criticize them. They don’t do it anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because they are dead.”

“But-”

Brienne didn’t finish her sentence as Margaery's cousins joined them ruining the opportunity for further conversation.

*

Brienne looked around carefully. She was not being followed. Tired of the keep, she finally decided to sneak outside and visit the city. Lord Selwyn was meeting that day some other nobles from Stormlands who also happened to visit the capital but for some strange reason, he didn’t want Brienne to accompany him. There were no other invitations for tea which left her without anything to do. 

The streets of King’s Landing hit her with the stench of an overcrowded half a million city without an effective sewage system. Brienne walked through broad roads, hiding in the shadow of trees. People passing her didn’t pay much attention to the tall figure dressed in a simple grey shirt and breeches, she smuggled in one of her coffers. Good, I can pass as a servant carrying out an errand, Brienne thought, quickening her steps at the sight of buildings attracting different kinds of men she didn’t want to find herself anywhere near.  

After an energizing walk, she stopped to admire the surroundings. Shame it didn’t survive to my times, she thought looking at a great building of black marble. Nearby the Great Sept of Baelor and its seven crystal towers dispersing light to all colours of the rainbow took her breath away. The sept was much more impressive than Brienne remembered from her previous visits to King’s Landing. Here, it was the highest, the most majestic building in the city, competing only with the Red Keep, not overshadowed by surrounding skyscrapers.

After a while, she moved on, walking through the different alleys and streets until she reached quite a spacious square turned into a marketplace. Brienne has never seen so many different fabrics, clay pots, rugs, bottles with unidentified potions and so many various weapons which looked more like pieces of art than fighting tools. 

She came closer to the first stand and tentatively touched a deep blue fabric. It was so smooth and nice under her fingers. Ari would go crazy if she could have some of it and this pin would look wonderful in Alys’ hair. 

With a deep sigh, she moved to the next one. Weapons. Daggers, knives, sabres, lances and swords. Gal would do anything to see it, Brienne thought, tentatively touching the steel heated in the sun, he’d probably enjoy swinging it in the training yards. Just like Lady Brienne did. She was even good at it; Brienne remembered the conversation with Ser Goodwin. 

She took one of the simplest swords displayed and carefully weighted that in her hands. It felt good, a bit heavy but powerful. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to learn how to use it. If she did, it would definitely annoy septa Roelle. A bitter smile appeared on Brienne’s lips. She hated how much pettiness this woman could evoke in her. 

“You should learn a proper grip before you take such a fine sword in your hand. The greenest of the squires do a better job.” A man from nowhere appeared at her side.

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion,” Brienne fired back without looking at him. She wasn’t in a mood to listen to the insults. She had enough of it in the palace.

“I mistook you for some overgrown squire, my lady.” Brienne heard him saying in disbelief as well as she felt his scrutinizing look all over her body. She was tired of this as well. 

“Well, I'm not.” She turned abruptly to face him. “Listen, ser, I…”

Whatever she planned to say was instantly forgotten the moment her eyes landed on the most beautiful man she has ever seen. Even a strange cloth wrapped around his head couldn’t mask the natural perfection of his features, fierce look in his green eyes, the cutting smile and sharp jaw covered in stubble. 

“A big ugly wench. Why am I surprised?” The handsome stranger narrowed his eyes. “Were you going to say something?” 

He took a step closer like a predator circling his prey. Brienne tightly clutched the hilt of the sword. The heat rose in her cheeks. She was never easily intimidated but something in this man was making her whole body shudder from a strange feeling of discomfort. 

“Were you going to say something?” he repeated, coming even closer.

“N-no,” she stumbled. All her efforts to look unafraid and unaffected failed miserably.

“Good. If you know what is best for you, you'll keep your mouth shut. Understood?”

A nod.

“Now, get out here.”

Brienne didn’t have to be repeated twice. She put down the sword and rushed away, not even looking where she was going. Just to be as far away from a stranger and his silent threat. What am I doing? She suddenly stopped to catch her breath, her heart racing in her chest. Why am I allowing this? Did I let the fear take control over me? Brienne deeply exhaled, trying to remember when was the last time she was treated this way. A long time ago, before she gained some confidence, before she knew how to fight back.

“Looking for something for your lady, lad?” The nearest merchant immediately attacked Brienne, still standing in the middle of the alley.

“No, I don’t. And I’m not a lad, I am just-”

“You came to the right place, lass. Look at this.” He led her to his stand filled with all kinds of colourful soaps and potions enclosed in tiny bottles and started describing and praising everything starting from the best myrish oils, through Braavosi perfumes and finishing with the mysterious flower of Asshahai. Brienne only nodded, unsuccessfully trying to cut into his speech.

“So which one will be for you? Pick anything and it will make you desirable like the queen.”

“I highly doubt it...” Brienne mumbled. It was hard to stay focused when the sweet suffocating scent filled her nostrils and lungs. “Even if you had the best products in the world…”

“Aye, these are the best! Just try it and you’ll see.”

“Well, I would but it’s so many that I need a moment to choose…” she desperately tried to think of something to distract the clingy merchant. “Your trade must go well…”

“Not quite bad as it was a few months ago. The king’s general trading charge spared us from all the greedy bastards demanding money at every step.”

Brienne turned to him, intrigued.

“I knew he was a good king,” she smiled. It was the first time someone referred to the king in an almost positive way. Maybe her history knowledge wasn’t so lacking after all, she thought but the horrified expressions on the faces of passers-by who happen to be near enough to hear it immediately put a shadow on her conviction.

“The Kingslayer? A good king? Are you crazy, lass? He’s the biggest scum of a man.”

“Shit of honour.”

“Disgusting man.”

“Sisterfucker.”

Several other men, artisans judging from their looks, shouted some more crass insults. Brienne stepped back, surprised at such a strong reaction.

“Are we talking about Jaime Lannister?” she specified. 

“Yes, Seven curse his name!” replied the merchant selling perfumes.

“But why do you hate him so much? He’s the greatest king in Wes…”

The end of her sentence died in the roar of a crowd, which was getting angrier with every minute and every single word said in the defence of a king. Few men even started to throw insults at her.

“How much did he pay you to sing praises about him?”

“He didn’t have to pay her. The bitch like her would suck his golden cock for free.”

“I’m not his bitch!” Brienne exclaimed, feeling the heat of anger rising in her cheeks.  

“Calm down, why are you tormenting the wench?” The voice of the man she met at the weapon stall rang over the crowd. He was standing with a group of men with his hands lazily put over his chest. “She is too ugly to be anyone’s whore, let alone the king’s one.”

Suddenly all the eyes were again on Brienne and a hum of agreement rolled over the crowd.

“Right, it’s more of a cow than a woman.”

“And he only fucks his sister.” 

The stranger smirked at that and slowly stepped towards her.

“Why are you still here, wench?” he asked, his green eyes dangerously cutting through her. “Are you as stupid as you are ugly? What did you think when you came here to proclaim such lies?”

The crowd circled them, listening intently to every uttered word. The wise thing to do now would be to agree with him, silently step back and return to the Keep before anyone decided to correct her opinions in a not pleasant way. Brienne just opened her mouth to do so when triumph in the stranger’s green eyes snapped something inside her. She wasn't going to be intimidated by him the second time. Who was he to insult her and call a liar? 

“I wasn’t lying,” she said in a firm voice. “I merely asked why you hate your king so much. Why do you call him Kingslayer, Oathbreaker and...” Sisterfucker. The disgusting word stuck on her tongue.

“Because he killed his king while being sworn to protect him as a knight of his Kingsguard!”

Brienne shook her head in denial. No one knew for sure how Goldenhand the Just ended up on a throne. There were several versions hypothesized by historians but none of them could be undoubtedly proven. But if the man’s words were true and Goldenhand the Just killed his predecessor, then…

“He had to have a valid reason to do so, didn't he? Why else would he commit such a thing?”

The smile disappeared from the man's face. For a tiny moment, it seemed that a shadow passed in his eyes but it was almost immediately gone, replaced by unmistakable malice.

“Because he has shit for honour. He ran a sword through the king's back, he sat on the throne while the blood was still dripping from his sword, he fucked his sister and fathered three bastards on her, he ruthlessly killed anyone who dared to challenge his rule.” 

The crowd whistled its approval. “Oathbreaker, murderer, sisterfucker!”

More and more insults were thrown from everywhere. They were all about the king Brienne has never met but for some reason, it felt like they were directed personally at her. 

“This can’t be true. He is Goldenhand the Just, honourable, respected man with a good heart!”

The obnoxious handsome stranger scoffed at that.

“I am sorry to break your delusion,” he said in a tone that suggested that he was anything but sorry. “But our king is just as you hear. Incestuous, honourless Kingslayer first of his name.”

Chapter Text

The night was colder than usual when Brienne sneaked out of her room and swiftly walked to the training yard but she couldn’t tell if it was the change of weather or her shattered illusions. 

The memory of her city expedition was still sending chills down her spine. Being there, for a moment she thought that the angered artisans would attack her because she dared to question the general opinion about the king. Brienne was already clenching her fists, preparing herself for defence but again, the obnoxious stranger in a head wrap stepped in, telling the group of men to fuck off and leave the stupid wench alone. Before Brienne realised what was happening, he pulled her hand and led her away, not even giving her the time to react. Only when the marketplace had disappeared behind their backs, he let her out of his iron grip, mocked her for playing stupid games and ordered her to mind her own business. 

He disappeared with the group of his men in the nearest crowded street and Brienne returned to the Red Keep on weak knees, trying to process everything that happened. 

The rest of the day she spent locked in her chamber, claiming to be indisposed and requesting to be left alone. She needed to deal somehow with her frustration, anger, disappointment and humiliation. She heard so many hurtful words just because she believed the king was a person he clearly wasn’t in this world. Could she somehow affect the past? Brienne has often wondered how much her presence would change the future. She desperately hoped that her actions here hadn't caused any major repercussions in the world she knew. But what if they did? What if her family ceased to exist because of the changes she introduced into the past?

Trying not to dwell on this terrifying thought, Brienne quietly reached the training yard but instead of starting with a quick warm-up followed by kicks and punches she went directly to the armoury and picked one of the training swords with blunt edges.

Standing alone in an open space, Brienne tentatively weighted the sword in her hands. It was thick and inelegant, nothing like the one she held today in the market. Would people be more respectful of her if she had a sword attached to her side, she wondered, remembering how easily the stranger’s hand on a hilt silenced the loudest artisans. Lady Brienne could wield a sword as well but it was considered something strange and unusual. Inappropriate, as septa Roelle kept repeating. But she was good at it, Brienne thought, maybe I could also be.

She slowly raised the sword in her hand. Hung in the air, it was suddenly becoming heavier with every second. Brienne experimentally swung it down just like Gal’s heroes did in his games when they were slashing through the waves of enemies. Yet, instead of a graceful clean cut, the force she applied almost made her fall. Brienne staggered to maintain her balance when she heard the most horrifying sound of clapping hands, accompanied by an amused chuckle.

“I didn’t think it was possible but your footwork is even worse than your grip.”

Brienne closed her eyes trying to maintain her composure. Of course, it had to be him. From all people in the world, it had to be this man to witness her pitiful attempt to hold the sword for the very first time in her life.

“What are you doing here? Did you follo-” Brienne turned to him, fully prepared for this obnoxious arrogant and cruel jerk, when her breath was caught in her lungs again the moment her eyes landed on him.

He didn’t wear this ridiculous head wrap. It was the first thing Brienne noticed as her gaze traced down silky blond locks that even Alys would be envious of. The second thing that Brienne noticed was a white shirt under a simple brown jerkin with loosely laced cleavage which allowed a peek on his broad chest and gave the idea of a perfectly sculptured abdomen. Brienne swallowed, forcing herself to raise her gaze and meet his bright eyes. After the incident at the market, his attractiveness had no power to distract her from his cruel and unpleasant nature.

“It seems I tend to leave you speechless,” the man stated, making a step toward her. Brienne stilled herself from stepping back. This time she definitely wasn’t going to let him intimidate her.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said, trying to mask her discomfort at his proximity and the jeering glint in his eyes. “Why did you follow me?”

“One thing made me curious. What were you doing there in the market?”

“It’s not your business. Better leave me be.”

“Or what? Will you fight me with that sword?”

“Only if you make me.”

The man burst into laughter, only consolidating her desperate need to shut him up. With a sword or just with her fist.

“I’d like to see you try. From what I’ve seen you wouldn’t be able to slay a pigeon, which is disappointing considering your supposed skills with a sword. Or was it a different kind of sword?”

Brienne tightened her grip on a leather hilt, the anger rose in her chest. It was too much even for her. Who was he to insult her, to mock her? She has never been the one to attack first and engage in an open conflict which Coach Tarly always considered to be her main weakness. Being too soft and too honourable. Never striking first and waiting for the opponent to make the first move. But when attacked Brienne would never refrain from a fight. When attacked she would strike back and strike hard. She would not let anyone treat her in such a way, especially not the arrogant and cocky asshole. 

“I don’t care what you’ve heard about me or my sword fight,” Brienne looked him in the eyes. “And I don’t care what you think or what you say. I know who I am as well as I know that your insults won’t change that. So you may just shove them up into your ass.”

The man gasped, not expecting such a response. If Brienne was being honest, the words that came out of her mouth surprised her as well. But she couldn’t get herself to regret them, especially when the confusion of this handsome face was so satisfying to see.

“You must have hit your ugly head way harder than it seemed in the market.”

“I didn’t hit my head. The only thing I’m going to hit is you if you don’t get out of my way.”

“I'm afraid you'll have to make me.” He pulled out a sword from a scabbard and moving it gracefully through the air, took a stance. Those few movements were enough to understand that the great jerk he was, the man was also a great fighter. Brienne felt her hands sweating and her heart racing in her chest. 

There was no way out. 

She stood in a position trying to mimic the insufferable man the best she could but when he looked like a Warrior himself, Brienne felt like a lumbering beast. 

They stood opposite each other with raised swords. The nervousness kicked in her guts. She had no idea what she was doing. The man slowly stepped to his left, the smirk got wider on his face. Brienne instinctively made a step in the opposite direction to have him in front of her. For the next minute, they circled, her gaze never leaving the tip of his sword directed at her. The seconds that were passing felt more like an eternity and Brienne started to grow more and more impatient. The man clearly enjoyed having her on the edge. 

“Are you ready, wench?” he asked, chuckling. “Or do you need a bit more of a warm-up?”

Brienne only clenched her jaws. She didn’t want to be distracted even if she knew that her staying focused wouldn't help her anyhow in this fight. 

“You know you won’t stand a chance, don’t you?”

Yes, she knew that didn’t have the skill to fight even a young squire. Brienne wasn’t that naive. Yet…

The fear does not exist in you, does it?

The pain does not exist in you, does it?

Defeat does not exist in you, does it?

“There’s always a chance. Until you try and prove yourself right or wrong.”

“Fair point.” The man smiled and then he attacked.

Everything happened in shreds of a second. Brienne didn’t even realise what was going on when she heard the loud clang of steel. She somehow managed to block a strong swing coming for her from the right. But her victory didn’t last long. The next powerful hit knocked the sword out of her hand and it landed on the ground.

Cold steel touched her throat. It wasn’t a training sword in a man’s hand.

“Are you going to kill me now?” she swallowed.

“Why didn't you fight back?” he pressed a blade closer to her neck. Brienne felt a drop running down to her clavicle. “You know how to hold a sword.” 

“I don't.” 

“What game are you playing?” 

“I'm not…” 

“Stop the charade. You know what I am capable of,” he sneered. “You know I could easily kill a mannish wench, don't you?” 

The words stuck in her mouth. She had no idea what she had done to deserve the stranger's ire but without any doubt, she believed he was capable of carrying out the threat.

“Why did you do it at the market?” 

“I don't know what you mean.” Brienne somehow found her voice. Her heart was racing loudly in her chest.

“Oh, don’t you?” 

“I don’t. What do you need from me? If you want to kill me, then just do it.” I’ll return home then.

He stared directly into her eyes as he was trying to find something that he knew should be there.

“You wouldn't be able to lie even if your life depended on it,” he finally said, putting down the sword. 

Brienne’s hand went up to her neck. Surprisingly whole and intact. The tiny drops she felt falling down must have been her nervous sweat.

The man sheathed his sword back into the scabbard. “Is it true then? Did you really los-?” 

He didn't finish because Brienne’s fist met his solar plexus, knocking out his breath. Then she tackled him down in two precise moves.

He thrashed under her trying to get free from her grip. He was strong, stronger than any opponent Brienne had an opportunity to fight with but she knew what she was doing. She fairly earned her Champion title. And now she definitely was not going to let him go.

“Not so cocky now? All my life I had to deal with the assholes like you and believe me I have learnt how to send them into the dust. And I don't need a fancy sword to do so.” 

The man stilled but Brienne didn't lose her grip. 

“What kind of beast are you?” He croaked. His eyes bored holes in her face.

“The one you better leave alone,” Brienne hissed, letting go of him.

She quickly left the yard, immensely relieved that he didn’t follow.

The next two days Brienne spent mainly in the confines of her chamber, reflecting the events from the market and the training yard. 

First, she needed to be more careful. Maybe lay low for some time and be more observant. Secondly, she needed to keep her mouth shut. No matter what she knew from her world, her knowledge wasn’t applicable here. This reality stood in contradiction to everything she was taught in history classes. The greatest ruler turned out to be an incestuous murderer without honour, which was a painful blow for someone who admired and deeply respected this figure. Why was any of it never mentioned in any of the books she has read about Goldenhand the Just? The answer seemed to be simple. Because it didn’t matter in the end how he ascended to the throne or who he loved. What mattered was what he left. Peace, stability, innovations, progressive laws, competent heir who continued his efforts. Would a bad man care to do any of it? Even if he was, was it wrong to be remembered because of your good deeds instead of bad? Wasn’t it a tiny compensation for years of hatred and disdain? Justified hatred, Brienne had to remind herself, as well as well-founded praise. 

The king surprisingly became a frequent visitor in her thoughts. It was difficult not to think of him, especially after hearing the thousandth complaint from Lord Selwyn about their prolonged stay in the capital.

“I didn’t leave the whole island just to sit idly here,” Lord Selwyn grumped at the dinner.

“Haven’t you already settled your businesses with the king?” Brienne asked.

“Not yet! Yesterday I finally managed to get the audience and this bas-, I mean, the king decided that all the matters will be dealt with after Joffrey’s name day.”

“Who’s Joffrey?”

Lord Selwyn sighed.

“Our prince,” he said through gritted teeth and added under his breath something sounding suspiciously similar to miserable little shit. “It will be his fifteenth name day and the Crown is preparing a grand celebration.”

“Do you mean a ball?”

“I suppose so. Along with the tournament.”

If I was home, this would be the time of my graduation ball prom. Brienne sighed at the thought. She was so excited about this event. Then she believed that Hyle would invite her as his partner. That they would dance together and… Brienne was afraid to think what might have happened after, had she not found out about the bet. She was afraid that being starved for someone’s touch and affection she could have done something she’d later regret. Deep down she knew that if he had played it right, he would become a winner.

But now it didn’t matter. Brienne wasn’t there any longer. 

The thought saddened her deeply for the rest of the day as well as closed chambers and sudden memories of her home. So when night settled in, Brienne sneaked out to the training yard again. It was so good to return to the open space and breathe the fresh air of a summer night.

When she reached her destination, her mood was already significantly improved and when her fist hit the nearest dummy, all the tension left her body, clearing the unpleasant thoughts from her mind. There was only her and the dummy, hit and turn and kick, left and right and turn, and kick, and-

“Well, well, well. The way of the fist is more suitable for you. Where did you learn that?”

Brienne froze. No, gods, please no. Not him.

“What do you want?” Brienne turned, putting her hands over her chest. “Aren’t you tired of this already? I thought I made it clear to leave me alone.”

“And believe me your fists were way more convincing than anything coming out of your mouth.”

“Apparently not convincing enough.”

“Calm down, wench. I just-”

“You just tried to kill me.” Brienne cut him off but her words didn’t seem to affect him anyhow as he casually deflected the accusation. 

“If I did, you wouldn’t be standing here.”

“So what was the meaning of the sword at my neck?”

“I’ve mistaken you for someone else.”

“I hope you’ll never meet that person.”

“As do I.”

“Leave me alone.”

Brienne stormed off without sparing him a passing glance. Unfortunately, he was there waiting for her when she came to the training yard the next night. 

“Are you stalking me?” she asked ready to turn on her heel and go back.

“Wench, wait. I just want to talk.” He immediately appeared at her side.

“Well, I don’t. And I’m not a wench.”

“Maybe it’s time to introduce yourself, my lady?”

Brienne stopped and looked at him closer. Something changed about him. There was no malice and anger in his eyes as it was in the market. There was no mockery as it was the first time in the training yard. Yet she was still hesitant if she should engage in further conversation with him.

She shouldn’t. Mum and dad would be horrified if they knew what she was doing. Lord Selwyn would also hardly approve of her wandering through the Keep at night and talking to the dangerous strangers. Septa Roelle as well but that wouldn’t be a big surprise. The woman fervently criticized everything her protegee was doing.

“We could stick to Wench if that is what you prefer, my lady.” The man said after a moment when she failed to provide an answer. 

“Fine, I’m Brienne and I’d prefer you to shut up and not follow me.”

The man chuckled. He was looking at her with amused eyes and suddenly Brienne felt incredibly self-conscious in front of him. 

“And you?” she snapped, trying to mask her discomfort.

“What about me?”

“Do you have a name?”

 The simple question instantly wiped out his smile, leaving him with an uncertain expression on his face.

“Hard time to come up with a fake name?”

He shot her a strange look.

“Jaime. My name is Jaime.”

“Like the king?”

“He’s the Kingslayer. I’m just Jaime.”

Despite herself, Brienne offered a little smile. In her time this name was incredibly popular, especially after airing the TV series. Anyone immediately associated it with a figure of a great ruler. But here…

“Isn’t it bothersome to share the name with seemingly the most hated person in this world?”

“What do you mean?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Only that people don’t react well when they hear his name. I had no idea why. It wasn’t-”

“Smart of you to say the things you said.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. You don’t have to tell me that at every opportunity you get.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Came to his defence.”

“It was stupid.” She shrugged. “You said it yourself.”

“Yes, it was. But I still want to know why. I won’t laugh at you.”

“That’s a great comfort.” Brienne watched his eyes directed at her, full of silent expectations. It’s important to him, the realisation dawned on her. 

“I believed he’s a good man,” she said carefully, deciding it wouldn’t be wise to refuse him the answer just the same as telling him everything she thought she knew.

“Do you know him?”

“No, but those people… they are in no position to judge him.”

“Are you?”

The question made her stop for a moment.

“Maybe not, but I still believe he’ll accomplish a lot of good things.”

“Other than kingslaying, murdering and sisterfucking?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be so sure about it?”

“I have my reasons.”

“And if you’re mistaken?”

Brienne didn’t have an answer to that, same as she didn’t know why was she still standing there, in the middle of the training yard, talking to the stranger. Jaime, that was his name, was looking at her with a curious spark in his green eyes that were shining in the darkness like a cat’s eyes would.

“Then it won’t be the first mistake I ever made. Well, I… I think it’s time for me to go…” she stumbled, suddenly not knowing what else to say. She didn’t feel comfortable under his scrutinizing gaze. 

“Did you get scared?”

“Of you?” Brienne scoffed. “You don’t have a sword this time.”

“Are you telling me you’re only afraid of swords?” Jaime teasingly raised a brow. “Actually I always carry one with me.”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” Brienne felt her face getting hot, hoping it was not visible in the darkness. “I really need to go. Leave me be, Jaime.”

Not waiting for his response, Brienne left the training yard. She couldn’t find sleep that night, turning in her bed until exhaustion took better of her in the first rays of the new sun.

The next few days were filled with general excitement and anticipation for the tournament and great ball. Despite common hatred toward the king and his family, no one seemed to have a problem with participating in the events organized by them. Either everyone was very hypocritical or they just lacked the entertainment, Brienne thought, listening to the ladies discussing the dresses for the upcoming ball. She didn’t care that much for the celebrations. The only remotely attractive feature about these events was the opportunity to finally see Goldenhand the Just, which she wanted to do so badly since she had found out he was the ruler in this world. However, the horrible things she has learned about him were bringing more confusion and uneasiness to her thoughts, replacing previous excitement. Just the opposite to another man named Jaime who somehow sneaked into her life and stubbornly refused to leave.

No matter where she went or how sneaky she tried to be by changing the location of her training sessions, for the last two weeks he showed up every night. Beautiful, arrogant, teasing and annoying. Every time Brienne heard the voice announcing his presence, her heart skipped a beat in her chest, yet she refused to let him stop her from having this one thing from her previous life. I'm not a quitter, she gritted her teeth, trying to ignore his idle chatter and focus on practising the kicks. Although his presence wasn’t welcomed, Brienne was more than sure that as long as he didn’t have any weapon at his side, she was able to deal with him if necessary. 

However, it turned out she didn’t have to worry about that. The only weapon he chose to use were his words, Jaime definitely knew how to use them to hurt someone. They could be cruel and insensitive sometimes but mostly they were more like biting remarks and teasing similar to those that used to pass between her and her siblings and after a few nights, Brienne suddenly realised that while being with him, she could almost feel like Brienne Tarth she was once at home. Almost at ease, almost without pretending. Just punches and kicks she performed, the tips and directions she gave when Jaime insisted on doing it with her. The bickering which usually ended with a fight and his back hitting the ground, his lighthearted laughter afterwards and the casual conversations about everything happening around.

“I’ve never seen a real tournament before. Only in—” TV. 

“Dreams?” Jaime scoffed, earning a light spat on his arm and taking it with an amused laugh.

They were breathing hard after the training, sitting on a stone floor of a terrace, situated almost on sea level. Jaime showed her this place a few days ago, claiming it was safer because very few people knew about it. Since then they have been meeting here.

“Do you plan to compete in an upcoming tournament?” Brienne asked to distract him from her slip.

“It won’t be a challenge anymore if I do.” 

“Do you think you're that good?”

“I don’t think so. I know I’m the best.”

“The most conceited at best.”

Jaime laughed. “You wound me. I took you apart with one blow. That should give you an idea.”

“Really? You defeated someone who has never held a sword? A great accomplishment, indeed,” Brienne teased him. “And besides, you needed two blows.”

“That was your lucky day.” 

The next few moments they sat in silence, neither of them feeling any pressure to say anything. Always being the least talkative in her family, Brienne never minded it. She stole a glance at Jaime. He was looking at the waving waters of the Narrow sea with a frown between his browns and enigmatic expression in his beautiful eyes. It was so unusual for him to spend so long without saying a word and Brienne wasn’t quite sure what to make of this and Jaime in general. She still couldn’t understand the animosity directed at her at the market and the first meeting in the training yard. Why did it disappear so suddenly? She tried to ask him but every attempt was deflected, ignored or laughed at which made it clear that for some reason it was something Jaime didn’t want to talk about.

“What got you so quiet?” Jaime’s voice interrupted her musings. The cutting smile returned to his lips. “Let me guess. Dreaming about being crowned a queen of beauty?”

“What? No. Nobody is going to do that.”

“That’s the point of dreams, isn’t it?” Jaime winked. “I know you want it.”

Brienne looked down at her hands. 

“No, you’re wrong.”. 

“And you are such a shit liar.” 

“I’m not.”

“You are.” He chuckled before adding. “Would you like it if I crowned you?”

“You’d have to win a tournament first. And we both know it is not going to happen.”

“Do you want a bet?”

“Are you saying you could beat the king? I’ve heard he’s in and everyone is convinced he’s going to be a winner.” And the crown will go to Vesper, Brienne added silently. It was one of her favourite moments in the series, replayed multiple times until every detail, every expression on actors faces, screaming about love and respect those people felt for each other carved into her mind. The king and the love of his life who turned out to be his sister in this world.

“Did the king learn to fight with one hand so well? Or do you let him win because he's the king?” Brienne asked, trying to steer away from unsettling thoughts.

“He's many things but he's not a cripple,” Jaime said with a frown. 

Mentioning the king soured the mood and Brienne cursed herself for forgetting how sensitive the topic was. The conversation wasn’t the same after that and soon she returned to her chambers. 

The next week passed uneventfully. Everything was ready for the tournament which Brienne was going to attend with her father, along with other invited nobles. Despite her previous indifference, Brienne couldn’t hide her excitement which was steadily growing since Jaime reluctantly confirmed he would be participating. 

Despite her best efforts, for the last few days, the thought of him couldn’t leave her mind. Even in her dreams, he didn’t leave her alone. But it wasn’t the dreams that bothered Brienne the most. Recently she realised during their encounters that with every day Jaime was becoming more tired and kind of… anxious? Brienne wasn’t sure what to make of the dark circles around his eyes and dull looks which he tried to cover with the double amount of jokes and teasing.

“Jaime, is everything alright?” she finally got the courage to ask him. It was the last night before the tournament and he was unusually silent. “Are you nervous about the competition?”

He shrugged off her question leaving them in tense silence.

“If something is bothering you, you can tell me.”

“Your questions are bothering me.”

Brienne felt a pang in her heart. 

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to help—”

“Why are you doing that? Why are you acting like you care?”

“Because I do.” The words escaped her mouth faster than she realised what she was saying, surprising her even more than him.

“You won’t soon.” 

“What makes you say that?”

He didn’t reply, choosing to look ahead at restless waters but Brienne guessed the answer all the same. Experience. The certainty seeping from his words silently screamed that it was not the first time someone made him feel that way and Brienne didn’t want to be one of those people. She knew the feeling too well, how utterly devastating it was to discover that someone you considered your friend didn’t care for you anymore or never really had. Did Jaime think of her as his friend? Brienne has never even tried to put a label on their strange acquaintance. He was just Jaime, an annoying and arrogant stranger, taking too much delight in interrupting her training. The one person with whom Brienne could be almost herself instead of pretending to be Lady Brienne of Tarth. Despite their unfortunate first meeting, it was way more than any other person she met here has ever given her.  

“Jaime, I care for you and it is not going to change anytime soon. Unless you start to be even more annoying than you usually are.”

He didn’t seem to hear her words and if he did, he did a good job to look unaffected. Such a reaction hurt but Brienne wasn’t ready to give up yet. She tentatively reached forward and took his hand into her own. Jaime gasped at the contact but didn’t move his hand away. Now his eyes were staring directly into her, the expression in them Brienne could not understand.

“I won’t stop caring for you,” she repeated, trying to put all her heart into those words. “Do you believe me?”

Jaime swallowed. 

“I do,” he said eventually, giving her hand a little squeeze. It was time to let go of him but Brienne couldn’t bring herself to do it. Surprisingly Jaime also wasn’t in a hurry to free his palm from her grasp. 

Brienne didn’t know for how long they sat like that in complete silence with intertwined hands. It didn’t matter, it felt so good. To have Jaime’s hand in her own.  It was calloused and so warm. Brienne has never held anyone’s hand before and she was immensely overwhelmed that this simple gesture could bring so much comfort. She barely refrained herself from stroking the front of his hand with her thumb. She knew it would be too much and she could ruin everything again. 

“Let's go. The sun will rise soon.” Brienne heard his voice and without saying anything in response they left the terrace. 

A few hours later Lady Brienne of Tarth, with eyes reddened from the lack of sleep, and her father took their places in the arena. It was loud and crowded, filled with excitement for the jousting tournament.

Brienne found the king’s lodge situated directly opposite to theirs. The king wasn’t there due to his participation but Brienne could clearly see the golden-haired prince, whose name day they were celebrating, together with two other children and the most beautiful woman Brienne has ever seen. 

“Is it the Queen?” she asked Lord Selwyn.

“Queen Cersei, yes,” he replied, trying to maintain a straight face. “King’s concubine and the mother of his kids.”

“Concubine? Not his wife?”

“Not so loud, Brienne,” Lord Selwyn hissed. “She is his twin sister. The Faith didn’t agree to a marriage, the rumours say it was Lord Tywin’s insistence but they decided they are above it. Now, no more words about any of this.”

Oh, that’s why they couldn’t be together. It wasn’t the kind of forbidden love she expected from the most famous love story but now, seeing the queen, it was blatantly obvious why any man would do anything for such a woman. 

Brienne directed her gaze at the king, donned in a full set of golden armour with a helmet in a form of a lion head, holding laces in one hand and the lance in the other. His hand. It hasn't happened yet. Maybe it won’t? Maybe this man will never become Goldenhand the Just? Maybe everything she knew was just a simple mistake of a scribe misspelling in the chronicle Goldenhead the Joust? 

The loud signal interrupted her thoughts. The tournament began. It was both, exciting and terrifying, to watch lances being crushed to shreds and knights falling from their horses. Brienne hoped that no one of the defeated got any serious injuries. Especially she feared for Jaime. Every time the mystery knight was entering the joust, Brienne involuntarily squeezed her hands, trying to calm down her racing heart. But he was doing quite well, however not even close compared to the king who was crushing one opponent after another.

Jaime will need a lot of luck against him, Brienne thought, stilling herself at the edge of her seat as the king and mysterious knight readied for a joust. The final round. The signal rang and both of them went straight into the gallop. Brienne held her breath as their lances crushed, sending the knight to the ground. 

The king made a triumphant circle around the arena but Brienne wasn’t paying much attention. She only cared that Jaime would be taken care of. She sighed in relief when two squires came to him and helped him get off the field. 

Only then Brienne looked at the winner. Despite everything she had found out about him, she was still curious about the man hidden under the armour of gold. Was he anything like the statues and his portraits on hundred dragon bills? 

King removed his helmet, freeing golden blonde locks. Brienne suspiciously narrowed her eyes. He was standing with his back to her, receiving the flower crown but she couldn’t get rid of the feeling that something was wrong. 

Then the king turned his head and it finally hit Brienne. She knew his face. She knew those features, so much different from the portraits and sculptures. She knew because the last three weeks she spent every night looking at him. She knew because his face occupied her dreams. She knew because…

Brienne sat frozen, unable to make any move, watching as Jaime, no, the king Jaime made another circle around the arena with a crown in his hand. He was coming in her direction. Their eyes locked for the briefest moment and Brienne could swear she saw a tiny smile on his face. She smiled in return. Only to see him turning his horse and riding in the opposite direction to place the crown of flowers on his sister’s golden curls, so similar to his own.

Chapter Text

“Leave us.”

The squire’s hands stopped on his breastplate. The young boy uncertainly looked at Cersei who entered the tent and then turned to Jaime, seeking confirmation.

“Finish your task.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Peck said in a slightly trembling voice, continuing to undo the clasps.  

Behind his back, Jaime heard Cersei stepping closer to the small table in the corner in his tent and pouring herself a glass of wine. Despite not seeing her, Jaime could perfectly imagine an annoyed furrow of her brows and feel the cutting look on his back. Cersei didn’t like to wait or to be ignored.

 “Thank you, Peck. You may leave now,” Jaime said as the last piece of his armour released his body. The boy bowed and quickly retreated, leaving Jaime with Cersei’s growing annoyance. She was surely still cross with him for their latest argument concerning Joffrey’s name day celebration.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to face her. She was breathtakingly beautiful as always, wearing an intricate red gown decorated with golden thread. Her golden locks loosely fell over her shoulder in an elegant wave. It didn’t escape his attention that she wasn’t wearing the flower crown, he so solemnly bestowed on her head.

“Have you come here to congratulate me on my victory?”

“Victory?” Cersei scoffed, raising her brow. “All I saw was you beating weaklings and green squires. Impressive, indeed.”

Jaime restrained himself from pointing out that it was her who insisted on his participation. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t even bother with any of it. There were more important matters for the crown than celebrations of the name day of one spoiled brat.

“So what brought you here then?” Jaime asked in a casual tone, the tiny part of him still hoping that it was affection and comfort she was looking for.

“Where have you been last night?” Cersei asked, taking a step towards him, her cat-like eyes studying him with intensity.

“Haven’t your spies already told you? You waste quite a sum of gold on them, sweet sister.”

“I needed you tonight.” 

“I can’t guess what for.” Jaime couldn’t hide the bitter notes from his voice. 

It's been years since she moved out from their shared bedchamber and at least a month since they’ve lain together. Every time Jaime tried to seek her out, he was met with either a cold wall of her indifference or a closed door. It frustrated him to no end. He just wanted nothing more than to have her by his side, her love and her comfort. And this stupid celebration ruined it all.

“Joffrey came to me yesterday,” Cersei began, taking a sip of her wine. “He was very upset about your last conversation.” 

“Was he?” Jaime raised his brow. Joffrey was a spoiled brat and it was difficult to imagine him being upset about anything of importance.

“You shouldn't be so harsh with him. Why would you deny him such a little pleasure especially since it is his name day?” 

“He got a tourney in his name. There will be a grand feast. Isn't it enough? You even got me to compete so he wouldn't get mocked after being unhorsed by a squire in the first round. What else do you want from me?” 

“You know he is not much for fighting; he is not like you.” Cersei sighed wistfully. “I think the hunt would bring him much more enjoyment.” 

“Of course, it’s such a pleasure to torture another animal unlucky to cross your path.” 

“Jaime…” Cersei put her glass on a table and came closer to him. The sweet wave of her perfumes enveloped him, almost overtaking all his senses. Gods, how he missed her closeness and her body pressed tightly to his. “Joffrey is just a boy, he likes to try different things, you can’t forbid him from everything, it makes him upset to think his father doesn’t care for him.”

“Skinning Tommen’s kittens is not something to try out. And I do care about him but you undermine all my efforts by satisfying his whims.”

“I’m his mother. I know what’s the best for my son,” she said, her delicate hand resting on his cheek. He leaned in, feeling the warm wave going through his body. Cersei stroked his face as she whispered. “I don’t want to argue with you anymore. You know that I love you?”

Yes, he kissed her hard instead of answering, as I love you, sweet sister. She responded fervently, her hands were suddenly all over his body, clutching, scratching, fumbling with the laces of his breeches and stroking his already hardened cock. 

He lifted her up and in two steps he put her on the table. The jug of wine fell down, the splashes of deep red liquid stained everything around like droplets of blood from a slit throat. Jaime hardly cared. The only thing that mattered was to be with her, sheathed in her warmth. 

“I want…”  Cersei was moaning as his hands hiked up her skirt only to find her without her small clothes, hot and ready for him. “Jaime, I want… I want…” 

Her hand guided him in and the moment he united with her was like the bliss of utter delight and pleasure, making him forget about everything. The world, the Kingdoms, their disagreement. Nothing mattered while he was buried in her tight inviting cunt. 

“Yes, yes…” he grunted with every thrust. Yes, he needed her, he took her small hand in his while the other squeezed her thigh. 

“Do you love me, Jaime?” she breathed out between her moans as he felt her walls contracting. 

“Yes,” he roared his release in two strong thrusts. He stilled, wanting to hold her close in his arms but she pushed him away to straighten her skirt. Still trembling after the intensity of his pleasure, Jaime did the same with his ruffled attire. 

“I made necessary preparations for the hunt to begin tomorrow,” Cersei said suddenly. “Everything is ready. It will be a grand celebration, and Joff will be happy.”

Jaime’s hands froze at the laces of his breeches. 

“Cersei, I thought I made it clear that we can’t afford it right now. There are more important matters than unnecessary entertainment.” His words sounded much harsher than he intended, invoking tears in her green eyes.

“I only want the best for our son. I thought you loved us but clearly, I was mistaken,” she said in a shaky voice and moved towards the exit. 

“Cersei, wait,” she called after her but his sister ignored it, leaving him alone with half-laced breeches.

Angered and even more frustrated than he was before, Jaime finished dressing and went back to the Red Keep where he immediately called his master of coins, a young lord from the middle of nowhere, who had almost magical skill to summon money out of thin air. Yet, even those talents were becoming insufficient with the recent significant increase of Keep’s expenses. 

After the hour-long conversation about the need to cut them, he left and Jaime released a deep sigh. He was tired of all of this. Tired of ruling. Tired of Cersei's power games. Tired of dealing with people who not so secretly despised him, hiding their disgust under flattery and smiles.

Even she will hate me now, came unbidden though as he stood at the balcony, the fresh breeze coming from the bay caressed his hair. He couldn’t help but notice how those ridiculously blue eyes widened with shock after he took off his stupid lion helmet.

Now she knew. Even if she was the only person who didn't share the common hatred for him, he doubted that her attitude would remain the same after she saw him as the king. She's like that only because the rock was hard enough to not crack from the impact of her thick skull. Otherwise she would be the first to hate him and throw it directly to his face. 

Annoyed with himself and those ridiculous divagations, Jaime let the servants come in and prepare him for the feast. He still was expected to show up even if it was the last thing he wanted to do. What was the point of being a king if couldn't do as he liked? 

Changed and freshen up he left his chambers in the company of two of his Kingsguards. The great hall was already full when he arrived with invited nobles, knights and the richest merchants, chatting and drinking altogether. They have no qualms drinking my wine and feasting on my table, yet they would plunder a sword through my back if they had the opportunity. Jaime often wondered why it didn't already happen. Surely one of his Kingsguard knights could be convinced to do a favour to the world and remove the incestuous Kingslayer from the throne. The price wouldn't be even that high. 

He turned to the table situated higher than the rest, where Cersei sat with their children, talking animatedly to Joffrey, while Tommen and Myrcella were left aside. 

“Have you enjoyed the tournament?” Jaime came to sit beside them after he was done with the formal greeting and toast. 

“Yes, you were great as always,” Myrcella answered for both of them, while Tommen just dropped his head and lowered his eyes to his empty plate. 

“Is something bothering you?” Jaime asked, trying to sound gentle yet his words came out rather awkward and unsure. He didn’t know how to address the issue so the children would open up to him. “Well? I’m waiting for an answer.”

The second attempt sounded more like an order barked at a disobedient servant.

“Nothing,” Tommen mumbled, shrinking into himself even more.

Myrcella snorted. “Nothing just as always.”

“What do you mean?” 

Children stayed silent, refusing to look at him which only fuelled his frustration.

“I asked a question. I see that something is bothering you and I won't be able to help if you don’t tell me.”

“You won't do anything anyway,” Myrcella shot him a disapproving look. “You always do as mother says. And she always takes Joffrey's side. Never ours.” 

“Myrcella! That is not true. Me and your mother care for all of you.” 

“Oh yes, of course.” She rolled her eyes.

“Joffrey was mean and cruel again,” Tommen started, not quite looking at his sister. “And when I told mother, she said we have no right to upset him on his name day. And I only wanted him to leave Myrcie alone.”

A faint bush raised in the girl's cheeks but she didn’t lower her eyes. 

“Will you force me to marry him? Or will we be fine without it just like you are with mother?” Myrcella asked in an icy tone and before Jaime could muster an answer, she turned to Tommen. “I think it is time for us to retire.”

They got up from their chairs.

“Your Grace.” They bowed as they left the table in the company of one of the Kingsguard knights. Jaime didn't try to stop them, filling his cup with wine instead.

The feast went on. Most guests left their tables to walk around trying to make conversations, singing loudly more and more indecent songs which often didn't match the music played by the musicians situated in the corner of the room. People were coming and going and their attempts to grab his attention were slowly becoming unbearable. But Jaime kept smiling. The cutting sly smile that could mean nothing and everything people chose to see in it, while all he wanted was to escape, to find himself in a secluded place, far away from prying eyes where the sound of the sea would replace all the other noises…

“What happened with the children?” Jaime said when he finally found himself at the table alone with Cersei.

“Ah, this. Don’t worry, I sorted this out.” 

“Did you? Myrcella and Tommen are still quite upset.”

“They will get over it.”

“Cersei, you can’t-”

“Stop pestering me about this stupid thing. It’s too late to pretend that you care.” Cersei sneered at him, giving her cup to the young maid to refill. Jaime had a sharp quip at the end of his tongue but suddenly everyone's attention was caught by the commotion at the other side of the room. 

Joffrey on unstable legs was pointing at a tall stature with blonde short hair with his hand holding an empty glass. Jaime’s heart froze. Brienne. He didn't even notice as his legs carried him there. 

“What is going on here?” he asked in his most commanding voice. 

“Who invited such a monster to my feast?” Joffrey cried. “It is no place for such a cow!” 

The wave of muffled giggles filled the room as Brienne’s freckled cheeks flushed a deep red. 

“Joffrey, such behaviour is not appropriate for a prince,” Jaime hissed, wishing to wipe off the smug expression from his son's face. Unfortunately, his words ignited Joffrey even more.

“It is my feast, father. In my honour and as a prince it is me who decides who I want or do not want to see.” 

“Joffrey, as your king and father I won't allow you to treat our guests without the respect they deserve.” 

“W-Won't allow me?” Joffrey was clearly stuttering now

Jaime opened his mouth to rebuff him but Brienne was first to speak. 

“Excuse me, Your Grace. I have never intended to bother you so much. I won’t do it any longer. If you allow me, I will take my leave,” she said without looking at him or anyone else and not waiting for any response, she left the room.

Everyone was standing in a deep silence waiting for his next move. Jaime knew that whatever he did, this incident would be on everyone’s tongues by tomorrow morning. But he didn’t care. If there was one thing that he learned from his rule it was how to ignore anything that was said about him.

“You will apologize to Lady Brienne first thing in the morning. Such behaviour won’t be tolerated from anyone, no less the prince.”

“You can’t make me-” 

Before Joffrey could finish, Tywin Lannister, who was observing the scene with a stony expression on his face, rose from his seat.

“The prince is tired. Escort him to his chambers.”

“Come, my dear,” Jaime didn't even notice when Cersei appeared on Joffrey’s side and took his arm, trying to manoeuvre him to the exit. “You need some rest and tomorrow you will be better.”

They almost reached the door when Joffrey suddenly turned around.

“I am not tired!” he yelled, making sure everyone in the room could hear his point. When the door closed behind him and Cersei, Jaime could not hold a sigh of relief. The damage was already done and judging by the strength father used to clench his jaw, it would be Jaime’s work to somehow cover this.

“The show is over. Get back to your drinks and don’t forget to have one in the name of our prince for providing such entertainment.”

The gathered crowd slowly returned to its previous activity, leaving Jaime only with father by his side. Jaime hoped the scolding would be at least postponed until tomorrow.

“He is getting out of control. His mere existence is already an abomination and we don’t need that to bring even more shame on our name,” Lord Tywin hissed through gritted teeth.

“Joffrey is my son, don’t-”

“Then do something about it before it hasn’t gone too far.”

The message was clear, yet Jaime didn't let himself linger at this thought. He would think of it later, calm and with a clearer mind. For now, he needed to get out of the room which seemed to get smaller and smaller around him.

Ordering his Kingsguards not to follow him, Jaime wandered alone through the empty corridors of the Red Keep. He didn't want to return to his chambers yet. Cersei might be there and without any doubt, she would blame him for everything, while Joffrey would remain an innocent child in her eyes.  No matter what their eldest son did, be it beating the stable boys, torturing animals or abusing his siblings, Cersei was always making excuses for him and Jaime was in no mood for another argument right now.

The only thing he wanted to do now was to sneak to the terrace and meet Brienne. But he knew all too well that she wouldn't be there anymore even if yesterday her hand holding and stroking gently his own somehow convinced him that she might not care about him being a king. Hell, she was the only person he has ever met that spoke about him without disgust or disdain but with some sort of awe and respect. She hit her head and lost her memory, Jaime had to remind himself every single day, before the accident she was the same as everyone else if not worse. 

But it wasn’t enough to stop him from sneaking to the terrace every night. At first, he tried to be cautious. When he met her at the market and heard what she was saying, he was sure she was mocking him. He almost enjoyed the prospect that her little game would backfire at her so spectacularly. But when the angered crowd started to surround her, she still not only didn’t take back her words but asked the question that no one ever cared to ask. He had to have a valid reason to do so, didn't he? Why else would he commit such a thing? She believed in her words, her big blue eyes looked so convinced and determined. 

It was so unexpected that after returning to the Red Keep, Jaime ordered Varys to find out what was wrong with Lady Brienne of Tarth. When his spymaster returned with information, Jaime was sceptical about a dubious story about memory loss. He wasn’t quite sure what compelled him to seek her out in the training yard but this was the encounter that finally dispelled all his doubts. No one could lie that well, no one could pretend to wield a sword that bad, no one could hold such innocence in their eyes. There was no other way than to believe her. And Jaime did. 

All too soon he found himself craving those meetings.  The feeling of lightness, making him forget about everything that weighed on his shoulders during the day in the company of others. But the thing that he craved the most was the look in her eyes. Usually annoyed, sometimes confused, occasionally amused or wistful. But never disgusted. Under her gaze, he wasn’t the despised king of Westeros, incestuous Kingslayer, revolting Oathbreaker, golden Lion of Casterly Rock. No, with her he was Jaime. Just Jaime, nothing more and nothing less.

Jaime didn’t remember how he made his way to the terrace again.

He stopped abruptly at the entrance. The area was already occupied. A tall figure in a dark blue gown and with short hair almost white in the subtle light of the moon.

“Brienne,” he couldn’t stop himself from uttering her name. 

She flinched at that but slowly turned to him revealing her wide ugly face with shining eyes that could so easily overshadow the beauty of the stars scattered on the dark night sky. Tears, the sudden realisation was like a cold shower.

“Brienne,” he repeated, stepping a little closer.

“Your Grace,” she bowed her head.  Jaime, my name is Jaime, he wanted to remind her but the words stuck in his mouth. For the first time in his life, Jaime Lannister didn’t know what to say.

They stood there for a while in tense silence.

“Excuse me, Your Grace. I need to leave,” Brienne said suddenly, moving toward the exit blocked by his figure.

“It’s Jaime for fuck sake.” The words suddenly returned to him. “Do not pretend as if you haven’t called me that in the last weeks.”

“I’m not the one for pretending.”

“Stay.”

“What for?”

“To talk.”

“I have nothing to tell you.”

“Don’t you? Not even a curse or an insult? Or maybe you’d like to do this little kicking trick of yours?”

The scarlet blush covered her cheeks.

“Don’t you tell me you don’t want to, Brienne.” He tried to goad her into something. He didn’t want to; he couldn’t leave it like this. “You seemed rather enjoying throwing me around, didn’t you? Where was this shyness when you were pinning me down and—”

“Jaime, please.”

Finally. 

“I’m sorry, Brienne.” He didn’t know why he said that. He was Jaime Lannister. The bloody king of the damned kingdoms. He has never apologized to anyone for anything.

“For?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Joffrey. It was unworthy.”

“I don’t need you to apologize on his behalf.” 

“He is my son.”

“I don’t care for him. He didn’t say anything I haven’t already heard from kids at school.”

Jaime frowned at that but didn’t get the chance to say anything before she continued.  

“So you’re the king.” 

“I am.” 

“And Joffrey is your son.”

“Yes.” The answer was firm. “Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen are my children. And Cersei is my queen.”

The Wench gasped, turning even more red than she was before, which gave him that odd satisfaction. He was right all along. She wasn’t any different from everyone else.

“I just…” she mumbled, not meeting his eyes. “I don't even know what I've been thinking. I didn't expect you to be him… What would the king do in the market disguised as a simple merchant?

“It’s the only way to get away from the Keep. To not be a damned king for a moment.” Jaime admitted quietly. He’s been doing it secretly for years, yet it was the first time he allowed himself to say the real reason out loud. Even his most loyal men accompanying him thought it was to get the first-hand experience of the life of his people. Jaime almost believed that himself.

“Is that it? Did you just take advantage of my lost memory to feel better about yourself? If I knew...” 

“If you knew who I was, you wouldn't be the same!” 

“Of course not! I would never beat the king to the ground even if he deserved that for the sword incident alone.”

Jaime had to laugh hearing that. The memory of her moving fast and graceful, in a few quick moves sending him to the ground without even a chance to defend himself, was exhilarating but thinking about it was always taking him to the dangerous territories of remembering the feel of her weight on him and the way her accelerated breathing coming through her parted lips caressed his face. Just like then he felt stirring in his breeches, reminding him that he was too long without Cersei and a quick fuck in the tent was not enough.

“I did you a favour by removing a blade from your hand.” He quickly said, troubled by his thoughts. “Had I not, you'd have slain yourself with it.”

“I am not sure I have enough skill even for that.” For the first time this day, Jaime saw a small smile on her face but it quickly died when she added in a dour voice. “We can't see each other anymore.”

This was something Jaime didn't expect. 

“Why not?” 

“We just can't. It's not right.” 

He looked at her dumbfounded. Has the wench lost her mind for real? Everything was right about them, he wanted to knock in her thick skull. But then it hit him. She didn't know then and she knew now. Or maybe she knew all along and played to make a great fool of him.

“Then why are you still here?”

“Jaime…”

The Wench stood there unmovable as an oak. Jaime could feel her eyes on him but he refused to meet them. 

“Get out. I don’t want to see your mulish face anymore.” 

Without another word, she was gone.

Jaime stayed at the terrace alone, hoping that the chilled night wind would somehow cool down his anger. When he came back to his chambers, he noticed with immense relief that Cersei was not there. He would hate to talk with her about this. You fool, he thought bitterly, she wouldn't even ask. 

He fell asleep almost at dawn and when servants came to wake him and prepare for a hunt, he barely stopped himself from lashing out at them. His mood didn't get any better when Lord Varys demanded an audience with incredibly important matters which turned out to be Stormlands lords complaining about their prolonged stay at the capital. They should be grateful for the opportunity to see a civilized world instead of their obscure lands. 

“Lord Selwyn of Tarth was particularly loud about this issue,” Varys said, “and after the incident with his daughter, it would not be good to anger him even more. The situation in Stormlands is still not stable. It wouldn't be wise to push another lord to the Baratheon’s' side, Your Grace.” 

“I am aware of what's going on, Lord Varys but I won't see anyone today.” I need to prevent my stupid cruel son from doing something stupid and cruel.  

“I would highly encourage you to settle the matter with Lord Selwyn and his daughter today. It would show them that you take that matter seriously and that incidents like yesterday are not condoned by you.” 

“Not today,” Jaime said without room for any discussion and left his chamber.

The courtyard was already crowded when he got there. Jaime almost stopped in his tracks when he spotted a big blonde head looking timidly at a beautiful bay mare. The beast scared of another beast. What in seven hells was she doing there?

The hunt turned out to be as boring as anyone could predict it would be. Jaime has never understood the appeal of it. To distract himself from the boredom he amused himself by watching the Wench desperately clinging to the mare's neck at every little jump or the bump on the path. She made a ridiculous sight, worn in man's garb, clearly made for someone with legs and arms that did not look like ripped ham, Jaime decided. 

After half a day of riding without any success, Jaime commanded the return to the Red Keep. Even though the hunt turned out to be a huge disappointment for everyone as they were returning without any trophy, Joffrey seemed to be in an excellent mood. 

“Have you apologized to Lady Brienne?” Jaime asked, approaching his son. “I won’t let it go.”

“That's what I did,” something in Joffrey’s smile was making him look like an overly content cat. “Shame you didn’t see it. You’d be proud of me, father.”

Sure, I would. 

“Same goes for Tommen and Myrcella. You are their older brother, you should care for them and protect-”

“Just like you did for your own brother?” Joffrey cut him off with a malicious glint in his eyes. 

He knew where to hit. Tyrion. The ugly scar between Jaime’s ribs was still burning with a memory he’d give everything to forget.

“No. Be better. Don’t repeat the mistakes I made.”

“Mother would disagree. The Imp got what he deserved.”

“As will you one day.” 

“Are you threatening me, father?”

“If I ever make a threat, you won’t need to ask about it.” 

The day was coming to an end, Jaime could not hold a deep sigh of release. He had enough of Joffrey and his smirks, and angry glances thrown in his direction, especially from Selwyn of Tarth, who almost for the entire time was conspiring something with Lord Buckler. No wonder from whom the wench inherited such glare and dour face. Jaime looked around to see if she didn't squeeze the poor mare to the death with her thick thighs but to his immense surprise, she was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is the Lady of Tarth? Has she departed earlier?” Jaime rode closer to Peck. 

This squire shook his head.

“I know nothing about this,” he answered with a clear hesitation in his voice. Just spit it out, Jaime hurried him with a glare. “I saw her back in the woods struggling with the lances of her horse… I think she might have stayed a bit behind.” 

“Has she returned to the party?” 

“I don't know.” 

“Then check it and report back to me.” 

“Yes, Your Grace.” Peck bowed his head and directed his mount back, disappearing among the others. 

As they continued to move forward, Jaime felt anxiety growing inside him. Something was wrong. Where the hells did Peck disappear? 

Suddenly his squire appeared again at his side with an uncertain expression on his pale face.

“What did you find out? Where is the lady?”

Peck nervously swallowed.

“She… she is not with the party. No one saw her since we left the wood. It… it seems she might have stayed beh…”

Jaime didn't need to hear the rest. She stayed behind. Ugly stupid wench looking for troubles alone in the woods. He ignored the dumbfounded look on Peck's face as he turned around and spurred his horse into the gallop. 

Chapter Text

“Hey, where are you going?” Brienne clutched the mare's mane more tightly, as the horse under her after a long struggling and pointless turning in one spot chose the opposite direction to the one the whole group was heading. “Can you slow down? Oh gods, how do I do that?” 

Brienne desperately tried to remember what Lord Selwyn said to her this morning about commanding a horse. Don't worry, Brienne, you will remember everything once you are on a horseback. She didn't believe it for a second because how would she suddenly remember something she has never done before? 

“I should have refused to come,” Brienne said to the mare. “You wouldn’t be struggling with such a terrible rider, my sweet. But I couldn’t say no to a prince.” 

Prince Joffrey came to their quarters the first hour considered to be appropriate for a visit. Dressed in a luxurious crimson velvet doublet adorned with gold, he looked like a true gallant prince and he talked like one when he showered her with flowery words of apology for the last night and invited her for a hunt. Coming wherever with Joffrey was the last thing Brienne wanted to do but she didn't have any other choice, especially when Lord Selwyn and Roelle stood behind the prince's back and nodded at her so fervently that she was sure their heads would fall off of their bodies.

“That’s Jaime’s son from his twin sister. They are so similar that it will be impossible to tell them apart in a few years. Well, maybe except for eyes, Joffrey’s are green as well but nothing like Jaime’s,” Brienne said to the mare, imagining there were her sisters she was recounting this story to. She needed them here so bad. Who else could she confide with everything that happened to her recently? 

“Definitely not my parents. I love them but can you imagine delivering this news? Mum, Dad, I became friends with a man who insulted me, put a sword to my throat and then, turned out to be the king who fathers three children with his twin sister. I sneaked out at night to see him on an abandoned terrace. Oh gods, when I phrase it like this it sounds horrible, don’t you think, my sweet?” Brienne pet the mare’s mane. “In my defence, I can only say that I had no idea of any of it. You don’t usually presume that the strangers you meet are kings or they are into incest, right?”

The mare snorted in response. 

“It's not funny! And everything is over by the way. Jaime doesn’t want to see me again.” Admitting it out loud had a sour taste in her mouth even if she was the one who asked to stop their meetings.  “And I was so worried that it would be awkward today.”

For the whole morning since Joffrey left, Brienne was trying to come up with different strategies of avoiding Jaime but in the end, it turned out to be easier than she thought. Jaime barely looked in her direction and when he did, there was nothing but a sarcastic and mocking expression written all over his face which was making Brienne even more tense and nervous in her saddle. She still couldn’t understand his reaction from the night before. It was completely reasonable and sensible to her that they should not continue seeing each other as they did for the last weeks, sneaking to the secret terrace during the night, far away from prying eyes. 

“It would be almost like an affair if it was any other beautiful woman in my place, don’t you think?” Brienne smiled bitterly and the mare snorted in agreement. “But it’s not right even if it’s just me,” Brienne was repeating that to herself for the whole day after the end of the tournament. “It wasn't right when he was just Jaime to me and it's definitely not right when he's the king Jaime.” 

King Jaime. Goldenhand the Just. She still couldn't wrap her head around it. While she was ready to accept the fact that Goldenhand the Just was a real living man who had flaws and who made mistakes, it somehow proved to be more difficult to comprehend that all those questionable things were done by a man who she has come to think of as her friend. 

“How did it even happen that I became friends with a king? Jaime was such an asshole! I mean he still is but it was fun to spar with him and send him to the ground.” Brienne sighed heavily. “He must have enjoyed that time as well. You know, my sweet, I think he must be a bit lonely. He probably doesn’t have many friends, he’s the king after all and to be honest, he’s not very popular to put it lightly.” A shiver ran down her spine at the memory of the market. “I know it’s not the same but it always hurt me to realise that someone was talking to me only because they needed something, usually it was my homework... Maybe it is similar with Jaime? Maybe he just wanted to talk to someone who wouldn't be interested in any benefits, someone who didn’t know about his identity?..”

Brienne continued her monologue as she rode deeper into the woods. The trees were becoming taller and thicker and their wide crowns and rampant leaves efficiently blocked sun rays. Brienne shuddered as the blow of summer wind sent chills down her spine. She had to go back to the party if she didn’t want to spend the night there. The only thing was that she had to make her horse cooperate.

“How can I make you stop?” Brienne asked but the only response was a huff coming from the mare. Even you are making fun of me? 

“Okay, you don’t have to stop if you don't want to,” she said again, releasing the horse's mane and taking the laces of the harness into her hands. “But at least let’s turn and go the other way. What would you say about it, my sweet?”

This time the mare didn’t dignify her with any response. Brienne clutches leather straps harder in her sweating hands. As far as she understood, she had to pull them toward herself if she wanted the horse to stop but she knew all too well that if done too strongly, the horse might very easily drop her from its back. Not an appealing perspective but there was no other way than to try.

“Okay, here we go,” she said, taking a deep breath. But before she managed to do anything, the mare suddenly stopped and shook its big head as if trying to chase away some annoying flies. Brienne let out a breath of relief accompanied by a little laugh. 

“You see how well we work together?” she addressed the mare again, petting her neck. “And now, please, stay still for a little while and I'll try to get down and turn you the other way around. Agreed?”

The mare neighed in response and made several uncoordinated steps around.

“Hey, calm down, my sweet, what is going on?” Brienne asked, her legs stiffening around the horse’s back as her heart accelerated because only now she understood that her mount was nervous for some reason and this discovery wasn’t doing any good for her own lack of skill and confidence. 

Brienne looked around as the horse continued to make quick snorting sounds. She was on a narrow path twisting among the high trees. The evening was slowly settling in but what worried Brienne more was the complete silence of the surroundings if not counting her horse. 

“This is not fun anymore,” Brienne tried to sound unaffected and calm. She was about to pull the laces of the harness in an attempt to turn the horse around when she heard the cracking sound of twigs. For a second she thought that father and his men had returned for her but her hopes evaporated the moment she found herself surrounded by a group of men she definitely didn’t want to encounter. There were at least ten of them, she noticed as the blood ran cold in her veins. All of them carried weapons at their side.

“Finally we found a true beast,” one of them said in a croaky voice. “Get her off the horse.” 

At his command, a few of the other men ran in her direction and before Brienne comprehended what was happening, two of them were already holding the harness of her horse while others directed their daggers at her.

“Get down, bitch,” barked one closest to her as his cold blade poked at her side. Brienne froze. Her mind went blank, unable to come up with any reasonable action she could take in this situation. 

“Last warning, bitch,” said the one who seemed to be the leader of the group, lifting his hand. The sound of stretching bowstrings snapped her out of any stupor that was taking hold over her. Brienne slowly started to get down, trying to carefully avoid sharp blades pointed at her. It seemed like an eternity when her foot finally felt the solid ground underneath but almost immediately a rough hand grabbed her hair and pulled her down. The sharp pain ran through her scalp, however, she had no time to focus on it as she was brutally thrown to the ground. 

“What do you want of me?” she somehow found her voice after a hard kick she received upon her ribs. 

“We'll get what we want,” the man smiled, revealing a row of crooked yellow teeth.

The circle of men started to close around her.

“Don't come any closer,” she said, trying to get up. She desperately needed to stand up to have a chance to beat them. Her skill was useless if she was lying on the ground. “My father will pay you in gold if you release me.” 

Dad would do anything to keep her safe. He would pay all the money, he would kill the bastards, he would move the earth and the heavens to protect her and Brienne hoped that Lord Selwyn would be the same.

She heard a burst of laughter in response and another kick to her ribs that knocked her breath out of her lungs.

“I think we'll have both. Gold and our fun. Who will go first to tame the beast?” 

The whistles and cross remarks filled the clearing. 

“I'll warm her up for you.” 

“But you always do!”

“Aye! Last time you promised us. We are tired of always having leftovers after you, brother.”

 While they argued, Brienne was desperately trying to catch her breath and get up. Now she was all too aware that she didn't have much chance to fight ten armed men but she would be damned if she didn't try. There was no way Brienne would let them have their way. Even if they would kill her, she wasn't going to make it easy for them. 

Fear does not exist in you, does it? No.

Pain does not exist in you, does it? No.

Defeat does not exist in you, does it? No.

She repeated her mantra as she slowly got to her knees and removed mud sticking to her face with the back of her hand. She would stand and she would fight.

“Where do you think you're going, you stupid cunt?” She heard one of the men saying. “Tie her hands.”

Yet again she felt their hand on her. She was thrashing, shouting, kicking as their fists and heavy boots were coming to her face, stomach, ribs. It took only a few moments for them to painfully twist her arms behind her back and put a tight knot over her hands. 

“Hold the beast stronger,” one of them growled as his hands went to the laces of his trousers. 

“No! Don't! No…” 

Her voice was breaking from the screaming. 

“Louder, bitch. I enjoy them screaming. Make her ready.” He was just above her when the others started to pull at her breeches. 

“No,” Brienne felt a tear running down her cheek. She hated this. She hated those men. She hated being so weak. She hated her helplessness. She hated this world. She just wanted home. To mum and dad. “No.” 

She was trying to escape but their hold was too strong to get out of it.  Her hands were tied behind her back so she tried to use her legs. She spent so much time training her kicks but now, laying on the ground in half-rotten leaves and mud, Brienne discovered that her fighting skills were useless against their weapons.  

“Hold her legs,” the man snarled as she managed to deliver a painful kick to his knee. “Or I'll cut them off the stu-”

He didn't finish as the sound of the horse's hooves at full gallop filled the clearing. Before Brienne could blink, the silver lightning of steel cut through the air and the head of the thug who was hovering over Brienne rolled on the ground as his shortened body fell beside her. 

What happened after that was a chaotic hell. The men surrounding her dispersed in a hurry, busy with getting out their weapons. Brienne rolled to the side trying to release her hands and comprehend what was happening. Just as she raised her head, she saw a horseman cutting through another of the bandits who were now trying to regroup and take an advantageous position. 

Brienne crawled to the dead body lying beside her. Rotating and twisting her hands as much as the thick rope around them allowed, she retrieved a dagger. Luckily it was sharp enough and in a few sloppy moves, she managed to get free. 

She looked around to assess the situation. At least three of the men who attacked her were laying on the ground, dead or wounded. Her saviour just got off his horse and moved in the direction of the remaining bandits with a sword in his hand. But just before he could reach them, the arrow whistled through the air and hit him right through his left shoulder. 

“Jaime!” Brienne screamed watching him stumble as the next few arrows passed next to him. Seeing his struggles, the remaining bandits with swords ran toward him. Steel rang and every sound of clashing swords was sending chills down her spine. Brienne could clearly see that Jaime, even if he had superior skills, was getting slower due to his wound. While he managed to kill another thug, there was no doubt it would be difficult for him to beat another four opponents without archers. 

Without thinking, Brienne took a sword that was lying beside her on the ground and surged forward. She wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to do but she just couldn't leave Jaime alone. Even if it would distract some of them, that would give Jaime some time to deal with others. And maybe their party would arrive to help them. The king wouldn't travel alone to rescue her, would he? 

She was crossing the clearing with a blade in her hand, the loud beating of her heart stifling all her thought. She dodged two arrows released in her direction, the next two missed her head just by inches. Brienne kept going and in a few strides, she reached two archers who dropped their bows to get the small axes carried at their sides. Before Brienne could comprehend what she was doing, her sword ran down through the man's chest, his blood splattered around on the ground and on her clothes. 

Brienne froze, horrified by her actions. The next moment she heard Jaime's exclamation and felt a strong hit at the back of her head. Her vision blurred, the black circles danced in her eyes and the dull pain radiated through her neck and her knees as she fell down. A few steps beside her Jaime was taken down to the ground as well. 

“Kill the bastard,” one of the thugs spat on Jaime. His face was covered in sweat mixed with blood and he was breathing hard. He stepped closer to Jaime and twisted the arrow sticking out his shoulder. “This is for my brothers. You'll regret coming here today. I'll make you beg for a quick death.” 

All blood ran away from Jaime's face, his jaw clenched so hard that the veins at his temple popped out, as he tried not to scream. 

“If you kill me or the wench, it will be the last thing you do in this world.” Jaime hissed through gritted teeth when the man removed his hand. “My people are not far away and they will kill anyone who dares to harm their king. If you disappear now, I give you my word to leave you free.”

“You want me to believe you are the Kingslayer?” 

“In person,” despite the visible pain, the famous cutting smile appeared on his face.

“He might be,” added another man pointing at the beautiful horse donned in a harness made of crimson leather with golden lions adorned with ruby eyes. 

“I don't care who this cunt is. He killed my brothers and he will pay for it with his life,” the man gnarled and stepped closer with a blade in his hand.

“Stop.” The leader of the gang stepped in his way. “If this is really the Kingslayer, we are as good as dead if we kill him.” 

“You are much wiser than you look,” Jaime breathed out despite visible pain twisting his features. “If you care for your life, you’ll let us free and we will forget about this incident.” 

“He killed our brothers,” the man addressed his leader again, clearly unfazed by Jaime's words. “If you let him get away with this…” 

“Then what? Are you going to oppose me?”

The silence that followed those words was filled with tension.

“They were my brothers,” the man repeated again in a strained voice.

“They were my brothers too. And their death will be avenged. Take him over here.”

Two others took Jaime under his arms and dragged him to the trunk of a fallen tree. 

“No, leave him,” Brienne tried to get up but was quickly silenced by another powerful kick. 

“Shut up, stupid cunt.” 

They threw Jaime on his knees with his hands on a green moss covering the bark.

“Think what will happen if you…” 

“Pass me the axe.”

The command was given and suddenly Brienne understood what was going to happen. 

No, please no. Not this.

And then Jaime screamed.

Chapter Text

It was late evening when she finally crawled toward Jaime's unconscious body. The bandits have left after they…

“Jaime…” Her whisper died in the deep silence of the wood. Brienne’s eyes travelled from his pale face to the wound in his left shoulder. The sight of the fine fabric of his jerkin soaked in dark red blood twisted her insides. But it wasn’t the worst. Brienne forced herself to look down and almost fainted. Instead of his right hand, she saw just an empty space and a bleeding stump above it.

For a few long seconds, she was staring at it, unable to look away. It felt like the worst nightmare. His right hand was gone. And Jaime was dying. Brienne looked around, fighting her first impulse to call for an ambulance and wait for a team who’d provide professional medical help. But not here. Here she could only count on herself and pray that someone would find them soon. 

Trying to remember anything from first aid classes, Brienne removed Jaime’s sword belt and tied it tightly around his forearm, hoping it would help to stop the bleeding. Next, she took off her jerkin and cut a piece of fabric to press to the naked stump and the other one to the wound on his shoulder. 

Time passed, Brienne didn’t know how long she was sitting beside his unmoving body with tears of utter helplessness and desperation falling down her cheeks. It was almost completely dark when she heard the sound of horses and animated voices.

“Here,” she cried, hoping that these were friends. “Here. Help Jaime…”

Torches appeared from among the trees, the flickering light revealing silhouettes of Kingsguard knights. 

“Here,” he called again, relieved that they were not enemies. 

Everything that happened next was like a sequence from a chaotic dream. 

She remembered horrified expressions on knights faces when they dragged her away from Jaime’s body and the cloth, she so desperately was pressing to his stump, fell down. 

The commotions that happened after that.

Her fight to stay close beside him when he was transported to the horse. And his weight upon her shoulder as they rode back to the Red Keep.

And the picture of a pale unmoving hand she held so tightly in her own just two days ago laying in a stain of blood and mud of rotten leaves.

When they arrived, the maester and the servants were already warned and Jaime was immediately taken away. 

She was at the brink of consciousness when she felt Lord Selwyn guiding her back to their chambers. The other maester was there to check on her but Brienne could barely react to anything he was doing or asking her. She was put in bed and given some sort of potion which made her body even more numb and unfeeling. The last thing she remembered was the raised voices of Lord Selwyn and some other man arguing about something before blackness took over her.  

The next morning Brienne woke up with a heavy head and dull pain in her ribs. The vivid recollection of events of the previous evening made her heart race in her chest. Ignoring her ribs, sending cutting waves of pain with every movement, Brienne somehow managed to get up, dress in the loosest attire she could find and go directly to Lord Selwyn’s chamber. 

Luckily, he was there sitting beside a table with his head between his hands.

“Brienne,” he turned, hearing her footsteps. “You weren’t supposed to leave the bed.”

“How is Jaime?” she asked, getting straight to the point. 

“Since when are you on a first-name basis with the Kingslayer?” 

What?

“Why does it matter what I call him? Is he alive?” 

Lord Selwyn studied her with a hard expression in his eyes so different from her dad’s warm gaze.

“There was no announcement of his death yet. And as much as I loathe to say it, we should pray to the Seven that there won't be and Kingslayer survives.” He made a long pause. “Just yesterday Lord Tywin's men were here to take you for interrogation. I sent them away because you were in no condition to talk. But we won't be able to avoid that.” 

“Interrogation? 

“You were found alone with the king with chopped off hand and several corpses around. There will be an investigation and those found guilty shall pay the price.” Lord Selwyn shook his head, the uneasiness settling heavily on his face. “Raising a hand on the king, no less than harming him in such a way, is punishable by death.”

“But I didn’t…” Brienne breathed out, feeling all blood leaving her face. Lord Selwyn couldn’t think she could be guilty of this. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it. I… I was attacked in the woods and… and they tried to… to… And they would have, had Jaime not shown up. He killed them and then he was shot and they… they figured out he was the king and… for revenge they… they took his hand… And he was only there to save me...”

The last words sank in loud sobs tearing her chest as the horrors of the previous evening came back to life. The fear, hopelessness, despair. And Jaime. He came back for her. She could still hear the sound of his sword cutting through the air and removing the thug’s head. And he paid the price for it.

“Brienne.” She felt Lord Selwyn’s hand on her shoulder. She didn’t even notice when he appeared on her side and awkwardly, yet gently and minding her broken ribs, pulled her closer. The grey tunic on his shoulder immediately soaked with her tears. “Brienne, don’t… I’m sorry it happened. I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight. But you are safe now and most importantly you are intact.”

“But Jaime is not. He came back for me and now he might…” Brienne didn’t dare to say the words out loud. “What next?”

“We pray the Kingslayer survives and the bandits will be caught.” Lord Selwyn sighed. “But now you need to heal, Brienne. Maester will take care of you.”

Brienne was led to her bed again. It was painful to move, painful to think, painful to feel. But still, she refused the maester's offer of milk of the poppy. It would bring her ease and sleep and oblivion. Maybe for eternity if she took too much. Maybe she would die and be brought back home. To mum and dad. To her siblings, who she missed so terribly. Maybe she would return from this terrifying cruel world. She didn’t want to be there any longer. She would give everything to return back home. But not now, she thought numbly staring at the window. Not before I know that Jaime is alright. 

It was the thought of him that kept her conscious awake until two men came again and took her to the Tower of the Hand. In a spacious office, beside a wide wooden table sat a man, probably in his fifties, bald with bushy golden side-whiskers. 

“Sit.” He ordered her unceremoniously, leaving no room for any objections. Brienne did as she was bid and slowly lowered onto a wooden chair, careful to not cause more pain in her ribs.

“Lady Brienne of Tarth,” Lord Tywin started. “You realise in what position you found yourself. You cause a scene on the feast, you make your way to participate in the hunt and then you are found with the injured king in the middle of the forest among dead bodies.” 

Brienne sat silent, bracing herself for whatever that was going to come next.

“If you are not willing to say anything, I’ll have no other choice than to assume you were actively involved in this incident. The assault of the king is punishable by death. So either you start to speak on your own or I'll find other ways to get the truth from you. It is up to you how it goes, my lady. How shall we proceed?” 

Cold green eyes cut through her like daggers.

“I'll tell you everything.” 

“Wise choice. Start from the beginning. What were you doing on the hunt you were not supposed to be?” 

Brienne cleared her throat and started her tale. About the invitation, unruly horse, the bandits and their attempt to… to… And then how Jaime arrived and killed two of them but soon was overpowered and then… Her voice broke, the horrid images of that day returned again, vivid and fresh in her mind, flooding her with all those emotions and fears she so desperately wanted to forget.

“Why did you leave the party and ride into the woods alone?” Lord Hand questioned her with a stony expression on his face, completely ignoring the tears that gathered in her eyes and the shivering of her body.

“I didn't want to. It was the horse, I tried to go back but it didn't listen and I didn't know how…” 

“Are you claiming that a highborn lady of your stance doesn't know how to ride a horse?” 

“I don't… I mean I knew but after the accident, I don't remember many things.” 

“What accident?” 

“I fell from the cliff and almost drowned.” 

Lord Tywin nodded, yet the expression on his face was no indication if he believed her words or not.

“Why did my son come back for you?” 

“I don't know why,” she whispered in a strained voice, the question burning in her mind. For all she knew, it was not supposed to happen that way. It shouldn’t be her in that place. Goldenhand the Just was supposed to come back for his great love the songs sang about even centuries after those events. Yet, Jaime came for her, for Brienne. “I don't know why Jaime was there, my lord. I wish he wasn't. I wish he didn't have to suffer this. But still, I'm so grateful that he came…” 

“Do you know my son?” Lord Tywin moved forward in his chair, for the first time since their conversation began, something shifted in his face.

Brienne swallowed nervously, thinking how to answer.

“I… I don't. Only that he is a good man and the king who cares about his people.” 

“I see,” Lord Tywin nodded again. “You are dismissed for now, Lady Brienne, but you are to stay in the Red Keep until the investigation is not over.” 

Without a word, Brienne stood from her chair and moved the exit. She was just about to open the door and leave the room when something compelled her to turn around.

“My lord, if I may ask…” she faltered under his cold gaze.

“Be quick about it. I already wasted too much time on you.” 

“How is Jaime? Nobody says anything…” 

Lord Tywin studied her for a long few seconds. Brienne forced herself to not lower her eyes. 

“Jaime lives,” he finally said, the unspoken for now hung in the air.

*

The next few days Brienne spent in her bed, staring into the ceiling or pretending to be asleep every time Septa Roelle was entering her room. When she wasn’t awake, she dreamed about cut off hands chasing her, grasping her clothes and gripping her throat. She tried to fend them off with an axe, swinging it left and right. To no avail. Until she realised it was people she was hitting with the blade. The bandits would take turns with the members of her family, Jaime, Joffrey and Lord Selwyn. She would always stop then, petrified, with red blood staining her hands. When she was waking up covered in a cold sweat, the blood was still there and she was unable to wipe it off with the white sheets of her bed.

Days passed on nervous waiting for any news about the King to come but all Brienne was getting was silence and the worried looks on Lord Selwyn's face. With every day, the frown between his brows was deepening and the dark circles around his eyes were becoming more pronounced.

No one knew anything for sure and the uncertainty was slowly killing her. Jaime must live, Jaime must live, she repeated silently during the darkest hours of the night, trying to fend off her worst fears, lurking from the shadows. Jaime must live. He risked his life to come back for her. He was maimed because he came back for her. And he couldn’t die because of that. He couldn’t. The king she knew lived a long and meaningful life and passed away of old age in the arms of the woman he loved. His Vesper or rather Cersei, the love of his life, the mother of his children and the queen of his heart. He couldn’t die now, she tried to reassure herself but the certainty of her knowledge was fading with every day, slowly replaced with the realisation that anything she knew wasn’t valid anymore. Her presence must have disrupted the chain of past events. And that also meant that Jaime could die.

The lack of news quickly gave way for all kinds of gossip, which were circulating around the keep with unimaginable speed, making them impossible to follow. That the king was dying, that his wounds got infected, that the fever didn't break, that Joffrey was preparing to overtake the throne once the death of the king was announced, that the ugly maid bewitched him and lured him into a trap, that the bandits caught them during the act and the king tried to kill them to protect the lady’s honour, that…

Brienne tried to not pay attention, yet wherever she went, the looks were always at her. Pitiful from the servant girls and falsely sympathetic from the noble ladies of the court, followed by their curious questions about the incident, which always left Brienne cold and shaking as if she got out from the freezing shower. 

But it didn’t stop her from aimlessly wandering around the keep. She needed to move, she needed something to do, something to occupy time that seemed to stop whenever she was in her chamber. 

So she wandered, discovering all the hidden passages and corridors, getting lost and getting found, counting steps of winding staircases, the odd number of steps, turning left, through the corridor, then right, even number of steps, turn…

“Oh!” 

Brienne bumped into someone coming out of the corner. She looked up to see a boy, tall and skinny as a spear with mousy brown hair, masterfully manoeuvring the tray full of food to prevent anything from falling down.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t notice you…” Brienne started apologising. The boy looked familiar but he clearly wasn’t interested in anything she had to say. He passed beside her, not sparing her another look. 

Brienne watched as he moved away and then, when he almost disappeared behind another turn, it finally hit her.

“Wait!” she rushed after him. At the sound of her voice, he quickened his steps. Brienne did the same, ignoring the pain in her ribs coming from her accelerated breathing.

“Wait!” Brienne caught him just as he was about to disappear in the narrow corridor. 

“My lady?” He addressed her politely but Brienne heard the underlined hostility and resentment all the same.

“You are the king's assistant, are you not?”

“I’m his squire,” the boy said with evident pride in his voice. “And I have duties to attend to. If you excuse me, my lady…”

“Wait,” Brienne caught his sleeve, making him stop again. “I saw you with the king during the hunt. Maybe you know if he is getting better?” 

“Why would I tell you anything? It happened to him because of you.”

It felt like a slap but it wasn’t enough for her to let go.

“You are blaming me for what happened. It’s fair, I accept that as I blame myself as well. But maybe it wouldn’t have happened if the king weren’t alone. You are his squire as you say. Weren’t you supposed to be with the king?”

The boy gaped at her like a fish outside the water. 

“I was going to,” he said eventually. “I would have gone with His Grace, had the prince not delayed me.”

“Okay, it doesn’t matter now. I don’t want to argue who is more to blame.” Brienne tried to sound calm but her trembling voice was betraying her. “I just need to know how the king is… If he’s getting better… Please, tell me the truth. That he is healing... I need to know. There are rumours…” 

Brienne swallowed, not able to say it out loud as the tears filled her eyes again. 

“Please…”

The boy was staring at her, the dilemma clear in his eyes. 

“He will live, my lady. The wound is healing.” Brienne let out a deep breath of relief but it wasn’t all the boy had to say. “But His Grace is not well. I… I think… he wishes to die…” 

His eyes dropped on his tray, full of untouched cold food and Brienne felt the sudden need for the support of the nearest wall as her legs refused to carry her.

“My lady, are you well?”

“Yes, I’m okay. Is someone with Jaime now?”

“He’s alone but I will check on him once I do other duties. Even if His Grace doesn’t want me there.”

“And his family?”

“The- they… they have other important responsibilities. Excuse me, my lady. I need to go.”

Brienne didn’t protest. When the boy disappeared, she let her body slide down the stone wall and hid her face in her hands.

It took her the whole sleepless night to come up with a decision and another two days to finally convince the boy, Peck, as she found out, to help her. 

Now she was following him with her head down and a pile of sheets in her hands, sweaty from nervousness. The borrowed simple servant dress, too short to hide her legs, hampered every step until they stopped in front of the wide door. Brienne held her breath, keeping her face down from the guards’ eyes, as Peck pushed the doorknob and let them in. 

The wave of stale air hit Brienne’s nostrils as she went inside, filling her with the stench of sickness, illness and herbal medications mixed with the sweat of an unwashed body. Taking a hesitant step closer, she saw the profile of a man sitting in a chair beside a large empty table and facing a decorated wall. 

“Peck, I told you to get the fuck out here and not to return after five damn minutes.”

“I brought you dinner, Your Grace,” Peck said, stepping closer and putting a tray on a table. 

“I don’t want it. Get it away,” the king grumbled as Brienne clutched the sheets closer to her chest. The man she saw didn’t look like Jaime she knew at all. He was pale with black circles around his eyes and almost transparent skin stretched over his sharp cheekbones. His hair was greasy, tangled and darker than the sunny gold she remembered and a thick beard covered his cheeks. 

Brienne put the sheets on an unmade bed and took a step towards him as Peck cautiously moved to the furthest corner of the room.

“Jaime?”

His eyes snapped open, the recognition burning like a fire. 

“You… Get out of here,” he hissed.

Brienne gathered all her willpower to not step back.

“Jaime.”

“Did they mess up your ears? I said, get out!” 

Brienne shivered under his heated gaze. But she wasn’t ready to give up just yet. Defeat does not exist in you.

“No.” She made a step forward.

“No? Are you going to pity the poor cripple? Or laugh at the pathetic Kingslayer brought to humility, deprived of the only part that made him worth a damn? Look.” He shoved the stump in her direction. “Look, isn’t it poetic justice? The hand that killed the Mad King, the hand that murdered everyone going against my rule… Why are you standing like a stupid cow? Come, hate me, mock me, laugh.”

“You misjudge me thinking I came here for this.” Brienne took another step. “I’m here for you, Jaime.”

She was so close that she could touch him had she stretched out her hand. But Brienne stood still, her eyes locked with his, trying to silently convey everything she couldn’t with words. Jaime was watching her as he saw her for the first time, his whole body trembling as he was in a fever.

“When was the bandage changed last time?” Brienne said, not able to bear the silence.

Jaime shifted in his chair, trying to hide the stump covered in a filthy rag out of her sight. Not waiting for his response, Brienne went to the nightstand and took the fresh linen and a bottle with the infusion. 

“What are you doing?” Jaime asked when she moved a chair to sit beside him. 

“It needs to be changed.” 

“No, leave it.”

“If the infection returns-”

“Then I’ll fucking die.”

“But you must live, Jaime.”

“What for, Brienne? To spite everyone who wants to see the hateful Kingslayer gone?”

“Yes, to spite all of them who think you are broken. Live to take revenge. Live for your family.”

“They have no need for a useless cripple. Father will run the Kingdoms as he had for years, Joffrey is already trying his arse on this stupid throne while Cersei pats him on his back. And Tommen and Myrcella… They’re ashamed of having me as their father. So leave me and let me fucking die. That’s the best thing I can do for everyone.”

“Are you such a craven?” He flinched at the words but Brienne continued unmoved. “You must live, Jaime. Your death won’t be a favour to anyone but yourself.”

“You're wrong, people will rejoice hearing news about the death of Kingslayer. They despise me, they-”

“Yes, they do. So what? Is your death going to change that?” Brienne paused to let the words sink in. “I doubt it. You will be the Kingslayer who died in an unfortunate hunting accident. Or you can live and show everyone that you are more than a dishonourable oathbreaker. A man who returned to save me.”

“If you think it makes me a good man...”

“I don't think so, my gratitude doesn’t make me blind. I am aware of the things you did. But you know, my mum once said that everyone is equally capable of doing right and wrong. And what I'm trying to tell you now, is that you are too, Jaime. You are the man who can do good things like saving foolish girls.” Brienne put her hand slightly above the bandage covering his stump and gave him a little squeeze. “And there is so much more you can still accomplish. So many good things. You can be the greatest king in the history of the whole Westeros, a competent and just leader, brave and honourable man, the inspiration for the next generations who will sing songs about you. It is up to you. Whatever you choose to do.”

“You are completely deluded, Wench. The rock hit your head way too hard.”

Brienne couldn’t prevent a tiny smile coming to her lips as she thought about her history lessons, about all the books dedicated to his figure and all monuments in every city across the whole Westeros with polished golden hands from people touching it for luck. Maybe she was delusional indeed for still believing it could become a future but she didn’t care when a spark of life lit the pair of beautiful green eyes.

Chapter Text

Jaime hated those big blue eyes looking at him like he was some sort of a hero. To her he probably was. An honourable knight saving her from gang rape. Just then it hit him how young she was, naive and idealistic, blinded by one good deed even if she claimed otherwise. 

She reached for his stump and caught by surprise Jaime didn’t make any resistance when Brienne started to unwrap the bandage. The stench of the wound was becoming more distinct until poorly healed red inflamed skin was revealed, uneven and lumpy over the dull end of the empty wrist.

“How can you even look at it?” Jaime said, scanning her face for any sign of disgust on her homely face.

“The sight doesn’t scare me.”

“It is hideous.”

“Ugliness doesn’t scare me, I see it every day and I’m used to it.” Brienne soaked a piece of clean linen cloth in a greenish infusion and brought it to his wrist. 

“Can’t say I’m entirely surprised.” Jaime hissed when the fabric made contact with his reddened skin. “Though, contrary to us, you have the convenience of not seeing your ugly face.”

“I’ve dealt with worse. When you look different you get used to people’s cruelty,” Brienne shrugged, her eyes never leaving his stump. “I’d say it’s still better than actually being a cruel arsehole.”

“There's the Wench I remember.”

Brienne rolled her eyes and continued to tend to his stump, applying the ointment Pycelle left before Jaime forbade him to enter the room. Every touch of her deft fingers, gentle and careful, was sending goosebumps over his skin. 

“I don’t think you need to cover it with anything. At this stage, it should be fine just like that. But if you want it covered...”

“Leave it as it is. If you don't have anything to grow a new hand then I better get used to the sight.” 

“Okay, as you wish. And how is your shoulder healing?” 

“Don’t know.” After the pain of losing his right hand, the wound from the arrow that pierced through his shoulder seemed like a tiny scratch. “Can’t be worse than this.”

“It needs to be checked as well. And you definitely need a bath,” Brienne mumbled but then she got up and addressed Peck who must have taken roots in the corner of the chambers. “Peck, could you ask for the bath to be brought here?”

The squire, visibly relieved, left the room to carry out the order as Brienne, not quite looking at him, offered to take care of his other wound. It was quite amusing to watch how her face fell when he told her he can't remove his shirt by himself and even more when the Wench tentatively came closer and started fumbling with the laces.

“It will take you until tomorrow if you don't look at what you're doing,” Jaime said, annoyed with her stubborn insistence on keeping her eyes on the floor. “Unless you just enjoy having your hands all over me.” 

“We’ll talk about it after you have a bath.”

“I look forward to it,” he couldn’t prevent a little chuckle.

The only response was a sharp intake of air and her freckles covered a thick blush, disappearing under the edge of her simple servant grey dress. It took several clumsy moves to slide his shirt down his shoulders and unwrap the old bandage. Jaime silently observed as she was working, with her lower lip caught between the horsey teeth and a frown between her brows. 

“I'm so sorry you had to go through it,” Brienne whispered. He was about to tell her to keep her pity to herself when the manservants rushed in with buckets. She quickly stepped away from him and hurried to the door, leaving him with his loyal squire and a tub slowly filling with steamy hot water. 

*

The next day king Jaime, first of his name, entered the Small Council to the immense surprise of the other members. Even father, always emotionless and stoic, couldn't prevent his brows from rising up his bald shiny head. 

“What are you doing here?” Joffrey was the first one to regain his voice. 

“Relieving you from the burden of warming up my chair.” Jaime came closer but his son didn’t even budge in a king’s seat.

“You are not well enough to attend the council, father.”

“Your concern is endearing but I lost my hand, not my wits. And since you failed to report to me about anything, I see it reasonable to find out myself what my council has been doing. Do you have any objections?”

“I’m sure Prince Joffrey doesn’t mean any offence,” Pycelle croaked from his seat.

“No, Your Grace,” his son said through gritted teeth and reluctantly got up from the seat. “Am I to leave the council then?”

“Stay.” Jaime gestured at the empty chair at the end of the table. All eyes immediately went to his stump, covered with his sleeve. Ignoring the horrified expressions, Jaime added. “How is the search for the bandits going? Any news, Lord Hand?”

“They were found and soon you will see the report, Your Grace,” Lord Tywin said in a tone that bore no objection. Conversation in private was waiting ahead , Jaime smiled to himself as father continued. “We were just discussing the situation in Stormlands. As you know, Lord Baratheon didn’t answer your call and refused to show up in King’s Landing. The rumours say he is actively gathering supporters to threaten your claim.”

“Lord Varys, how much truth is in those rumours?”

The eunuch leaned closer, sending a wave of a sickly sweet scent.

“Your Grace, there is never smoke without a fire,” he said softly with a subtle smile on his face. “And Lord Robert only adds to the fire by secretly sending his brother Renly to Highgarden three weeks ago.”

“Did your little birds sing to you what was the purpose of this meeting? Did Renly want to enjoy the scent of certain roses or is it something we should be concerned about?”

“Unfortunately I don’t have any information about that. However, other lords from the Stormlands currently visiting King’s Landing, are becoming more impatient because of their prolonged stay.”

“I see,” Jaime nodded. “After they swear fealty they will be free to go.”

“Do you think some vow will keep them from betrayal?” Joffrey snorted.

“No. It will only make oathbreakers out of them.”

The rest of the meeting passed on discussing the matters related to the management of King’s Landing, the worsening state of the royal chest and possibilities of rebellions. Jaime mainly listened to everything, trying to not show annoyance at Pycelle’s coughing, Joffrey’s ignorance and father’s clenched jaw, the best indication of seething anger hiding underneath. Unfortunately, it turned out to be more challenging because of a pulsing pain in his right wrist becoming more and more pronounced with every passing second. By the end of the meeting, Jaime could barely pay attention to anything that was said, yet he made himself endure that to the end. 

The sound of chairs scratching the floor was almost music in his ears as the council members stood and one after another went to the door, leaving him only with his father.

“I’m glad that you finally pulled yourself together,” Lord Tywin said, his scrutinising eyes resting on Jaime’s stump. “Took you long enough.”

“I am sorry for the inconvenience. It must have been terrible for you to run the Kingdoms together with Joffrey.” 

“It wasn’t very productive, I admit that. The boy doesn’t have much interest in anything but ruling itself.”

“Is it Joffrey you wanted to complain about? Or do you want to share what you found out about the attack?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Jaime repeated incredulously. “I’m not sure what is harder to believe. That they were innocent or that you lost your knack to get what you want from people.”

“My men brought them to the Red Keep in the middle of the night and in the morning they were found dead in the cells while the maid who gave them water appeared in a sewer two days later.”

“Someone was quite desperate to hide the trails.” 

“As it seems so,” Lord Tywin agreed. “Varys is in charge of the investigation but so far he claims he hasn’t found anything to confirm anyone’s involvement.”

“It must have been someone in the Keep, well informed and with enough power to act quickly.”

“That much I figured out alone and it means there are quite many potential suspects.” Lord Tywin gave him a long penetrating look. “Including your son.”

“Do you have any evidence to support this ridiculous claim?” Jaime’s voice sounded hollow even in his own ears. 

“It is a possibility, Jaime. While there is no proof, his behaviour raises more questions than dispels any doubts. You need to keep an eye on him.”

“Anything else?”

Father paused for a minute as he was calculating his next words. It didn’t bode well.

“What about the Tarth girl?”

“It wasn’t her.” An immediate response came. The insinuation was even more preposterous than the first one. If Jaime was being honest with himself it would be easier to believe it was father’s or Joffrey’s plot rather than Brienne’s.

“Of course not. From what I saw, the girl has no mind for plotting but you care for her, Jaime.” 

It wasn’t the question. Not even the truth. Just a stated fact. Before Jaime could deny it, father delivered another blow.

“As she does for you. She calls you by your name. And she asked after you.” 

Stupid Wench. How could one be so thoughtless in front of father? 

“She must have been shocked after the assault,” Jaime dismissed the accusation lightly. “Besides, asking about the well-being of your king after what happened is hardly something unusual or worth your attention.”

“Same as her spending the whole afternoon in your chambers yesterday?” Lord Tywin raised an eyebrow and Jaime suddenly had no words to deny it. Brienne did spend the whole evening with him and was seen by a dozen servants, half of which must have been paid by Varys and the other half by father himself and Cersei. 

“Have you been fucking her?”

“I haven’t. And I don’t plan to. Lady Brienne is a respectable noble lady and if you don’t have any other concerns about her-”

“I do.” Lord Tywin interrupted. “The lady in question doesn’t have anything remotely attractive about her for someone who is not a landless hedge knight. No position, no bountiful lands, no powerful alliance. But you care for her, Jaime.”

“I don’t know where you got this idea but repeating it doesn’t make it true.”

“You are a fool to deny it.” The vein on father’s temple started pulsating but the tone of his voice remained cold and collected. “If this is the woman you want, we could overlook the disadvantages of her position. After all, she is a noble lady and the Tarths were known for marrying into the Targaryen dynasty. We could arrange the marriage and you’d have a wife and legitimate hei-

“I already have children and I have Cersei. She is the only woman I want. I am faithful to her. There will be no other. You tried to separate us for years, take a hint that it’s not going to happen.”

“Then revel in your shame and disgrace! That’s the only thing you’ve ever been capable of. First, you stained your name and honour and then you and your sister dragged all of us into the mud. All those years I offered you chance after chance to get on the right path but every time you chose your own selfishness, pride and perverted whims. And what do you have now? There is no respect for you, not even fear as you are no longer a warrior, your children are bastards, abominations in the eyes of other people. Tell me, Jaime, was that what you wanted?”

He could have been a king but father's cold green eyes piercing through him made Jaime again feel like a boy called to hear a reprimand. 

“Father-”

“It is past the time to become the man you were supposed to be. You are not the man I wish to call my son.”

*

Cersei was already in his chamber when Jaime returned after the disheartening conversation with father. Sitting nonchalantly on a chair with a glass of wine in her hand, she looked like a lazy cat enjoying the summer sun.

“Why so surprised, dear brother?” Cersei asked when the door closed behind him but Jaime didn’t take any step to move inside. “I thought you’d be happier to see me.”

Jaime thought that too. When he was lying in agonising pain, delirious from the fever, repeating her name over and over again, begging her to come for him. She never did and now seeing his beloved sister in a chamber that once used to be theirs was unexpected and strange.

“It took you quite long to remember the way here,” Jaime said, taking a chair opposite to her. 

“I never forgot. I was thinking about you all the time.”

“Oh really? How very thoughtful of you,” Jaime scoffed, not even trying to hide a sarcastic smile appearing on his lips. 

Cersei shot him a disapproving look over the glass like she always did when she was annoyed with him.

“You’re probably not aware but there was much to do when you were incapable of performing your duties. I had to make sure no one would take this opportunity to seize power from us.”

Jaime had to laugh, no matter how it hurt. His nonexistent hand clenched into a fist.

“There was an actual attempt on your life and you find it funny?” 

“I needed you here, Cersei,” Jaime said quietly. 

“I made sure you were taken care of.” 

“No. You don’t understand. I needed you here, Cersei. At my side. You never came.”

“I’m here now.” She put down the glass and stood up. In a moment, Jaime felt her slender arms wrapping around him, pressing his face to the cold red silk of her dress. “I’m here with you.”

Her fingers went to stroke his hair and a deep sigh escaped from his lips. It was all he wanted. To have his sister at his side. To have her close. To feel her warmth. To forget about the horrors he endured. To erase father’s stinging words from his memory. To forget himself in her love, tenderness and affection. His arms came around her to pull her closer but Cersei abruptly stepped away.

Jaime raised his eyes. She was looking at his handless wrist, the grimace on her face could mean only one thing. 

“Cersei…” his voice was hoarse. Don’t step away. Don’t leave me, he wanted to say but she was already on the other side of the room, facing away from him. 

“So it’s true. I couldn’t believe it when I was told.”

“That’s why you’re here? To make sure my hand is gone? It is. Look as much as you want.”

She didn’t respond immediately. For a few moments, she stood there, silent and still. When she finally turned towards him again, her face was blank and composed.

“I’ve seen enough,” Cersei said, her eyes carefully avoiding his stump. “And I was told you attended the council today.”

“And?” 

“I don’t think you should rush your return. Give yourself time to recover.”

“No amount of time will grow my hand back.” Admitting it out loud was like chopping it off all over again. “What do you want me to do about it? Lock myself away forever? The sooner I learn to live with it, the better.”

“I was wondering…” Cersei hesitated, the slight pink blush coloured her cheeks, making her even more beautiful. “Maybe this is the time to step down.”

“What are you trying to say?”

Cersei took a step forward, proud and majestic, with a highly raised chin and determination in her green eyes.

“You are no longer fit to rule, Jaime. No one will take a cripple seriously.” Her words felt like a slap but she wasn’t finished yet. “Now is the moment to put more trust in Joff, give him more responsibilities and eventually pass the crown to him.”

“You are talking if I was already dead.”

“You could have been! And that would be your fault! You rode into the woods alone after that ugly cow. How stupid one could be to do that?” 

“Cersei-”

“You disrespected me by doing that and then having this monster over here. Do you know what the whole keep is talking about right now? Laughing and making fun of me because my brother chose that miserable creature over me.”

“The girl was about to be raped had I not been there.”

“So what? You deprived her of the only fuck she'd ever get. There was no need to play an honourable knight.”

Jaime gaped at her, not quite believing what he had just heard. But the expression on her face told him that she meant every word.

“Leave.” She flinched when his empty wrist pointed at the door. “I don't want to hear you anymore.” 

She moved to the door with her head high. Just before stepping outside, she turned to him, her eyes burning like wildfire.

“The truth hurts, doesn't it? But don't worry I'll leave. I'm already sick of looking at this ugly stump of yours.” 

*

It was late afternoon when Jaime left his chamber using a secret exit located behind the fireplace. He stepped into the dark tunnel without any light. He didn't need it. After years of secret sneaking out of the Keep, he knew every turn and step. After a few minutes, he found himself outside the Red Keep walls facing the sea.

He kept walking alongside until he reached the appointed spot where two people were waiting in the shadow.

Perfect. Just as he planned.

“Why did you bring me here?” the taller person spoke, looking around but not noticing him just yet. 

“It was the king's order.” 

“What does he want?”

“How do I know?”

“Didn’t you ask?”

“Of course not! It’s not my business. You will find out soon.”

“I just want to be prepared. It’s nothing bad, right?” 

“Not bad at all. You’ll just have your tongue removed for asking too many questions.”

“Peck,” Jaime stepped forward and two heads turned immediately to him. 

“It is not a way to speak with a lady. You need to be courteous and respectable even if the lady is twice as wide and taller than you.”

“Y-Your Grace, I’m sorry…” 

“I hope it’s the last time I hear something like this from you.” Jaime feigned a strict seriousness.

“Yes, of course, and I’m sorry, my lady.”

“No worries, it’s alright,” Brienne said sheepishly and Jaime smiled at the blush that suddenly came up to her face. 

“Thank you, Peck, for accompanying Lady Brienne here. You are free for tonight, you may go.” 

The squire bowed and without a question left the two of them alone.

“What is the meaning of this?” Brienne regained her composure. “Why-” 

“Come with me, Wench.”

 He let them on a tiny, almost unnoticeable path covered in patches of dried grass Jaime didn’t remember to be there before and the bushes, reaching almost to their thighs, with prickly brown branches hidden under yellow-green leaves that pulled at their clothes as if trying to prevent anyone from getting any further. Jaime caught himself reaching to his left hip and gritted his teeth finding it empty and silently continued to clear the path with his hand instead of a sword. After a few minutes of walking, they found themselves on a beach, secluded between two massive rock formations, blocking the view for everyone not being in the open sea. 

 Brienne looked around. The evening sun showered her pale face in a warm orange glow, highlighting the shadows under her eyes and the sharpness of her cheekbones that weren't there at the time when they were meeting at the terrace. It was only a few weeks but looking at her one might say it’s been years that passed. The horrors of the woods weighed down her youthful naivete and innocence.

“It is beautiful here,” she said with a small smile of appreciation adorning her thick lips.

“Just a bit quieter and not that stinky.” 

“It’s not easy to find that in this city. Do you come here often?”

“I used to.” Jaime shrugged. He has always enjoyed this place and came there often when he was in Aerys' Kingsguard. Then, after becoming the goddamned king, the visits became rare, the catch of fresh breath, a moment of solitude without prying disdainful eyes and insults whispered behind his back. 

“You don’t anymore?” 

“No.”

“Why did you bring me here then?”

“Because thanks to your bright cleverness yesterday, Wench, I couldn’t speak to you privately without making the whole Keep sure that we are fucking.”

Brienne’s face turned into a giant beetroot.

“I heard the rumour but it’s preposterous. Why would anyone think that? Peck was there and he can confirm that nothing happened.” 

“He left at some point, didn’t he? And you immediately got your hands on me.” Jaime couldn’t keep a laugh escaping from his throat. 

“I was tending your wounds! Next time you’ll do it yourself.”

“Calm down, Brienne, I was merely joking.” He rushed with explanation seeing her clenched fists. Wench could be dangerous when provoked, he has learnt that the hard way. “But you must remember that only a knight in shiny armour would rescue an innocent maiden, the Kingslayer only the woman he fucks.”

“But we don’t.”

“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” 

The thick blush that was covering her cheeks deepened and went lower to her neck and her small breast, disappearing under the fabric of her dress. It was a great blessing that she didn’t belong to the Lannisters, Jaime decided. Red was certainly not her colour and she was too good to be one anyway.

“Then we probably shouldn’t see each other at all.”

 “Too late for that,” Jaime shrugged, sitting down on the sand, still warm from the evening sun and gesturing to Brienne to join him. She did, making sure to keep a distance between them and to not look directly at him which was equally relieving and annoying at the same time.

“So what did you want to speak with me about?”

Jaime wished he knew but he wasn’t thinking straight after the conversation with father. The order to bring Brienne here was impulsive and reckless but at that moment it seemed like the only right thing to do. 

“Do we have to talk?”

“No, if you don’t feel like it.” 

Jaime only nodded. He didn’t know how he felt so they sat in silence. 

“I had a very insightful talk with my father and then Cersei came to me,” he said suddenly, the heaviness gnawing in his heart breaking the last walls and spilling outside. “First time since I lost my hand. To tell me I am useless now.”

The Wench gasped at his side, the sharp sound making him regret blurting that. 

“Your sister?”

Her dour ugly face turned to him and twisted with confusion and uneasiness which irked him more than he was willing to admit.

“My twin and my lover.” Jaime’s voice was firm. “Am I disgusting to you now? Not because of my hideous stump but because of my love?”

“You're not.” She squirmed beside him. “It's just… I can't pretend it's not unsettling. I-I just can't imagine myself-”

“Fucking your brother?”

“No. Although I do love my brother!” Brienne declared passionately. “Very much. And I've always been very close to him, maybe even more than with my sisters. But I can't see Gal as… as my lover, I mean, he's my brother .”

“It's different for me and Cersei. We're not only brother and sister, not only twins. We're one soul in two bodies, we came to this world together and we are destined to be together as one.”

Brienne's eyes widened in disbelief as she shook her head.

“I'm sorry, Jaime, but it's hard for me to comprehend as I have twin sisters. They were identical when they were born. Literally identical. Even mum couldn't tell them apart so we ended with blue ribbon on Ari's wrist and green on Alys', though I'm not sure if we didn't switch them at some point… but anyway, my sisters were identical regarding their looks but you can't find two more different people. When they started to grow up they were doing everything to accentuate that they are not the same, that they are two different people who just happened to be born together and share the same looks. You wouldn't believe how often they were offended for calling them the wrong name, which I and Gal did sometimes to annoy them… even if we had no problems distinguishing them since Ari chose to cut her hair short, and mine as well by the way, while Alys has the most beautiful hair that reaches her waist… ”

Jaime observed a distant expression on her face as she stared ahead in the blue waters, seemingly forgetting about him and everything around.

“If Ari and Alys heard what you said, they'd call it bullshit and laugh their asses off because to them being twins doesn’t mean being the same person in two bodies.” Brienne turned to him and quickly reflected. “I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have said that.”

“Probably not.” Jaime reluctantly agreed.

“But even if we put aside that aspect of your relationship I can't imagine how I could ever tell my brother that he was useless, especially after suffering such a great loss.”

“Would you lie to him? Cersei had a point.”

“She didn’t and I wouldn’t be lying. My brother will always be dear to me, no matter if he had two hands, one or none at all. I love him, I would never deliberately hurt him. I would never let anything happen to him…” Her voice trembled and tears came to her eyes which she desperately tried to blink away.

“Brienne?” Her whole body trembled and her face became pale like a new Kingsguard cloak splashed with the drops of blood. “Are you feeling well?”

“I failed my brother, Jaime.” The whispered words were barely audible in the sound of waves gently washing the shore.

“You could not fail him,” he tried to reassure her but it only made her body shudder stronger.

“I did. I should have never let him go into the water. I should have never let him out of my sight. If I only wasn’t so absorbed in my silly problems… Maybe I could have been faster and stronger… Maybe I would be able to pull him out of the water sooner… But his body was so heavy and lifeless and I’d give everything to know if Gal survi…” Brienne stopped abruptly and wiped the tears with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… Forget it.”

She was still refusing to look at him and Jaime wondered what she’d do if he shifted toward her and took her into his arms. Would she allow him to comfort her or would she slap him and push him away?

“I had a brother as well.” He said instead, deciding to not distress her more with his unwanted proximity. “Father and Cersei hated him for killing our mother but he was my little brother. How could I not love him? And he loved me as well as I was the only one who didn’t see him as a monster.”

“What happened to him?”

“I failed him.” The bolt of self-hatred pierced through his heart shattering it into pieces. “It happened not so long after I took the throne. Tyrion came to visit us for the first time. He was so happy and excited, claiming it was so lonely in Casterly Rock without us.”

Jaime paused to catch a breath. Brienne didn’t rush him. She silently listened as he recounted the ride they had outside the city and the girl they encountered. How Jaime rescued her and Tyrion comforted her. How they fell in love and married hastily in the nearest sept. How furious Lord Tywin became upon finding out that his second son took a crofter’s daughter as a wife. How he convinced Jaime to lie to his brother and claim the girl was just a whore he hired for Tyrion’s first bedding. 

“I made myself believe the lie that I was sparing my brother from the eventual heartbreak of finding out she was only after our family’s gold, not because she loved him. Soon she disappeared and Tyrion tended his broken heart in wine and in the arms of whores. One night when we were drinking together, he confessed what father made his men and Tyrion himself do to that poor girl.”

Brienne's hand covered her mouth in an attempt to suppress a sharp gasp.

“What was next?” she asked in a small voice.

“I returned to my bedchamber. Cersei was there and comforted me. Or I think she did, I woke up without any memory the next morning. I wanted to go to father and confront him over this but Cersei advised me not to do it because then Tyrion would surely find out about my involvement and it would destroy our relationship and disrupt our family.”

A bitter laugh escaped his throat. 

“It happened a few years later. I wanted Tyrion to stay at court and give him a position here. He had a brilliant mind for all those schemes going around and I didn’t want him to be lonely in the Rock again. Of course father was against it for obvious reasons and Cersei as well. Yet I ignored them and the next thing I knew was Tyrion finding me at night in bed with a crossbow in his hand. He knew about everything and I ended with a bolt between my ribs. I don’t know if he missed on purpose or was aiming for my heart. He disappeared after that and I haven’t seen or even heard about him since then.”

 “I didn’t know, I'm sorry,” she said, although her expressive big eyes could not hide her vanishing respect for him.

“I don’t want you to be. What I did should warrant a greater punishment than a missed single bolt.

Luckily Brienne took a hint and fell silent.

“Does it hurt much?” she asked after a while, pointing to his left hand rubbing just above the stump.

“All the time,” Jaime admitted quietly, not able to come up with a lie under her blue gaze. It hurt so much, everything at once, his missing hand, the loss of his brother and Cersei’s indifference. “I still feel my hand being there. I can still move my fingers.” Jaime clenched them into a fist. “But when I look down it’s just an empty space.”

“Jaime, I’m-”

“Stop it. Your pretty words won’t grow it back. Better tell me how you are doing.”

“I’m fine.”

“You still wince when you sit down.”

“It’s nothing, really. Just some bruises that remained.” Brienne said and took a deep breath. Of course the stubborn Wench wouldn't let it go. “Jaime, what I wanted to say is that I’m sorry about everything you...”

“Don’t.”

“But-”

“Just don't. Can't you just shut your big mouth about things you don’t understand? ” He snapped. Big blue eyes were full of hurt when Brienne silently turned away from him, choosing to look ahead.

“I apologise,” he said after a while, not able to bear the tense silence that followed his outburst. “This was uncalled for. I'm a cripple and bitter.”

“Don’t call yourself that.” The words in contrast to her rigid unmoving posture were soft, barely audible in the evening breeze.

“That’s what most people see.” Jaime shrugged. 

“I don't.”

The next words threatening to slip off his tongue were harsh and cutting. Jaime swallowed them, focusing all his attention on the sand beneath his remaining fingers.

“You are something else. You see things that are not there. And you care.”

The frown on her face softened.

“You came back for me. I will always be grateful for that but it pains me how much you had to suffer because of it. And at the same time, it angers me that anyone dares to belittle you for doing this.”

“It's getting dark, we should return.” Jaime ignored a little tingling that her words settled in his chest. 

Brienne didn’t protest as they got up and dusted off the sand from their clothes.

“We probably shouldn’t see each other as we used to for a while but there is one more thing.”

“Yes, Jaime?”

“You said you’re grateful but a knight deserves a reward for his honourable deed of saving a maiden, doesn’t he?”

“What kind of reward?” Jaime delighted at the sight of a deep red blush that covered her neck and for a moment he imagined how she would react if it was the kiss he asked for. 

“Come tomorrow morning to the training yard. And don’t worry,” he added, seeing uncertainty on her face. “I won’t be there.”

*

The next days dragged through meetings and conversations. The situation in the Kingdoms was tense to begin with, and now after his maiming, a lot of people, including the council and his own family, saw Jaime as weak and unfit to rule with a strong hand. Because who feared a cripple, struggling to cut the meat on his plate, lace his breeches or wipe his arse. Not to mention wielding a sword, that was what hurt the most. Kingslayer and Oathbreaker he might have been but he was a warrior. With a sword in his hand, he felt most alive, with hot blood circling in his veins and heart beating fast with excitement. Now it was just a heavy weight of steel in his clumsy left hand and the blinding pain of his clenched phantom fist.

His whole body hurt. Ilyn Payne took great delight in beating the shit out of his king. Every night Jaime would return from his training and fall into his bed only to find himself awakened in the morning in the same position with burning muscles and new deep blue bruises forming over green and yellow ones.

After a week the progress he hoped to make was almost non-existent and it frustrated him to no end. Just the same as his family. 

For the last few days, Jaime made a point to have their breakfast together yet it turned out to be another disaster. Father straight forward refused to show up as he always did when his presence wasn’t required to keep the appearances of a strong and united family. That left Jaime with his children and Cersei, sitting as far away from him as she could. 

“It has been a long time since we enjoyed a good ride outside the city, hasn’t it? What would you say, Tommen?” Jaime expectantly looked at his youngest son but the boy was busy throwing pieces of food from his plate under the table where a pair of kittens was fighting for whatever that was falling down.  

“I can’t take Ser Knight and Lady Fluff and I don’t want to leave them alone. They will miss me terribly when I’m gone.” Tommen gently petted ginger Lady Fluff that had the audacity to jump onto his lap. Since Jaime gifted him the pets, the boy didn’t leave them out of sight even for a second.

“Myrcella, how about you?”

“I’m busy today, father.” The tone of her voice was still cold but at least she didn’t call him by his title anymore. 

“What are your plans for today?”

“There is still much work to do in my new chambers. I need to choose new furniture and the fabrics for curtains.”

“Your old chamber was good enough for you. I don’t think you did anything to deserve a new one,” Cersei added from over her glass.

“Apparently father has a different opinion.” 

“It’s already decided, Cersei. The chambers stood unused, Myrcella liked them and the views. I don’t see the reason why she shouldn't have them.” 

“It’s just so far away.”

Exactly.

“Someone might have thought you’re running away from us,” Joffrey smirked, impaling a large pickle on his fork and bringing it up to his mouth. “Won’t you miss your brothers?”

“Very much.” Myrcella sent him a deadly look and Jaime felt that the little amount of food he managed to eat without making anyone see him struggling with cutlery, twisted in his stomach.

I’ll need to hire an additional guard, Jaime made a mental note, bringing a cup of water to his lips.

“Father, why didn’t you invite me for a ride?” Joffrey turned to him.

“I was about to do so. Would you like to go?” 

“Not at all. But it is deeply upsetting how unfair you are toward me.”

Cersei smirked at his side like she always did wherever Joffrey uttered a word. 

“If it’s the fairness you want, then the fairness you’ll get.” Jaime got up from the table. “I expect to see you at the council then.” 

*

Every morning started in a similar manner. After the breakfast, Jaime would move to his study or the Council chamber, going through the gardens and then passing the training yard, already full of squires and knights at the time, training under the strict gaze of the master of arms. Jaime’s legs were carrying him there on their own every day even though it was the most painful place to be.

The knights he used to spend time with, training and sparring, were bowing to him as it was expected, yet all their eyes were directed to his missing hand, accurately covered under the fabric of his sleeve. Cowards, Jaime thought every time he made anyone turn away under his hard eyes. They will laugh at me the moment I leave the yard. 

And you, Wench? Jaime never failed to notice the blonde head towering over the group of young squires, merely boys of ten years of age. It was hard to imagine anyone more out of place than her, yet the Wench seemed to not pay attention to it, her face focused and eyes calm and determined, following every move of the training sword in her hand. 

Just as he was about to pass, she turned and froze. Their eyes met and the most unlikely thing happened. Brienne’s thick and plush lips widened in a smile, revealing a row of big horsey teeth, which was making her unsightly face even more ugly, Jaime decided. Except for the eyes. She did have astonishing eyes.

Jaime quickened his steps, reminding himself that there were more important duties ahead than watching Wench stumbling with the sword although there was no doubt that soon even she would be able to beat him as well. The thought made him smile. Losing to her sword would be definitely less humiliating than to her bare fists. He wondered if she continued to practice her peculiar fighting style, consisting of punches and kicks, which she always was so reluctant to talk about. Would she be there as she used to before the incident? He hoped not. But he never went to check.

*

The investigation of the assault met a dead end. Although all the involved bandits were already dead, Jaime still couldn’t find peace because of it. The longer he thought about it the harder it was to believe that it was just a random incident. And whoever gave the order, was still free, probably waiting for another opportunity to finish the failed task.

And whoever it was, he was great at hiding the trails and evidence and removing the witnesses. 

It was not possible that no one knows anything , Jaime thought one late evening after returning from sparring with Ilyn Payne. That was a better day than all the previous. He finally managed to block every third swing and took way less hits to his body. 

He went out to the balcony with a glass of wine in his clumsy left hand. 

The cool fresh air caressed his soaked shirt and hair. How can such a night be beautiful? he asked himself looking up. Why would the stars want to look down on such as me? How did the boy dreaming of valour and honour become the most hated and despicable man of the realm? What happened to that boy? He joined the Kingsguard and soiled the white cloak put on him or was it the white cloak that soiled him? 

I did this for love, Jaime repeated once again just as he did for all these years. Only this time the words were just as empty as his right wrist. Never before had Jaime felt so utterly alone. Was he worthless without a hand? He was that hand. Once. Who was he now without it?

It is up to you. Whatever you choose to do. 

Jaime shook his head at the memory of those ridiculously blue eyes staring at him full of admiration.

“Whatever I choose to do,” Jaime said to himself and finished his glass, the sour liquid burning his throat. He needed to fix the mess, there was no way he would let it go. Whoever stood behind it, would pay his price. 

Someone must know something, Jaime retrieved a dagger with a simple hilt adorned just with one single sapphire, he got as a gift a long time ago. And with hand or not I’m going to get to this.

*

“My decision is final,” Jaime repeated for the third time but Joffrey and Cersei didn't seem to get that he meant every word. They both came to his study almost immediately after the Small Council finished its meeting and the decision was announced. He was ready for the confrontation yet it turned out to be more aggravating and tiresome than he expected.

“Father, you can't make me-”

“I can and I do. The Council and the Lord Hand supported the decision.”

“I won't go anywhere. Especially not to some abandoned rock on the sea.”

“You wanted to take more responsibilities and prove yourself capable of ruling. Then prove you are worthy of being the Prince. Prove that you are able to manage the land before you take care of Seven Kingdoms. Gain knowledge and experience. I'll send trusted people with you to give their guidance and counsel. Listen to their advice and learn to make your own decisions. Dragonstone is your opportunity.”

“It's more like the opportunity to get rid of me, isn't it, father?” Joffrey sneered, narrowing his eyes.

“Joffrey, leave us.” Cersei, who stood still during the whole exchange, said in the most commanding voice.

“But mother, you can't let him-”

“I said leave us.”

The boy reluctantly did as he was bid, throwing Jaime the most poisonous look. 

When the door closed after him, Jaime turned to his sister.

“I'm not going to change my mind about it.” I know.

“Where does this decision come from? Did father persuade you to do this? He always hated us and our children.”

“No, father has nothing to do with it. It was my decision.”

“Yours? And you didn't think it was appropriate to seek my advice about this matter? I am the Queen and Joffrey's mother.”

“And I listened to your advice. It was you who insisted on giving Joffrey a more important role.”

“Yes, to put him in charge, not to send him away. Can't you grasp this tiny difference?” 

Jaime didn't answer, choosing to turn away from her but Cersei was faster. She blocked his way, her slender body touching his and her delicate hands cupping his face.

“Jaime, don't separate me from my son,” Cersei said in her the sweetest of her voice. “I won't be able to bear it. Don't do this to me, don't do this to us.” 

Jaime closed his eyes. In this moment of weakness, he allowed himself to enjoy that little caress while his sister continued to murmur her honeyed words.

“We are meant to always be together. You and I. One soul in two bodies. And our children, the extension of us and our love. Don't ruin it, Jaime, my sweet brother, my lover, my knight.”

Not a useless cripple anymore? Jaime's eyes snapped open. 

“Do you even love me, Cersei?” The words came out hoarse and rugged.

“I do. I love you, Jaime.” Cersei pressed her body even closer to his. Her full breast in a tightly laced crimson corset rubbed his chest. “Let me prove it to you.”

Her hand travelled down and undid his breeches. Jaime felt his cock reacting to her touch. 

“No.” He caught her wrist. 

“No?” 

“No. Not like this. Come to me when you want me , not when you're asking me for something.”

“Are you rejecting me and my love?”

“No. Do it if you want to. Suck my cock or give me your sweet cunt. But Joffrey will go, there is nothing you can do about it except for joining him if the thought of separation is unbearable for you.” I know you had covered for him. 

The confusion passed in her green eyes but was quickly replaced by anger. 

“How could I ever want such a pathetic coward fearing for his crown more than for the happiness of his son? Very well. Try to hold onto your power while you still can.”

“Go away, Cersei. You're making me angry.”

“Oh, an angry cripple. How terrifying.” She moved to the door. “It seems like they cut your manhood along with your hand. And speaking of such, best tuck your cock away, brother. It looks rather sad and small, hanging from your breaches like that.”

The door slammed behind her, leaving Jaime alone and stumbling with the laces. Before he was done, there was a knock to the door. Cursing at tangled laces, Jaime sat beside his desk and only then gave permission to enter.

“Your Grace” Peck gave him a small bow. “There is an armourer waiting for the audience. He said he has commissioned the thing you requested.”

“Very well, let him in.”

A few moments later, a man in his middle age with wide strong arms and no hair on his head, entered the king's study. He uncertainty bowed, clutching tightly a material bag under his arm.

“Glad to see you so soon, Mott. Take a seat.” Jaime pointed to a chair with his left hand. “Peck, pour some wine for our guest.”

The squire immediately went to carry out the order while the smith uncomfortably sat at the edge of the chair.

“Show what you have for me.”

“Everything as you ordered. Allow me to present you, Your Grace.” Only after receiving a nod, Tobho Mott put the bundle on the desk and unwrapped the fabric to reveal a hand wrought of gold, very lifelike, with inlaid nails of mother-of-pearl, its fingers and thumb half closed so as to slip around a goblet's stem. 

“Would Your Grace be willing to try it on?”

“It's not here to lay on the table and look pretty.” Jaime stretched his stump covered with a silk cap. 

Without another word the armourer fitted the hand and started tightening the leather straps that bound it to Jaime's stump. 

“Does it feel right?”

“No better than my flesh hand did.”

Jaime raised his newly attached hand and made several testing moves. The damn thing was heavy, uncomfortable and unbalanced. I cannot fight, but I can drink , Jaime reflected as he slowly tried to catch a goblet between bent unmoving fingers and brought it to his lips.

“Good work, Mott. You will be paid generously for your efforts.”

“Thank you. Men shall name you Goldenhand from this day forth, Your Grace.”

Jaime froze. 

“What did you say?”

Confused, Tobho Mott repeated the last phrase but there was only one word that Jaime heard. He quickly dismissed the armourer and turned to Peck. 

“Bring Lady Brienne here. Now.”

As the young squire disappeared behind the door, Jaime couldn't contain his emotions for any longer. It can't be, he kept pacing circles around his study, his hand running through his hair. She couldn't know. 

But if she did… Jaime remembered the first meeting in the training yard where they clashed their swords and she cursed his hateful name, then unexpected defence at the market and the training yard again. She had lost her memories and skills, Jaime thought then but something didn’t add up in this story.  He is Goldenhand the Just, honourable, respected man with a good heart! Did the king learn to fight with one hand so well? He recalled her words and the night at the terrace and her holding gently the hand he no longer had. It can't be…

The door opened and Brienne entered the study. Noticing Jaime's curt nod, Peck discretely stepped out of the chamber, leaving the two of them alone.

“Jaime, you wanted to see me.” 

“Come closer.”

The tiny smile adorning her lips fell.

“Did something happen?” She took a short glimpse of his unlaced breeches and then her eyes fell on the hand attached to his right wrist. “Oh…”

“Did you see something familiar?”

The Wench didn't answer, staring stupidly at his new hand. Only when Jaime came so close that her breath warmed his cheek, she raised her eyes to meet his. 

 “Don't you have something to tell me?” Jaime hissed, watching her flinch at the sudden anger he couldn't be bothered to hide. “Who are you?”

“What do you mean? I don't understand.”

“Don't you dare to lie to me. I'm sick of all those lies around me. I'll ask you again who the hell are you? What are you doing? What is your goal?” 

Every question he was making Brienne step back until her back pressed to the stone wall.

“Jaime, I don't-”

“Answer the damn questions!”

His golden hand smacked the wall beside her head, sending a wave of blinding pain through his whole arm. 

“Fucking Goldenhand the Just, am I not?” He shoved his right hand for her to better see. “Were you involved in this? Did you lure me into this trap?”

“No, I didn't… I would never-”

“Wouldn't you? You hated me more than anyone else and threw it directly to my face. The Kingslayer, oathbreaker, shit for honour, vile and disgusting. All the words said by you.” 

“No, I would never say that to you. It had to be before… before the accident. I have no memory of that time. You can't hold against me something I don't even remember.”

Jaime laughed, ragged and sharp.

“Bullshit. You have memories, Wench. Sometimes you forget and talk about your past. All the things you told me of your brother and sisters. The way you said it… Those are your memories, aren't they?”

“No, it was… it was just…”

“Even if there was no accident, Lady Brienne has no right to have such memories.” Jaime watched her eyes. “But you do. You remember something that has never happened and you know things you should never have known unless you were involved in this.”

She leaned away from him, almost fusing with the wall. Even being taller than him, Jaime felt like he was towering over her. 

“How did you know about Goldenhand at the market?” Jaime continued, insensitive to a single tear running down her cheek. “Why did you ask if I learned to fight with one hand? Why did you hold my damned hand?” 

“Jaime, please… Don't ask. You won't understand…”

“So you admit it. That you are not Lady Brienne you want everyone to believe.”

She silently shook her head, either in confirmation of his guess or in denial, Jaime didn’t care as the question was burning in his mind.

“Who are you then, Wench?”

Chapter Text

“Who are you then, Wench?”

The question was burning in the king's eyes, sharp and desperate for an answer, piercing through her like a newly sharpened sword.

Brienne swallowed. She needed to come up with something. And do it fast. She needed a lie that would be believable enough to deflect all his accusations and keep her secret safe.

“I… I…” 

“I’m listening,” Jaime growled impatiently.

“I…” She tried again but the words failed her. Her mind was completely blank, unable to form any coherent thought and transfer it to her rigid tongue.

“You?”

“I'll tell you everything,” Brienne whispered. She could not bear his heated look any longer. “Just… I… Let's just sit down.”

Jaime stepped aside. On limp legs, Brienne reached the nearest chair, while he went to a tiny table in the corner and a moment later he handed her a goblet of wine. 

“Well?” Jaime said when she emptied it in two large gulps. 

“You probably need to sit down as well.”

“Anything else?” A mocking smile twisted his lips. “Any other demands?”

“No.” Don’t take me as a complete lunatic.

“Go on then.”

Brienne took a deep breath, her heart was racing frantically in her chest. She didn't know what to say and how to begin. Whatever she said, it would sound ridiculous and utterly unbelievable. Or just completely not convincing, no matter if she chose to tell the truth or lie.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“I don’t know where to begin.”

“From the start. Who are you?” 

With no lie available in her mind, what other choice did she have but to tell the truth? Fear does not exist in you. She looked directly into his eyes.

“My name is Brienne Tarth. I was born in Storm’s End in 1395 After Conquest. I lived there with my family: mum, dad, my brother Galladon and my sisters Alysanne and Arianne until the accident at the lake. I was rescuing my brother but suddenly I found myself under the water. Something pulled me down. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t fight it. The last thing I saw was a total eclipse. There was nothing… And then I woke up in Evenfall Hall as Lady Brienne of Tarth, daughter of Lord Selwyn.”

Not once did she drop her gaze from his face during this little speech. She saw the disbelief, the confusion and anger twisting his features all at once. 

“Are you mocking me?” He spat. “Is it a jest for you? Or some sort of revenge?”

“No, Jaime. None of those things. I'd never.”

“You want me to believe in this ridiculous tale?”

“You wanted the truth so it was.”

“You have gone completely mad.”

The silence between them was heavy as it never was before, urging Brienne to somehow break it and relieve the weight that so suddenly fell upon her.

“I question my sanity every day since I ended up here, asking myself if I really have gone mad. How could I travel over a thousand years back? I thought it was not possible. But here I am, pretending to be someone I am not. You're right about this one thing that I am not Lady Brienne of Tarth but so wrong about the rest. I don't hate you, I'm not mocking you, I have no reason for revenge. I'm just trying my best to survive in a world I've never known.”

He gaped at her with an open mouth like a fish brutally taken out of water.

“Jaime?” 

The tentative call of his name instantly snapped him out of whatever stupor that overtook him. 

“Leave me. I need to be alone.”

“Jaime…”

“Just leave, Brienne. Is it too hard to understand?”

Without another word she moved to the door, cursing herself for being so naive and trusting him with the truth. What else did she expect? That he would believe her on a spot? She wouldn't believe herself if she heard such a story. It could have gone worse. He could have thrown me into prison or something. Brienne tried to comfort herself but the days passed and his rejection still hurt. Even if they stopped seeing each other regularly as they used to, greeting him with a smile during the morning practice and receiving one in return was a highlight of her day. The world was brighter whenever Jaime was entering the training yard and lighting it with his golden presence like another sun.

And then he was not there anymore and Brienne couldn’t prevent the sharp feeling of loss stabbing her heart every time she turned at the sound of someone’s steps only to discover it was not him. 

However, Jaime’s resolution to not see her didn’t last that long as after a week, one morning on her way to the training yard, Brienne was intercepted by Peck who delivered the message that the king wanted to see her. Immediately. Without a chance to refuse, yet again he guided her through the tiny, almost invisible door that led outside the city walls.

“You know the further way,” he said at the spot where Jaime met them the last time and alone, Brienne went in the direction of the secluded beach.

Jaime was already there, wearing his casual red leather jacket and brown breeches. The golden hand was attached to his wrist. He noticed her presence immediately as she set foot on the sand. Brienne stilled, waiting for him to say something.

“So you're Brienne.” He began, stepping closer. “From a different world.” 

She nodded.

“How?”

“I don't know. I was trying to figure it out myself but yet without success.”

“What about Lady Brienne?” He ran his hand through his hair. “The one that was here before. Where is she?”

“Physically, she is here. It's her body…” Brienne admitted, the whole subject of the exchange was still making her uncomfortable even if she slowly started to view the differences she saw in the mirror as hers. “But it is me inside if it makes any sense.”

“It doesn't.”

There was no answer to that so she stayed silent as well, watching the tips of her boots peeking out of the hem of her skirt and listening to heavy sighs coming from Jaime who was probably still processing everything she said.

“The whole week, day and night, I tried to come up with reasons to not believe any word you say. Either you are a part of some conspiracy, or a liar, or a witch, or a madwoman.” He shook his head. “Or maybe it’s me who’s gone mad because I can’t force myself to believe you could be any of those.” 

“So do you believe me then?”

“I don't know.”

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“I'm shit liar, am I not?” 

Brienne let out a quiet sigh of relief at Jaime’s sudden chuckle. 

“And for so long I have been wondering about your appalling sword fight skills.”

“Hey, I'm getting better! Or at least Ser Addam says so.” 

“I know,” the appreciation brightened his face. “I assume you were not taught it in your world.”

“No.” Brienne shook her head as the strange warm feeling flooded her chest. “Then at the market, it was the first time I have ever held a real sword. It's not common in my time. To be honest, I have never even met anyone who had the skill. No one carries swords anymore.”

“How do you defend yourself then?”

“Usually you don't have to. It is a safer place in general. But even if you needed protection, swords wouldn't do much.”

“How so?”

“There are different kinds of weapons. More effective. And easier to use.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“What for example?”

“Guns.”

He looked at her with curiosity, the tension that previously lingered around them dissipated and was gradually replaced with tentative curiosity. 

“Guns? How do they work?”

Brienne couldn’t suppress a smile. There were so many things in her world that she would love to show him. So many things that Jaime surely would find unusual and exciting. She’d love to see how he’d react if he knew about electricity, cars, planes flying high above the skyscrapers reaching the clouds, phones, photographs, movies… 

“I don’t know the exact mechanism inside,” Brienne said, only now realising that she had no idea how most of the little things, she had once thought she wouldn’t be able to live without, worked. “They are to be discovered in a few hundred years.”

“Or maybe sooner.”

“No, I don’t want that. I'm afraid how it might affect the chain of future events.”

“And what if you’ve done it already?”

“Then let’s not make it worse.”

Jaime ran a hand through his hair as his eyes stopped at his unmoving gold fingers.

“Is there anything else I’d like to know? Any other limbs I’m going to lose? My head? Or maybe my cock?”

“Jaime!” Brienne exclaimed, not sure if it was a protest against his crudeness or the image of his cock that settled in her mind since she had caught the glimpse of his unlaced breeches.

“What? I should know. Do you think a golden cock will be more pleasing to have than a hand?”

“Don’t worry, your other parts will be fine.” Brienne felt her face getting red. 

“Are you sure about it, Wench?” 

“Totally.” You haven’t fathered the heir yet. “And don’t ask any more questions because I don’t have answers to give. Everything that happened here was over a thousand years ago and a lot of historical evidence didn’t live long enough and a lot of things were never known.”

“But not the fact that the Kingslayer was crippled,” Jaime said bitterly.

“It’s not like that at all. It’s one of the most roma- I mean heroic stories I've ever heard.” Brienne decided to omit the details about Goldenhand’s great love being the reason for his maiming in the most widely known version of the legend. There was little truth in it. There was just Brienne who was rescued and Cersei who he loved.

“Besides,” she continued, trying to steer away from the topic of Vesper. “The name Kingslayer didn’t survive until my time. I heard it only after I got here. In the future I know, you are remembered as Goldenhand the Just.”

“Did I disappoint you then? You didn't expect the oathbreaker.”

“Why did you do it? Why did you break your oath and killed the king? Everyone condemns you for it but there had to be a reason for it. Why else would you do it?”

“For power, to land my ass on that iron chair.”

“Really?”

“Is it not enough? What do you want to hear?”

“The truth.”

A smile appeared on his face but there was no joy in it. 

“It’s been seventeen years and you are the first one who asked.”

“It can’t be…”

“No one gives a shit.”

“I do.”

And then he told her then. About the former king and his growing madness. About people burnt alive and the queen, whose screams he heard while standing still outside the chamber. About the rebellion and caches of wildfire hidden under the city. Burn them all, Brienne trembled as Jaime recollected the order, burn them in their homes, burn them in their beds. His eyes were unmoving, staring at some point far away behind the horizon. The horrible images of his past were alive in his eyes.

“I ran the sword through his back and slit his throat. Then I sat on the throne, the blood was still dripping from my sword when my father entered the throne room and made me a fucking king. What?” Jaime turned to her when she failed to utter a single word since he started his tale. “Did my tale make you speechless? Come on, curse or kiss me, or call me a liar. Something!”

He was shaking, his voice and his body, like he was in a fever or in a cold. So Brienne did the only thing that came to her mind. She leaned in and wrapped her arms around him, bringing him closer into her embrace.

“What are you doing?”

“Mum used to say it always works.” And it did.

Jaime gasped but a second later his head rested on her shoulder and his hands, flesh and golden, tentatively sneaked behind her, reciprocating the embrace.

The sun was almost at the highest spot in the sky and they still sat there, reluctant to break away. It was good, it was calm, Brienne thought, taking a deep breath filled with the salty scent of the sea and something else. Something musky and fresh at the same time. Golden and gentle….

“Jaime, that was a brave thing to do,” she whispered in his ear. “To sacrifice your honour for the lives of so many innocent people.”

He slowly retreated, his gaze met her eyes.

“But still, I broke my oath and I never regret it for a second.”

“I think it takes more courage and honour to break a vow than to blindly follow it.” 

“Brienne…” he breathed out, the tiny smile he tried to prevent tugged his lips. But then his face stilled and the seriousness took over his eyes. “Speaking of vows, tomorrow your father and all the other Stormland lords will pledge their fealty to the crown. You will be free to leave after that.”

A stifled oh was the only answer that escaped from her open mouth.

“Don't look at me like this, Wench. I can't keep you here forever.”

“I know,” she nodded.

“Do you miss your home?”

“I do.  My real home, not the Evenfall Hall.My mum and dad, my brother and sisters. I’ve never been away from them for so long. They must be so worried…” The thick lump in her throat made the next words rugged and shaky. “I used to think I was alone there. I didn’t value my family, I took their presence for granted. I hated it so much, when my sisters were going out somewhere, I was annoyed when mum would encourage me to open up and I was angry when dad and Gal asked me if everything was alright. I craved friendship, you know, the kind they describe in the books and show in the movies. I wanted validation from people who had no interest in giving it.” Brienne let out a deep sigh. “And now, it's so different to not have my family around, so...”

“Lonely?” Jaime said quietly. 

She turned to meet his eyes.

“Yes and no. Right now I’m not alone. I’m with you.” Brienne let herself a little smile. “I don’t feel lonely when you’re here.”

“But would you return there if you could?” 

“I would.”

Jaime shook his head but when he spoke next there was a smile on his face again although it didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Do you think I'll let you go without sparring with me first?”

*

 As Brienne predicted, Lord Selwyn decided to leave King's Landing the same day after the ceremony, luckily taking away the possibility of another meeting with Jaime and saying a proper goodbye. Brienne was only happy about it as the thought of seeing him again was making her die inside from embarrassment. However, despite her best efforts, she couldn’t prevent an exchange of awkward looks in the throne room and noticed a tiny, almost invisible smile that touched his lips.

And then Brienne was back on Tarth, inside white marble walls of Evenfall Hall which after such a long time spent in Red Keep seemed to be too small, too calm and quiet. Time was passing slower, stretching over the duties of a lady of the castle, long walks around the island to avoid septa Roelle as much as possible, idle chatter with Ellie who was incredibly excited to hear everything of what happened in the city and meals with father and all the other people who decided to visit them.

The most enjoyable parts of the day turned out to be training sessions with Ser Goodwin. He was delighted to see her back even if he claimed her skill still was not a match to the one she had before the accident. Brienne tried her best to be as good as Lady Brienne once was and judging by the curt nods of approval and smiles every time she managed to learn a new move, she was on a good way to achieve that.

Unfortunately, the other training didn't go as well. Brienne still sneaked out every night to practise the kicks and hits but it didn't bring her as much joy as it used to once when she could spar with others, watch Coach Tarly trying to show off a move he was able to perform twenty years ago or just to listen to his snappy comments or creative tips for improvement. It wasn't so bad in King's Landing. She had Jaime with her every night. And as much as she disliked his company then, finding it utterly annoying and distracting, now she missed his jokes, teasing and endless questions about the fighting style she performed. She missed him. She thought about him every time she took a sword in her hand, not able to prevent a smile remembering their first duel. She dreamt about their last one on a secluded beach, the memories of the droplets of sweat running down his neck and wide chest were making her cheeks burn. Stop it, she was telling herself whenever her imagination lingered too long on his full lips or travelled down his broad shoulders and taut muscles of his abdomen. Yes, he is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen but he is also the king with a sister-wife and children. And he is my friend…

“Lady Brienne, here you are.” Maester Volden found her sitting on the stone bench in the furthest corner of the garden, completely immersed in thoughts and memories. “You have chosen a very peaceful spot, yet quite a remote one I must say.”

“Please, sit down, Maester. I would gladly visit you in your offi- I mean study, had you sent for me.”

“A nice little walk will do some good to move the old bones,” Maester smiled, taking the offered seat. “How are you feeling, my lady?”

“I am well. There is nothing to worry about.”

“Yes, your injuries have healed indeed. But I'm still concerned about the state of your memory. Is there any improvement?”

There will never be as long as I'm here. 

“I'm sorry, Maester. There was nothing.”

“Not even tiny glimmers? Completely nothing?”

Brienne shook her head avoiding his light blue astute eyes.

“That is unexpected. I've written to the Citadel, asking more knowledgeable and experienced maesters for advice and they claimed there should be some signs of recovery by now. I guess every patient is a special case and there is no general rule applied to everyone,” he sighed.

“Probably you're right,” Brienne mumbled when the sudden idea came to her mind. “Do maesters have any knowledge about astronomy?”

“Yes, we study the movements of stars. There is much you can learn about the movements of our world by staring at the night sky. Why are you asking? Is it of any interest to you?”

“I… Probably. I was just wondering if I could read something about it. I never saw any books related to this topic in our library.”

“It is not a very widespread topic of study. The books you are asking for are quite unique, the only known  copies remain in Citadel, even the Red Keep doesn't have them.”

“Is there any way to get them?”

“You would have to go to Old Town and request permission from the Grand Maester which I don't believe would be freely given to a lady.”

“Of course,” Brienne agreed, completely dejected. It was her last idea to find out something about the accident.

“I could write and ask if you really are interested in this topic but I can't promise you anything.”

“It's alright. Thank you, maester.” Brienne tried to summon a smile.

“It’s not worth getting upset about, my lady. In the meantime, you can occupy yourself with something else to read. That is actually the reason I was looking for you.” Maester Volden reached inside the wide sleeve of his brown robe and retrieved a folded parchment. “A letter for you came this morning.”

“A letter for me? From whom?”

“It came from King's Landing. I don't know, I didn't open it.” 

He handed her the scroll.

“Have a nice evening, my lady,” he smiled and slowly walked towards the castle.

Brienne examined the parchment in her hand. The paper was yellowish, thick and rough, nothing like the smooth thin white sheets Brienne was used to writing on. Rolled into a scroll and sealed with a dark red wax guarding the content of whatever letter that might have been written to her. It easily broke under her fingers with a quiet cracking sound, freeing the ends of tightly folded parchment. 

Her eyes fell on merely a few lines of atrocious scrawl and Brienne froze. She has already seen those big crooked letters that could be written by a child who took a pen for the first time in its clumsy hand. She has already read those words before. Many times. Through the thick bulletproof glass. 

My travelling lady of a distant unknown world, the first line squeezed her racing heart. The letters danced in her eyes as she continued. 

My travelling lady of a distant unknown world,

I hope you will still be here when this letter finds you so you could tell me you are well and you don’t miss the Red Keep much. I planned to make sure myself but your father’s agility and haste in taking the escape route deprived me of such possibility. And to spar with you for the last time. For the last few days, Payne does his best beating me, though he lacks your kindness and grace in doing so. I eagerly await the day we cross our swords again.

J

Jaime. Jaime wrote a letter to her. To Brienne. The one that she has already read over a thousand years into the future. It didn’t make any sense. It couldn’t be. Yet she recognized the parchment, the peculiar letters and even the shape of the stains.

On wobbly legs, Brienne returned to her chamber and hid the letter in a drawer of her desk hoping it was just the illusion created by her wishful thinking. But the letter was still there the next day and the words were still the same. Was it a joke at her expense? No, it couldn't be. There was no way Jaime knew about the exhibition of Evenfall Hall museum regarding the times of Goldenhand the Just and its most valuable artefacts- letters written by the king himself to a mysterious woman, his great love Vesper. 

To Brienne. 

The whole day her heart was battling with her mind, in the end deciding it was a pointless argument and the only thing she could do was to write a reply. No matter how the historians would interpret this small piece of parchment in a thousand years, Jaime was there in King’s Landing now, waiting for a word from her.

The next morning, for the first time Brienne requested writing supplies to be brought to her chamber. She was sitting beside her desk, nervously twisting her hands, when Ellie put a set of parchment, quills and ink in front of her.

“Thank you. You are free to go now.” 

After being left alone, Brienne started to write. It took her almost the whole morning of staring at the blank sheet and then figuring out the best way of handling a quill and ink to transfer the words on it.

It was almost lunchtime when Brienne managed to produce a short letter, full of stains, wrong words and deletions. She took a new piece of parchment and rewrote everything.

Jaime,

You surprised me greatly with your letter although I admit it was a very thoughtful and welcomed surprise. I’m well and healed. At least my body is as the maester says. He still tries to understand the mystery of my gone memory. Luckily, it does not prevent me from training with a sword. I’m getting better and I hope that I'll be a worthy opponent the next time we cross our swords. As for now, I can only dream about beating you. I know your loss greatly affected your swordsmanship but your skill and experience are still out of my reach.  

Don’t worry about not finding me here. I haven’t figured out the way home yet and every day makes me doubt that I ever will.

Brienne

She finished with a spreading stain above the letter i but it was as good as it could be with her clumsy hands. Brienne read Jaime’s letter again and critically looked at her response to it. Something was lacking, wasn’t it? She bit her lip and took the quill in her hand.

P.S. I’m sorry to disappoint you but I miss the Red Keep just a bit ;-)

Smiling, she let the ink dry and made a tight scroll. Remembering Lord Selwyn’s moves, she sealed it with a blue wax she took the day before from his own study.

* 

The next letter from Jaime came not even a week later to which she replied the same evening. 

Brienne,

Would you find me selfish to be glad that you’re still here? Even though you had to return to your dreadful island? The only consolation I find is that ravens can bring a word from you. 

Speaking of which, the white raven reached King’s Landing today, making a great commotion among the lords at Small council. Winter is coming, in a mere moment, I was surrounded by a bunch of dreary Starks. It was almost as annoying as their surprised faces every time I showed up at the council. Where else the bloody king is supposed to go? 

;-) What was your meaning? Did you want to say that you miss me?

J ;-)

Jaime,

As a Tarth, I am greatly affronted by your insult of my island. I am quite certain that you have never visited this place otherwise you’d never dare to call it dreadful ;-)

I am sorry to hear about the council situation but I hope you’ll be able to overlook your differences and work together on important matters. The news of the upcoming winter reached Tarth as well and Lord Selwyn took them quite seriously despite the fact that winter has never been very severe on our island. He insists that I should get familiar with managing the castle, villages around and the whole island. Moreover, I got in charge of entertaining the guests that are visiting us here. My protests fell on deaf ears so my days are now almost exclusively filled with duties that leave me almost no time for practising with a sword.

I didn’t want to make it sound like I am complaining (maybe just a little bit). You probably have enough of it in the council. 

I hope that apart from that you are feeling well.

Brienne

P.S. Try to figure it out, Your Grace :-D

My insufferable lady,

What kind of riddles are you giving me? What secrets are you trying to tell me? We will see how smug you are going to be when I solve them all :-D ;-)

I’ve never known Tarth to be the centre of social life but I bet you make the most gracefully frowning and sulking host. 

You won’t believe it but just the other day…

Letters were coming regularly, every week or even twice a week if Jaime was not patient enough to wait for her response. Soon the drawer was full of tightly folded parchments that spoke about Jaime’s days, his struggles in the training yard and his attempts to control and rule notoriously fractious council and deal with constantly plotting court. Brienne replied to every single one of them, sharing her days, thoughts, joys and woes, offering him consolation and advice. 

“Brienne, are you listening?”

“What?” Brienne looked up from her plate and turned to her father. “Were you saying something?”

“I asked you three times if you are ready for the upcoming feast?”

“Ehh, yes, I guess. I mean… I think everything is…” Brienne mumbled, pressuring her foggy brain to come up with any sensible response. “I’m sorry but what feast are we talking about?”

“What is going on with you, Brienne?”

“Nothing, I’m totally fine. I just got distracted. I’m sorry.”

“Lately I have an impression that your mind is hardly here.”

“No, it’s really nothing…”

“Brienne, as much as my heart rejoices in seeing you happy, smiling and singing, I’d also want you to pay a bit more attention to what is going on around you.”

She sat silent, not daring to raise her eyes from the wooden table in fear that Lord Selwyn would read the truth in them. The truth was that her thoughts were far away, disinterested in any feast or domestic affairs. Instead of planning the great event in Evenfall Hall, she was thinking of the things she wanted to write down on rough parchment, choosing the right words and sentences.

“It’s a serious matter, Brienne,” Lord Selwyn continued, “we will be guesting our liege lord and this is of the greatest importance to have everything go smoothly and without any problems.”

“Yes, I understand.” Brienne nodded and repeated the words septa Roelle tried so hard to ingrain in her head. “I’ll try my best to not bring shame upon our house.”

“Lord Renly will come as well,” Lord Selwyn said after a short pause, giving her an assessing look.

“That’s good, I guess,” Brienne summoned a polite smile, not sure what kind of reaction was expected from her. “Should this information be important somehow to me?”

Lord Selwyn shifted in his seat.

“You probably don’t remember… But back in the day, you were very fond of Lord Renly. He visited us once, we threw a feast, you danced together...”

“And?” Brienne didn’t like where this was going.

“He would be a very beneficial match for you. If you are still fond of each other and Robert agrees…”

“Is this the reason for this visit? To set a match for me?” 

“There are many other issues I need to settle with Robert but if we managed to secure this match-”

“No. I don’t even know this Renly. There is no way I’m going to marry him.”

“Brienne-”

“No.”

“Is there someone else?” The sudden question took her breath away. Could Lord Selwyn suspect something?

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Brienne stood abruptly and left the dining hall. She returned to her room after dusk, with her muscles aching from swinging a sword and her heart full of sorrow. The quill in her hand was shaking as she started to write down everything that felt like a fork twisting in her insides but in the middle of the sentence, she suddenly stopped.

It’s not fair to burden Jaime with this, Brienne thought watching the ink stain spreading on a parchment. He’s going through so much right now. 

Although he never stated it directly, sometimes there were occasional comments alluding to further estrangement with his family, especially his sister and son, that usually sneaked between the jokes or light-hearted teasing. When Brienne was rereading them in the dim light of a candle beside her bed, she couldn’t stop the sadness stinging at her heart over the immense feeling of loneliness peeking from between the lines. Every night before going to sleep she was promising herself to be there for him and then she was falling asleep with parchments under her pillow and dreaming about the meadows and white sanded beaches of Tarth, about the rays of sun reflecting in Jaime’s golden hair and a wide smile on his face and a sword in his hands. He always laughed and his eyes shone with merriment and amusement until he was catching her into his arms, burning her with his touch and passion in his eyes. He was pressing her closer, the taut muscles of his body being the only anchor for her weak knees as his perfect lips leaned in almost touching hers.

He never kissed her. Brienne always woke up before, hot and bothered, with her hand itching to go lower under the sheets and bring relief to her yearning body. Stop it, she was trying to even her breathing, Jaime is my friend. He will never look at me the other way.

A deep sigh escaped her lips as the memory of their last private encounter came to her mind. They fought, both far from good fighters, Jaime struggling with wrong instincts and Brienne making the mistakes only a novice would. When Jaime finally managed to get rid of the sword from her hand, they both were sweaty and panting. Brienne wasn’t sure how he provoked another fight. Without any swords that time, Brienne quickly, after several accurate hits and one kick, sent him to the ground. They rolled together in the sand, panting and laughing, trying to get control over the other until Brienne straddled him, blocking his hands, the flesh and the gold, over his head. 

Brienne could still remember the feel of his body under hers and the awed look in his eyes, which involuntarily made her own face lean closer to his. His breath was hot on her cheek and his lips were so full and enticing… Brienne would probably kiss him, had he not thrown her off him and faced away from her. The silence after that was the most embarrassing moment in her life. She mumbled her apology and after a few long minutes, Jaime acted as if nothing happened. 

He would never look at me this way.

This was the truth no matter what world she lived in. She wasn’t pretty and attractive. No matter what Ari and Alys did, the clothes, the hair and make-up, Brienne’s lacks in appearance were too great to compensate with her personality. Her feelings and affections were never reciprocated. None of them even looked in her direction. Only then Brienne wondered if it would be any different if she was smaller and more beautiful.

Even if I was, it wouldn’t matter. He has his sister and their children. They will mend their differences and they will be happy. And I will end up married to someone I don’t even know.

The prospect filled her with dread but Brienne wasn’t willing to let it dictate her life. Fear does not exist in you, does it?

No. 

She got up the next morning and proceeded with her everyday routine. Morning training, breakfast, preparations for the feast, the last fitting of her dreadful dress because septa Roelle refused to incorporate any changes Brienne proposed as being completely inappropriate for a lady.

Around noon, the ship under black and yellow sails arrived at the Tarth port. Brienne together with Lord Selwyn greeted a big rowdy man with a mane of black hair and a thick beard of the same colour. The man at his side was the copy of the first one, only twenty years younger, tall, impressive and handsome, with black hair and piercing blue eyes which made Brienne blush when they met with hers.

The formalities and greetings were exchanged and the party swiftly moved to the castle where their guests were given a chance to rest and refresh before the upcoming feast. For the entire journey, however short it was, Brienre could feel the weight of Lord Selwyn's expectations on her shoulders. She sat stiffly on her horse's back, trying her best to entertain Lord Renly with conversation. As pathetic as her attempts were, she silently thanked the gods that it wasn't Lord Robert at her side. Courteous smiles and not so well hidden smirks were much easier to handle than vulgar and downright rude jokes of his older brother. 

The rest of the day Brienne spent making sure everything was ready for the feast, countless barrels of wine and ale, boars were slowly roasting over the fire and other delicious looking food was being prepared by the group of cooks and kitchen maids. After giving the last dispositions, Brienne returned to her chambers where another group of maids under the supervision of septa Roelle was waiting for her. Tuning out the shrill voice of the old crone, surely berating her for something or giving another lecture of proper behaviour, Brienne allowed the maids to lead her to the steaming bath. Her body soaked in hot water and a flowery scent filled her senses as two pairs of hands started scrubbing her back and washing her hair.

When they were done with both, the long and tedious process of packing Brienne into her gown began. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine it was just a party she was preparing for with her sisters. Ari would pick up clothes for us, Alys would call them too extravagant and go for simple black trousers and a comfortable purple top, ignoring her twin's snide comments about her horrible style. Brienne would later braid her waist-long hair, while Ari would take care of their make-up later. Then mum would come and tell them how beautiful daughters she has and dad would joke about preparing for the suitors to line up. 

“Stop crying, the lacing is not even that tight. You'll make the paint look like dirt on your face.” Roelle's harsh voice made Brienne realise a single tear was running down her cheek.

“So what? It doesn't make me any prettier anyway.” 

“It doesn't,” the old woman agreed. “But you don't want Lord Paramount and his brother to think you are a slob. This is not how a lady should present herself, even with such looks as yours.” 

Brienne looked the woman into her eyes, cold and grey. There wasn't even a whit of warmth her mum had in the eyes of the woman who spent almost twenty years raising and teaching a girl who lost her mother and all siblings at such a young age. 

“It's been almost two years, Roelle, since I got to know you and almost twenty since you know me. You should have already gotten used to my ugly face, shouldn’t you? Why does it still offend you so much?” 

“Lady Brienne, I'm just tr-”

“I don't care how you choose to justify it. I've had enough. Don't try to talk to me anymore.”

“Your father will hear of it.”

“Good. He should have. A long time ago.” Brienne stood from a chair. Now she was looking down at the woman. “You know what? Just seeing you I consider my looks a blessing that it so easily exposes people like you.”

Without waiting for a reaction, Brienne left for the feast. The hall was full, their guests already sat beside the table bending under the weight of food and maids were standing behind them with pitchers of wine, watching closely to not let the cups ever get empty.

Brienne took her place beside Lord Selwyn.

“What delayed you so much?”

“I’m sorry. Nothing of importance.” You’ll hear about it later, she added quietly, summoning a little smile.

“Remember what I told you yesterday,” Lord Selwyn shot her a meaningful look and discretely cocked his head toward Lord Renly. “Do not let me down, Brienne.”

She barely kept a scowl from appearing on her face. The expectations put on her felt so rubble of rocks that unexpectedly fell down on her. She was expected to marry. As a woman of twenty, she was considered an old maid, most other women in her place would have already been married off to any men willing to take them or their lands and claims, with a few children at their sides. Luckily no one ever wanted me, Brienne would have never thought that one day she would be so grateful for her homely face and Lady Brienne’s superior sword skills that chased away that one old suitor. 

But Lord Renly wasn’t old. On the contrary, he was everything a girl could ever want. Handsome, charming, attentive, laughing, kind. Only he was not Jaime Lannister. For the whole evening, Brienne could hardly find any fault in him that would make him ineligible. Lady Brienne fancied him, she remembered the conversation with Lord Selwyn, maybe even loved him. Did he return her affection? Brienne wondered as the feast was going on, new food was brought on tables, new barrels of wine opened and the musicians were running out of new songs to play. She tried to have a good time, despite the dark thoughts clouding her mind. It wasn’t so terrible after all. Nothing compared to the feast she endured in King’s Landing, where struggled to comprehend that her secret friend Jaime was in fact Goldenhand the Just who in turn was the complete opposite of the man she knew, only to be publicly humiliated by his son born of an incestuous relationship with his sister. 

Lost in memories of the horrible night of realisations, Brienne almost missed Lord Renly asking her for a dance. Unable to find any excuse under Lord Selwyn’s meaningful gaze, she agreed and allowed herself to be led to the centre of the hall, ignoring the muffled giggles that followed them.

“Do you remember our first dance in this hall, my lady?” Lord Renly asked after they started stumbling for her not knowing the sequence of steps.

“No, I’m sorry… the accident…” Brienne mumbled incoherently, trying to catch the rhythm. She felt her cheeks heating from embarrassment. 

“Follow my lead,” Renly smiled, tightening the hold on her. And Brienne did. They danced almost smoothly until the song ended. Lord Renly entertained her with witty comments to which she mostly smiled or replied with single words, not sure how she should behave. Lady Brienne would have been overjoyed but Brienne found it difficult to feel the same staring in Renly’s blue eyes.

The first dance was followed by others, trying to take the example from the liege lord’s brother and by the end of it, Brienne could barely stand straight on her legs. When septa Roelle wasn’t looking and Lord Selwyn wasn’t paying any attention, completely engaged in preventing Lord Robert from falling from his chair or spilling the flagon of wine all over the table, Brienne slipped quietly from the hall. She decided against returning to her room right then. That would probably be the first location septa Roelle was going to check if she decided to bring her back to the feast. Walking outside without a thick shawl or coat was not an option anymore since the nights were becoming gradually colder. Winter was coming. So Brienne went to the only place that could offer her some peace and silence after the noise of the feast.

Just as she expected the library was dark and empty. Not bothering to light the candles she went between the shelves until she reached a wide window seat. Comfortable and beautifully illuminated during the day, now it was dark and uninviting. Brienne sat down and hid her face in her hands. How did everything become so complicated? Travelling back in time, unsuccessful attempt to go back, figuring out her new life, forming a friendship with Jaime who turned out to be a legendary king. The assault and the rescue that cost him a hand. The painful recovery, the training and his discovery. 

So many things happen during those two years, much more than through eighteen years of her previous life. And now, on top of everything, there was marriage waiting for her with someone she didn't even know. With someone, she didn't love.

Brienne sighed. She was about to return when the door to the library opened with a quiet squeak and two people with a candle entered. 

“It should be safe here. I believe you wanted to discuss something that should not be brought up tomorrow at the official meeting.”

Lord Selwyn, Brienne recognized the voice. She quietly moved to hide in the shadow behind the massive bookshelves. It would do no good if her presence was discovered. 

“And you are right, Lord Selwyn. And here I feel I need to excuse my brother. Robert tends to get carried away at such grand feasts. Take it as a compliment to your hospitality.” 

“I hope it won’t affect Lord Robert tomorrow.”

“You have nothing to worry about. If he has reached his chamber by himself, then a few hours of sleep will make him fresh as a daisy” Lord Renly gave a little chuckle and Brienne moved further away to not be caught in the dim light of a candle. 

As they reached the table, Lord Selwyn took out a parchment from under his jerkin and handed it to Lord Renly. The younger man leaned closer to the flame.

“You did exceedingly well, Lord Selwyn. If you could really deliver those men…”

“The best archers, supplies and ships. Everything as we agreed as long as you keep your part of the bargain.”

“We keep our word and will honour our promise the moment Robert takes the throne and I will be named the Lord of Storm's End and your daughter becomes my Lady. If she’ll have me, of course, as it seemed to me that I lost her favour.”

“You are mistaken, my lord. While it is true that she wasn’t quite herself and still has troubles remembering the past, her affection for you remains the same. She just needs time to get used to this and I’ll make sure she’ll be prepared for it when the time comes. What about your brother Stannis? Wouldn’t he oppose giving you the Storm's End?” 

“Stannis is the last person anyone would like to see as a Lord of Storm’s End and the only one who doesn’t realise it. I’m making sure Robert will remember it when the time comes. I will not be robbed of something that should be mine.”

Brienne barely suppressed the gasp. Did Lord Selwyn just trade her like a simple mare? Her knees almost gave up under the wave of chilling resentment toward the man who was supposed to be her father in this world.

The conversation continued. They discussed some strategies and tactics that Brienne didn’t quite understand yet tried her best to remember as much as possible. 

“Do you believe we would be able to take King's Landing before the winter starts?” 

“It all depends on the negotiations with the Tyrells. They are still undecided, they won’t make any move that would put them at risk if the outcome won’t be in their favour and for now the position in the future Council is all that we could offer.”

“Might not be enough.” 

“I am aware. But even if they won’t actively support our cause, they will more likely stay neutral. It is enough as we will still have enough men to take King’s Landing and the advantage of surprise. They don’t expect us to make any move before winter and they won’t be able to gather the army of the West in such a short time. But when they do, it will take time to march towards King’s Landing and the Riverlands will make sure it won’t be an easy pass.” Lord Renly said and added after a pause. “And there is also the matter of the Prince.”

“So the rumour is true then?”

“Yes. The bastard is planning an uprising on his own. It’s amusing that even his own blood is so eager to take him down. He got wind of our plans and sought our support in removing the Kingslayer and putting him on a Throne.” Lord Renly quietly chuckled. “Obviously we agreed to it.”

Lord Selwyn gasped.

“Do you think he is a trustworthy ally?”

“No, he is a sleazy bastard but rather a useful one. He claims to have loyal allies inside the Red Keep but even without that, it would be beneficial to have him on our side even as a hostage. The Kingslayer he might be but even he wouldn’t want to cause the death of his firstborn son.”

They left the library shortly after that and only then Brienne’s legs gave up and she numbly sank on the floor.

Chapter Text

The pile of papers and scrolls that gathered on a desk was getting more difficult to ignore with every passing day. Jaime ran his hand through his hair. The knowledge of what was waiting for him kept him away for weeks but he couldn’t postpone it any longer, could he? 

Jaime started with the scrolls from the bottom even though he had already read most of them more than once. He needed to have a clear picture before making the decision on how to solve this problem. Yet, nothing was clear. The terrifying reports about the situation in Dragonstone sent by Lord Lefford stood in stark contrast to happy letters written by Joffrey himself. While his son bragged about the successful management of the land and great progress in collecting taxes and bringing the royal justice, Lord Lefford wrote about the minor abuse of power, which gradually turned into pillaging the lands and robbing the people of everything they had. Those who had refused ended up in dungeons and there was no return from there. The reports together with letters full of complaints from Crownlands lords were alarming but even more the fact that suddenly they stopped arriving and the party of trusted men who left for Dragonstone to investigate the situation disappeared like a stone thrown into the water.

What are you doing there, Joffrey? Jaime took a sip of wine. He wasn't sure what his next steps should be. Sending another party of trusted men didn't seem like a sensible solution, especially after the unknown fate of the first one. Going there personally also wasn't an option. There were too many things going on in King's Landing and Jaime was still too weak to take a risk of abandoning the capital. So it meant that Joffrey had to return at once with a good explanation at hand and only then the decision of his further fate would be made. 

Another sip of wine left a sour taste in Jaime's mouth. He was tired of all of this. The last few months burnt him out like summer fire does the dried grass, leaving nothing more than the bare charred ground. That was his existence now. Empty, dry, lifeless. It was never like this before. Having two hands he was a warrior. It meant power and fear, even begrudging respect for his formidable skill. Without it, he was no one, just a shell of his former self. Was I just that hand? Who am I without it? Jaime reflected watching the unmoving golden fingers. Whatever you choose to be. The bright voice told him once. Whatever I choose to be. He repeated since. 

If this torment wasn't enough, Cersei was still punishing him for sending Joffrey away. Jaime masked his anger under the mask of flippant indifference every time she ignored him, ostentatiously refusing to be in the same room. She should be glad I was merciful to him and to her as well. Anyone else would lose their head for ordering such a vile assault of an innocent together with anyone who helped to cover such a crime. Anyone but not the Heir to the Throne and the Queen, not the woman he loved and their firstborn son. Was it selfish of him to keep the knowledge of their deed a secret? Was it right to give them a second chance instead of the justice they deserved? Did it make him merciful or rather weak and equally guilty? What would Brienne say if she knew that it was Jaime's own cruel son behind the attack? Would she still be so caring and compassionate toward him? Would she still believe he is capable of becoming the paragon of justice if she knew he was unable to deliver it?

A heavy sigh involuntarily turned into a smile at the memory of blue astonishing eyes. Jaime wondered how she was faring out there. If she was still there or did she find a way to return to her home, her world which she claimed to be thousand years from now. Jaime still wasn’t sure if he believed her impossible tale but it didn’t matter when he chose to trust her with the truth he had never told anyone before. It didn’t matter when he chose to write to her, sharing everything that weighed on his shoulders and inside his heart. Wench could listen and comfort. Her unshakable belief in him was his mainstay, the water in the driest desert. After years of thirst, he could not get enough of it. He was a selfish man after all, eagerly absorbing every word coming from her, trying and failing to wait for her response before writing another letter. 

A loud knock sounded on his door.

“Enter.”

Peck appeared in his chamber. 

“What is it, lad?” Jaime said. “It’s quite late to be still up. Better get some sleep. We don’t want to deal with a mixed pair of boots again, do we?” 

“Your Grace,” the boy bowed, still embarrassed by his innocent mistake which caused more laughter than actual distress. “This came from Tarth. I thought you might want to see it immediately rather than wait until morning.”

“And you were correct in your assumption,” Jaime admitted. His squire knew him all too well. 

“Do you wish for more wine, Your Grace?” 

“You’re mistaking me for the Queen,” Jaime laughed aa the lad's eyes locked on an almost full jug of wine. It was way better than whatever diluted piss simple squires could get for themselves after a day full of duties. “I won’t need it anymore. You may take it away.”

“Have a good night, Your Grace.” The lad bowed, leaving the room with a beaming face.

Oh, it will be, Jaime smiled to himself. The Wench finally wrote him back. Maybe she will finally tell him what was that fast method of communication she knew from her world. Jaime was eager to find out. How easier it would be if he could reach her anytime without the need for ravens and the limitations of their speed? 

With those musings in mind, he made himself more comfortable in his chair. Trying to calm down the fast beating of his heart, with a trembling hand he opened the scroll. 

The letter was much longer than he expected. Oh, Brienne, so much to tell me. Jaime started to read. The smile froze on his lips. Every word felt like a thousand knives in his back.

*

The journey to the tower of the Hand was endless just like the conversation that happened there. Most of the time Lord Tywin spent questioning Jaime about the letter and the author, all the questions Jaime didn’t want to answer even to himself. 

“Who is this woman to you?”

There were too many words he could use to describe what Brienne was to him but none of them could he force himself to say out loud. 

“Are we going through this again?” His right fist clenched though the golden finger didn’t move. “Are you going to ignore the content of this message?”

“No. As concerning as it is, we need to be sure about her intentions before we take any action. What purpose does she have? What is her goal? Isn’t it part of their plan?”

“I trust her, Father.” Was the only answer Jaime had. “Either way is it true or not, we need to be prepared for each eventuality.”

A strange spark flickered in father’s cold green eyes.

“Are you prepared to deal with your own son if it comes to it?” 

Jaime swallowed. 

“I will be.”

The sun was rising by the time they finished discussing the strategy of their next moves but neither thought about getting any rest. They didn’t have time to lose. 

*

The missive summoning Joffrey to King’s Landing was sent immediately. Lord Tywin left for Casterly Rock to secretly gather and coordinate Westernlords, urging them to prepare their men and be ready to march out to Stormlands. Meanwhile in the capital, Jaime took care to plan the defence of the city.

The days passed. Lord Tywin sent riders informing him that he managed to gather the army and after some resistance, he secured the passage through the Riverlands if necessary and now he was on a way to Highgarden.

There was no news from Joffrey until the ships with Lannister red and golden sails were spotted going from Dragonstone to South. A few days later Lord Varys confirmed that Prince Joffrey joined the Stormland rebellion and their army and the fleet moved forward to take the capital.

*

King’s Landing was under siege for over a month and Jaime knew it wouldn’t last for much longer. They have already lost almost all their ships, and many soldiers and gold cloaks were injured during the defence of the walls, leaving no capable people to deflect further attacks. But even if they managed to do so, hunger would finish them sooner than enemies' arrows. The food supplies were steadily running low and with the blockage of all ways in and out, it was only a matter of time before the city starved. The Flea Bottom already did despite the additional food coming from royal separate storage being distributed among those who needed it the most. But it was not enough and soon the riots started to overtake the lower parts of the city and no gold cloaks or even the straps from the royal table could placate hungry angry folks.

The hope for the aid coming from the West was slowly dying with every passing hour. There was no news as the rebels were diligently shooting down all birds trying to fly in or out of the city and no red banners have been spotted on the horizon. Did you give up on us Father? Was the disappointment so great that you’d rather let us die here with our shame? Was that the legacy Jaime was meant to leave behind? You were mistaken about me, Brienne. He shall be the Kingslayer till the day he dies in that damned city, defeated by his own son.

Just the day before the rebels almost broke the King’s Gate. By tomorrow they will sack the city and take the Red Keep. It will be over. They will find him sitting on the throne just like they did the last time. Or maybe he will die sooner just like Aerys did. Would any of his knights stop him if he decided to burn them all? The wildfire was still there. Hidden and untouched. Jaime didn’t take the risk of telling anyone or trying to move it. If he did it now…

No.  He would be the first to plunge the sword through his guts. If he was destined to fail, he would meet death alone with a sword in his hand. Cersei would hate him for this if she didn’t already but surprisingly Jaime hardly cared.

This is the end of your impossible tale, Brienne. A bitter smile adorned his lips as he finished rereading all the letters he received from her during all those months. He wished he could send a word to her now. Only what would he say? There were no proper words that could convey the sting in his heart every time he remembered those astonishing blue eyes, full of innocence and trust in him. She believed in him and he failed her too. He didn’t live up to her expectations but he surely won’t be the one taking her down with him.

Jaime looked at the last letter. Please, be careful Jaime. Yours, Brienne, said small neat letters. My Brienne, Jaime smiled and tossed letters into the fire.

The door opened and Cersei’s figure in a light white dress revealing her shoulders slipped inside together with a blow of chilling air. 

“The city will fall today,” Jaime said, observing the folds of parchment turning black under the caress of the flames.

“I know.”

A delicate hand touched his arm and slowly travelled up to his chin, compelling him to raise his head and meet her green eyes.

“You should have left with Myrcella and Tommen. You would be safer in Casterly Rock with them.”

“I could never leave you alone here, Jaime.” Cersei caressed his cheek covered with a thick coarse beard. 

“They are coming to kill us,” Jaime said flatly. He wasn't afraid of dying. He has never feared meeting his end. He would have given his life away if it could guarantee the safety of his family, yet he knew all too well that his death would never be enough and their enemies would never find peace until they remove all of them from this world.

“Joffrey won't let anyone harm us if you surrender the throne to him.”

“And if I don’t? Is he going to kill me to get to it?” Jaime tried to find an answer in her eyes. “It’s a shame we won’t get the chance to see it as once the city is taken, Joffrey will be the first one to lose his head.”

“Not if he will be the one to strike first.”

“Such unity and trust between the allies are admirable.” A thin smile touched Jaime's lips.

“None of it would have ever happened if you had listened to me and didn’t send Joff away. I guess keeping your crown was more important to you. Enjoy it while you still can.”

The last piece of her mask finally fell down.

“So that is why you came here.” Since his maiming, she became a person he didn't recognise anymore. Looking at her felt like seeing a stranger hiding behind a familiar face. Was she always like that? Or was it him who changed to be the person she had never agreed to be with? “I hardly remember the last time you spoke to me, the last time you looked at me without disgust, the last time you touched me.” 

“It’s over, Jaime…” Suddenly Cersei's eyes were full of tears when she took his flesh hand into hers. “I didn’t want it to end like this.” 

“We will die together as we were born together,” Jaime repeated the words that once felt from her passionate lips. “You’ve never meant it.” 

“Whatever happens, I will be there with you.”

I don’t believe you. Jaime didn't resist when she leaned in and wrapped her arms around him. There was no surge of heat, no racing heart or unresisting passion. Despite the resentment and hurt still gnawing at his heart, she was just a sister at this moment, for the first time since they were innocent children.

“I hate waiting for the inevitable like this.” Cersei got up and the long wide sleeves of her dress brushed his face as she moved to the table. 

She handed him a glass of wine and took a seat beside him.

“For us, Jaime.” A single drop of deep red liquid spilt on her white dress as the glasses clinked together.

Jaime didn’t reply. 

It was almost dawn. The sun was about to rise. It was quiet, the attack hadn't begun yet. The last peaceful moment before the battle. His last day in the world.

Jaime silently brought the wine to his lips when the loud knock rang in the room and red-faced Peck entered without waiting for permission.

“Your Grace,” he started, out of breath and struggling with the words. 

“Calm down, lad.” Jaime rose from his seat and handed the boy his glass. Cersei jerked in her seat.

Peck made a few greedy sips, coughed and addressed the king.

“Your Grace,” his voice was still a bit rough. He coughed again to clear his throat. “Y-your Grace, red and green banners…”

“Peck?” Jaime cautiously stepped to the boy. His face was turning blue and a wheeze escaped his throat.

“Leave him, our enemies must be already here…”

“...ba- banners… came fr- from the W-west.” 

The boy breathed out and fell to the floor.

                *

The rebellion was over. Tywin Lannister's forces allied with Tyrells came just in time to crush the rebels before they took and pillaged the city. Many soldiers surrendered after their leaders, boorish Robert Baratheon cursing and fighting to the last breath and Joffrey cowardly begging for mercy were captured and transferred to the deepest dungeons to await the trial.

Another prison was for Cersei. The cell in the tower with a heavy door kept always closed with two thick locks. Trial awaited her as well, no pleading, no tears, no declaration of love could remove the image of Peck’s blue lips and surprised questioning eyes and soon they turned into screams and curses that no one could hear.

The days passed in a haze. The Kingslayer won again. The whispers followed Jaime everywhere but the supposed victory felt like his greatest defeat. 

The day of the trial greeted him with chilly air and a hint of hoarfrost in the corner of the window. It was even colder when he entered the great hall, full of people gathered to see the Kingslayer delivering the justice. Jaime would laugh at the irony had it not been his firstborn son standing in shackles in line with Baratheon, the two of them looking at the king with nothing but pure hatred in their eyes.

What have you done, Joffrey? Jaime asked himself, listening to the line of witnesses recounting all the atrocities his son committed during his short reign in Dragonstone. Was it your choice or were you deprived of it as the son of Kingslayer born of his twin, his mirror, as vile as he himself?

No emotion appeared on Jaime's face as he watched his son denying and deflecting the accusations without a blink and Robert Baratheon proudly admitting his part in the rebellion and finishing the cursing of Kingslayer’s name with overly expressive spit. There was no feeling when he got up from his throne and made a step forward. All looks were directed at him, everyone stilled as the deep silence settled in the courtroom.

“Robert of House Baratheon, you are found guilty of treason against the Crown, breaking your oath and leading the Stormlands into rebellion which is punishable by death.” 

“Joffrey of House Lannister,” Jaime continued, his voice cutting the uproar his previous words caused in the room. “You are found guilty of abusing the power bestowed upon you, of exploitation of people under your rule and of joining the rebellion against the Crown and your family. The punishment of each of your crimes is death.”

The deep silence settled in the room again. Jaime could not avert his eyes from the pale face of his son, yet he couldn't look into his eyes either. His firstborn son, his heir. The child he should have loved from the day Cersei brought him to this world but there was nothing but emptiness in his heart. Not even anger, pain or betrayal. Only a strange sense of relief after the sword that was threatening to hit you finally falls down.

“Many have died because of your pride, selfishness and greed. Men better or worse than me and you. Men who deserved their fate and those who were innocent, guilty only of having the honour to follow the lord to whom they swore an oath. They would have been heroes had your plan succeeded, now all of you are nothing more than a bunch of traitors whose heads should stand high at the Red Keep gate.” Everything would be already over had there been anyone else. Had there been anyone else, he would have had no doubts about what to do. “However, I do not find it fair to start the new peace with more death. Your lives can be spared but your crimes will not go unpunished. You will redeem yourself by joining the Night Watch. You will serve with honour and defend the Seven Kingdoms from the threat of the unknown. Do you accept?” 

Jaime felt his heart accelerating. It was everything he could offer. It was mercy none of them deserved.

“You want to freeze my balls in the middle of nowhere and call it mercy? Fuck your mercy! Give me a sword, Kingslayer, and fight me! Let the goods decide my fate. Death or life.” Robert roared from his place. “Or are you too much of a coward to fight me like a man? Choose your champion then! Or ten if you want. I'll kill them all before you put me on a fucking Wall.”

“You won’t force me to exile again, father. I demand a trial by combat,” Joffrey said, encouraged by Baratheon's outburst. 

“There will be no trial by combat. The gods are just and we rely on their judgement when we are in the dark and doubts about someone's guilt or innocence cloud our minds. We believe the Seven manifest their will through our combat skills. Does it mean a weak fighter or a cripple is never innocent and the skilled strong warrior is incapable of being guilty?” Jaime paused to look at frowning faces. He wanted them to realize how stupid and far from justice this tradition was as he couldn't say it directly if he didn't want to lose the last shreds of support for questioning and offending the faith. He was already half a step away from crossing this invisible line. “Fortunately for us today, there is no doubt about your guilt. We have all seen the proof and the consequences of your treason still affect many of my people. You are guilty and no fighting skill and no amount of won combats will change the fact that you committed treason and went against the crown. Since you refused the granted mercy, you have made your choice known. Guards, take them into the cells. The traitors will meet their fate tomorrow at the sunrise.” 

Jaime strode to the door, leaving the commotion and one horrified face behind.

The night came, quiet and imperceptible, slowly yet inexorably bringing the dreaded morning closer. Jaime couldn’t close his eyes, numbly staring ahead at the rough sea, tormented by the chilly wind as the doubts crept into his heart. 

Goldenhand the Just, Jaime looked down at his right hand. During the months before the rebellion started and his worlds crumbled to pieces all over again, the heavy golden monstrosity attached to his wrist became a reminder of a hopeful and bright future lying ahead of him. The maiden’s tale was a beacon in the darkness, the inspiration to be the man he had always wanted to be. Respected and just. And now, as being the incestuous Kingslayer wasn’t enough, he was about to become a kinslayer as well.

Where was the justice? In killing his firstborn son or letting the heinous crimes committed by him go unpunished? Or maybe he should just kill himself as he was at fault for creating and enabling the monster. A careless squirt of seed in Cersei’s cunt was all it took. For the years that followed he chose to ignore all disturbing signs while Cersei nurtured them like a gardener does his beloved plant. Had Jaime been any wiser, he would have stopped it the first time Joffrey intentionally made his little sister cry. If he had, maybe Tommen wouldn’t have found his dear kittens skinned, Brienne would have never been assaulted and he would have still had his right hand. Was that the right thing to do? Who was he first? The father loving and protecting his children or the king responsible for the whole kingdom and the people living in it? Was it possible to be both? If it was, then where was the line between the two? Where was the line between justice and mercy?

Every question cut through the veil he was afraid to lift for so long, revealing the ugly bitter truth.

He failed the boy as a father, could he fail as a king as well?

The world was becoming grey, slowly waking up from the deep darkness of night. Jaime went down long winding stairs leading to the deepest dungeons of Red Keep where the prisoners sentenced to death were waiting for their end.

Not a living soul heard the words that passed between them. By the time the king left his son's cell, the capital had already woken up. The silent excitement mixed with tense anticipation vibrated in the morning air.

Jaime made a decision. 

Chapter Text

Brienne never doubted her decision to write Jaime about the overheard conversation until a raven arrived at Evenfall Hall two weeks later and abruptly removed Lord Selwyn from the dinner table. The same night he summoned Brienne to his office and informed her about his haste and inevitable departure to the mainland.

“The Kingslayer started to gather his army. We didn’t expect it so soon.”

“Do you have to go? It will be an open rebellion if you do. Can’t you just stay here and not get involved?”

“I’m obliged by the oath to follow Baratheons.”

“As you are to the king! Have you forgotten that not so long ago you swore fealty to him as well?”

“The Kingslayer will never be my king!”

“How much Renly had to promise for you to become a traitor?”

“Enough!” Lord Selwyn’s enormous fist hit the desk. “Know your place, Brienne. I’m not asking you for advice as you clearly have no understanding of what is going on around you. Kingslayer is not a bloody hero for saving you in the woods.”

Jaime is so much more.

“Father…” Brienne blinked away tears gathering in her eyes. “Please, don’t-”

“You will stay here,” Lord Selwyn cut her off, “and together with Maester Volden you will manage the castle and the lands until my return.”

And if you don't return? Brienne wanted to ask but stayed silent. The decision was already made.

The next morning Lord Selwyn was gone with several units of best Tarth archers and Brienne lost herself in household work. There was always something to do and luckily for her, all the tasks took much more time than Brienne would usually need if she was in her time. Instead of convenient spreadsheets and quick calculations, she needed to write down all the household expenses in a great notebook. The quill in her hand was still leaving stains on rough yellow pages and she still didn’t quite comprehend how to subtract numbers using a wooden abacus. However without septa Roelle, who had been dismissed right after the feast with Baratheons at Brienne’s firm request, and her scrutinising and disapproving look, she could allow herself to slow down and do the things the way she was taught in school. Apart from keeping the order in accounting books, Brienne collected and distributed the goods that were coming to Evenfall Hall from the harbour and surrounding villages. She also managed the household staff, who quickly discovered that the Lady of Tarth preferred simplicity and modesty and under her frugal stewardship, their work was equally appreciated and rewarded.

In moments of doubt, she could always count on maester Volden’s support. Every time she entered his office to ask for advice, the old man greeted her with a smile and always listened attentively to her problems, but never giving an exact answer, trying to guide her to a solution instead. 

The evenings she spent in a secluded part of the gardens, where she practised the sword fight alone or with imaginary opponents, as almost all household knights together with Ser Goodwin have left the island with Lord Selwyn. She was trying hard, pushing herself to limits where all her muscles were burning with exhaustion. When her hands were no longer able to hold a sword, Brienne would drop it to perform a series of doru-ondos routines. The moves she had once trained with such dedication, now were just the echo of her former self, the memory of different times and the different world she was no longer part of. It was sweat, it was pain, it was anger at her own helplessness.  

*

The news from the mainland was not coming and every passing day was making Brienne more and more anxious about the outcome of the rebellion.

“What happens to the king if the rebels take the city?” she asked maester Volden one evening. They were sitting in the gardens, enjoying the last warmth coming from the setting autumn sun. 

“Those in power will depose him in a way they find suitable.”

“Death sentence?” Brienne whispered. She felt her throat constricting, making it difficult to breathe. 

“My lady,” maester's hand rested on her shoulder like an anchor preventing her from drowning in an abyss of fear, “Please calm down. There is no reason for panic. We need to believe that everything will turn out well.” 

“How to do that when we’re here in the darkness?” 

The old maester didn't answer immediately. His bright astute eyes studied her for several long moments as if trying to scan through her skull and reach the deepest secret thoughts. 

“You seem to care for His Grace a great deal, don't you, my lady?” 

The heat she felt coming to her face had nothing to do with sunrays gently caressing her face.

“Well… he has saved me and I'm grateful for that.” 

“I understand,” maester Volden slowly nodded and a knowing smile appeared on his lips. “And as I say, you need not worry this much. Our king has his loyal subjects who would inform him about the upcoming rebellion, doesn’t he?” 

“He… he probably does.” Brienne stumbled. She didn’t like the turn of this conversation. 

“Doesn't it surprise you, my lady?” 

“I don't know what you are implying, maester.”

The smile on the old man's face only widened.

“I'm not implying anything. However, I couldn't help but notice the one long letter that you brought in the morning after the feast with Baratheons.” 

A cold shiver ran down her spine as the maester continued.

“You were visibly distressed and urged me to send it immediately. I admit that it greatly piqued my curiosity about the content of the message although I already had my suspicions. It turned out they were right all along.” 

“Did you read my letter?” Brienne asked incredulously.

“I did.” The maester answered calmly as if he was talking about beautiful weather instead of admitting to a such horrendous violation of someone's privacy. “To answer your next question, I did send it as you intended.” 

The relief was short-lived, giving a way to indignation and then unsettling anxiousness. Brienne took a deep breath, bracing herself for what was going to come next.

“Maester Volden, this was not the only letter I brought to you.” 

“It certainly was not.” 

“And you have read them all.”  It was not a question anymore. There was no need to ask. “How could you? I trusted you.” 

“It is not something I'm proud of, my lady. As a maester, it is my duty to look after all the messages coming in and out of Evenfall Hall and report them to Lord Selwyn. We don't often receive letters from King's Landing. When we do, it's always something of utmost importance which is immediately brought to Lord Selwyn's attention. However, that one had your name on it.” 

“Because it was for me! You said you didn't read it. It had an intact seal…” 

“It appeared that way, yes. I’ve been a maester for over forty years. I’m old and weak but there are still some skills remaining in my old hands.”

“If you have read everything…” Brienne stopped suddenly as the realisation hit her like a bucket of cold water thrown at her head. If the maester had read all the letters that passed between her and Jaime then there was no way he didn't figure out that something was wrong. Very wrong. “You know then.”

“It is a bit of exaggeration but in general yes, I do.”

“Why didn't you tell anyone?”

“About you or the traitorous letter you have written?” The smile on his face was surprisingly warm and kind considering the topic of their conversation. “Who would I tell? Do you think Lord Selwyn would believe that you are not his daughter even though all he could see is undeniably her likeness and form? Do you think he would let you continue exchanging love letters with the king? (Maester Volden ignored the indignant I do not exchange love letters with Jaime!) He certainly would let you write to him but only the information he would make you share.” He sighed heavily and his back hunched under the invisible burden of his own struggles and doubts. “I could have told him about the last letter and warned him about the traitor in his own home. I should have as my oath compelled me to…”

“Why didn't you?”

The old man closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

“I have spent many days thinking about you and the king. I still cannot fully comprehend what any of it means.” He was talking slowly, carefully choosing the words. “From the pieces I've gathered, it seems that there is something more in the future. You've seen it if your claims are true and you believe Jaime Lannister is the key to get there. I am willing to take this chance.”

“Even if it means that Lord Selwyn might be killed as a traitor?”

“There is always such a possibility at war and there are greater things than the loyalty of an old man to one old lord. What is my loyalty in the grand scheme of things?”

“And your conscience? Your integrity? Your promise?”

“Is a broken promise a fair price to pay for a chance of a greater future?”

It was only the beginning of the conversations that followed. When the sun had set and chilly air enveloped them, they moved to the maester's office. Sitting comfortably by the cheery fire, Brienne, still somewhat angry yet at the same time relieved, started to talk about everything she knew, about a world that used to be her home. Maester listened with wide-open eyes, nodding and asking questions about anything, be it a crucial historical event or breaking through invention, that caught his interest. For her part, Brienne tried to answer everything the best she could, suddenly aware of her great lack of specific and technical knowledge as she was trying to explain how everyday use devices she'd known forever worked.

“What am I supposed to do here, maester? How do I go back?” Brienne asked eventually. The flames were dying in the fireplace together with her tale. The relief of sharing her story, of removing this splinter of truth festering inside her soul slowly wore out, leaving her with a fresh open wound without anything to close it and heal.

“I don’t know, my lady. Some ways are meant to be crossed only once.”

It was the thought Brienne couldn’t get out of her head when a few weeks later she boarded a ship meant to take her to King’s Landing after the missive arrived one foggy morning to summon her to the capital. There was nothing in the message that would indicate the outcome of the rebellion and the current situation and Brienne spent the whole day discussing with the maester all the different possibilities and scenarios before deciding to go. Despite the old man’s concerns about her position as the Lady of Tarth, Brienne was too tired of waiting in the dark. The uncertainty was eating her from the insides and her imagination fueled by fear and worry created the images in her head one worse than another.

The journey passed in a blur and the web of whispers surrounding her from everywhere. The Kingslayer has won, Brienne heard from the crew but instead of long-awaited relief, her insides coiled as the other news that followed. The Kingslayer was dealing with the traitors, sparing no one. Would she be considered one of them now? Or just being the daughter of the traitor would be enough to send her out of this world together with them? 

Three days later the ship arrived at King's Landing and Ser Addam greeted her in the harbour with a shadow of a smile that Brienne used to see so often during her training with him. The limp that he so hard tried to hide didn’t go unnoticed as he escorted her to the horses as well as his reluctance to meet her gaze.

There were so many questions Brienne wanted to ask but they rode through the city in silence, the horrors of the recent siege still lingering in the air. 

They had just reached the inner yard of the keep and were about to part their ways when Brienne turned to her companion. 

“Ser Addam, I need to know. The rumours I heard on a ship about Robert Baratheon and Prince Joffrey… are they true?” 

“Yes.” 

He left without a second glance, ordering two other gold cloaks to escort her to her designated room which turned out to be nothing more than a small cell in the tower with guards at the door, crushing her hopes to sneak away and… and do what exactly? The time of the careless night wandering around the castle was over for the daughter of the traitor. 

She didn’t sleep that night, guilt and despair keeping her awake together with horrifying images dancing in the shadows. The head rolling on the ground, once attached to boisterous Robert Baratheon and a silken thread coiling around the prince’s white throat like a snake.

Then the morning came and brought the knock on her door. Something chilling tightened in the pit of her stomach.  Brienne recognized it and her whole body shuddered. Fear.

She didn’t protest when the guards led her to the throne room where the court was already gathered. She didn’t hear the wave of whispers nor did she see Lord Selwyn's grim face. He flinched as she took her place beside him and the silent anger radiating from him was worse than a punch to her gut. 

For the whole gathering, Brienne stood there like a stone, with her head down and gaze glued to the ground. She didn’t even look up as the king’s entrance was announced and his quick decisive steps cut through the sudden silence. As he took a seat on the iron throne, Brienne felt his gaze upon her. It burnt her to the core but she stood still, afraid to move, afraid to meet his eyes and see the truth in them.

A heavy sigh of relief escaped her lips as he looked away and the session started. Everything happened in a haze. Brienne barely noticed the moment when Lord Selwyn’s name was called out. She didn’t feel anything when the judgement was announced to grant him mercy instead of a noose. Her knees were stiff and her voice sounded strange in her own ears when she found herself bowing and thanking for the invitation to stay at court. 

When everything was over, Lord Selwyn’s large hand closed around her shoulder in an iron grip and pushed her toward the door.  

Brienne knew she would have to face him eventually but she hoped that this meeting wouldn’t happen so soon. When the door closed, leaving them in an empty solar, away from everyone's sight, the stone mask of indifference finally fell from Lord Selwyn's face giving way to anger.

“It was you. You betrayed us.”

Brienne raised her head to meet the accusation in his gaze. There was no point to lie anymore.

“Yes. It was me.”

“Why? Is it how I raised you? To fall for the charms of a wicked man and to stab your family in the back?”

“Had I not done that, you would stand in the same line with Robert Baratheon and the prince.”

“I knew the risks of failure, my only mistake was to not realise I had a vicious snake just under my nose. Do you think the Kingslayer will thank you for this? Did you imagine he would fall to your knees?”

“Of course, not.” Brienne felt her face getting red from embarrassment. She was never under the illusion that Jaime would have anything other than a friendly sentiment toward her. She was not so stupid to hope for the impossible but Lord Selwyn's words made her feel like a pathetic desperate woman. “I did what I believed was right and I won't apologise for it. No matter what you think of him, king Jaime is a rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms to whom you swore fealty to.”

“Do you hear yourself? You are blinded by his one chivalrous act.”

“Or maybe it's you who can't see a broader picture and Jaime-”

“Enough! I won't hear you singing praises to Kingslayer.” 

Brienne wanted to protest but his raised hand stopped her.

“I don't want to hear a word from you. I can't even stand the sight of you.  You betrayed us, you are not a Tarth. You are not my daughter anymore.”

The words felt like a slap but Brienne collected all her dignity to keep her head high and look him directly in the eyes.

“I never was.”

*

Lord Selwyn left the capital the next day while Brienne was moved to another room in the Maiden vault, more appropriate for the noble guest at the court. 

Never before in her life had Brienne felt so lonely. In the few following days, she learned that she had become an outcast. She was the daughter of the traitor to the Crown, while in the eyes of other Stormlander, guests to the court just like her, she was a traitor as well, responsible for the lost rebellion. Wherever Brienne went, the disdainful looks followed her together with a silence that occurred anywhere she appeared. Soon, she became invisible, no more than a ghost haunting the library, the gardens and the training ground. 

What did I get myself into? She asked herself but it was the follow-up question that made her heart stop a beat. Lady Brienne’s heart. What did I get her into? If they ever meant to find a way back to their respective places, Lady Brienne surely would be horrified to find herself in Brienne’s current situation as thanks to Brienne, the Lady in a mere moment lost her father, name and position. She would hate me for what I did just as much as she hated Jaime. Tears came uninvited. She wept for the Lady whose life she overtook and ruined and for her own life she had lost forever, she cried for Jaime and the misery she had brought to him. She wept in the darkness of her room so no one could see.

She would be completely forgotten, had it not be for a maid bringing her meals and septa who appeared unexpectedly one day.

“I don't need any new dresses,” Brienne told her when the woman took out the tools to take her measurements. She brought several monstrous gowns from Tarth. She also had two pairs of breeches and shirts and no money to buy anything new.

“His Grace decided otherwise.” The woman’s face lit with a genuine smile, something Brienne hasn’t seen since her arrival to King’s Landing. 

“Did Jaime send you?” Brienne asked in surprise and quickly added, seeing septa's raised eyebrows. “I mean His Grace, of course.”

“As I told you, my lady.” She gestured to step closer. “I believe a wedding is a good enough reason to request a new dress, isn’t it, my lady?”

“But I’m not marrying anyone.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” septa smiled, taking a measure of Brienne’s arms. “I assumed you had already heard it. The whole court talks about nothing but the upcoming wedding of our king.”

“What?” 

The news hit like thunder on a bright sunny day. The rest of the measurement she was barely there, mechanically doing whatever she was asked and listening to Septa Donyse’s cheerful chatter and gossip.

Only when she was left alone, Brienne helplessly slid down on her narrow bed. This was news she didn’t expect and something she shouldn’t be so surprised about. Cersei was gone, some said she was sent to Casterly Rock and some claimed she joined silent sisters and others swore she threw herself from the tower after hearing about her son’s execution. It didn’t really matter. Brienne had spent in old Westeros long enough to know that in those times only useful alliances mattered, suitable marriages and legitimate heirs. Cersei and their children were none of those and it was quite surprising that they managed to have this relationship for so long. And now, after the rebellion for which the prince paid with his life, was it really surprising that the price for the victory was another alliance?

Septa Donyse came back a few days later with a ready dress. It took her almost half an hour to convince Brienne to get out of the bed and try it on. 

“I knew it would look gorgeous on you!” The woman exclaimed, clapping her hands with enthusiasm that Brienne didn’t quite share. “How do you like it?”

Brienne nodded, her weak attempt to smile failing miserably.  

“Are you well, my lady?

Another nod. Everything was fine. The deep blue silk embraced her gently, highlighting the subtle curves of her body. The dress was beautiful regardless of its outdated style and definitely way better than anything septa Roelle demanded her to wear but Brienne could not find the joy that used to brighten her mood after a successful shopping tour with her sisters. The woman she saw in the mirror, Lady Brienne she had become, didn’t have any reason to smile anymore.

“It’s fine. The dress is beautiful, thank you.” 

The woman left shortly after that, ensuring Brienne she could always talk to her if needed. The smile Brienne forced upon her face hurt as much as the knowledge that there was no one she could freely share everything that weighed in her heart. The first person who knew her secret refused her several requests for a meeting and the other one was separated by the sea, far away on the island Brienne was banned to come ever again.

What have I done? She asked herself for a thousandth time, wondering if this time she would find the courage to let her body stay still under the water. The courage to be a craven and not to fight for the next breath. To allow herself to be enveloped in darkness and the peaceful silence of the deep.

Brienne went to the desk and retrieved an empty sheet together with a quill and ink. Someone forgot to remove those from the prisoner's room or just didn’t bother, knowing she had no one to write to. Brienne took a deep breath. If she wanted to go home, or at least try to get there, she needed to do this one last thing. 

The quill in her shaking hand screeched in contact with paper but Brienne paid no attention. The words flowed fuelled by her pain, guilt and desperate hope for her actions to be understood and acknowledged. Not forgiven, it would be too much to ask. After all, she had no right to ask for anything.

When the guard appeared at her door some time later, the letter was already finished and hidden among her few modest possessions. Brienne didn’t say a word as she was led through the long corridors of the Red Keep until they stopped at the wide ornate door. 

She was all tense, barely moving her legs when the guard ushered her inside and quickly left. The room was just as she remembered from her one and only visit with the tiny difference of a neatly done bed. Servants also removed all the bandages and medications that used to take up almost all available space on tables and nightstands. 

Brienne cautiously looked around. He was nowhere to be seen. Why did he even bother to call her there after so many denied requests coming from her? Brienne wasn't even sure why she had wanted to meet him so badly after the initial shock of King's Landing and Lord Selwyn's harsh words. Was there anything left to say? Brienne's gaze fell on a single piece of parchment left on a desk. Brienne, it read. Just a single word, nothing else. She touched the empty parchment, her fingertips leaving a faint trace in a layer of dust. There was nothing left to say.

Lost in her thought, Brienne didn’t hear when the door opened and the king entered the chamber. She didn’t see him slowly approaching her from behind, nor did she feel the burning gaze of his green eyes. Her heart almost stopped when his hand found hers and she numbly gave in when it prompted her to turn around. His familiar wide chest clad in a crimson tunic and the golden hand hanging loosely along his body entered her view. She dared not to look up and meet his eyes. She dared not to utter a word. He discarded her friendship, leaving her alone to rot in a prison he prepared for her. Whatever it was that he wanted of her now, she could not find it in herself to meet him. 

“Brienne…” So soft, barely a whisper.

She closed her eyes to stop the tears gathering there. She could not look up. She did not want to see Jaime Lannister ever again.

Chapter Text

“Brienne...” Jaime could not bring his voice to be anything more than a whisper while his only hand still held hers, cold and rigid like a stone. Her eyes remained closed, the only indication that she had heard him was the slightest frown on her otherwise stoic and emotionless face.

“You can’t even look at me.”

She shook her head, not opening her eyes. Stubborn woman.

“Fine. Then fucking don’t.”  

The next moment she was in his arms. Everything fell into its place. He could feel her racing heart against his own and her hot breath caressing the nape of his neck. Gods, he should have done that the moment her feet stepped into King's Landing again. But no, it took him weeks of festering resentment and one shrewd septa to make him realise that.

“She is suffering, Your Grace. She won’t tell me, she will smile but I see so much pain in her eyes. She spends days in her chamber, sometimes not even leaving the bed. I’m afraid she is losing her will to live.”

He dismissed septa Donyse after that. He had sent the woman to make sure the noble lady had everything her status required, not to listen how much she hated being his guest again after she hurt him so much in the throne room. She could not look at him anymore. He realised it weeks ago in the throne room and this revelation ignited the anger inside him that burnt like wildfire. He hated her indifference that cut deeper than any hateful insult ever could. But first of all, he hated himself for longing so much for her presence. Since she left the Red Keep, there was not a single day he would not think of any poor jest or insignificant event he’d like to tell her. There was not a single night he would not dream of the steel grip of her hand and the softest smile on her lips. Convinced of his inevitable death, it was her he longed to see for the last time and the stupid belief in her words guided him when he made all the crucial decisions. The ugly Wench had become his weakness and what angered him the most was the fact that despite numerous attempts, he was not able to sever the influence she had over him. 

He cut her out of his life and she was hurting, alone and abandoned. He was too. 

And now she was in his arms and the cut she inflicted still bled. But he was not alone. He never was with her. And he didn’t want to let her go.

It was she who stepped back, gently freeing herself from his embrace.

“Why did you call me, Your Grace?” 

Jaime let out a deep sigh. There was no escape from this conversation.

“To see you,” he answered honestly. He was too battered to come up with lies and half-truths even if it meant exposing himself to another blow. “How you are faring.”

“What an honour. After weeks of your silence, I presumed my well-being is the last of your concerns.” Her voice was cold and formal and the meaning could not be farthest from the truth.

“Do you resent me for it?”

“Just tell me what you want from me.”

“So you do. And I’ll disappoint you by saying I have no excuse except for believing you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Bizarre conclusion when I was trying to get a meeting with you and was rejected. Repeatedly.”

“But then in the throne room-”

“I was confused, afraid and still shocked after everything I had heard. I didn’t know what to expect…”

“From me?”

“Yes. I still don’t know what to expect from you.”

“Are you afraid of me?” 

She flinched at the question and raised her head to meet his eyes. Finally. The relief of seeing her gaze directed at him didn’t last long. He knew the answer to his question but hearing it from her was something he could not bear.

“I mean no harm to you,” Jaime said before she could deliver her blow. Wherever she believed he could not tell. Maybe she’d be wiser to not take any of his words as true. His oath, promises were as good as lies after all. “I’ll make sure you’ll be safe here and no harm will come to you. Especially from me.”

Brienne didn’t acknowledge his words. Her hands mindlessly fidgeted with her sleeves.

“Would you allow me to go home?” She asked eventually.

“I can’t send you to Tarth yet.”

“I’m not welcome there.” A sad smile touched her lips. “I meant my real home.”

It took him a few seconds to recollect her tale and grasp her meaning. Her real home, thousand years into the future from now. The home she once tried to get back to by drowning in the sea.

“Are you asking me to kill you?” Jaime asked, struggling to comprehend her request.

“I’m asking you to help me.”

Jaime had to laugh no matter how it hurt. So many people he had already helped. 

“You don’t know what you ask for.”

“I want to be free from this dreadful world.”

“You are the only one who makes it better.” 

“How can you say it knowing I’m the reason for all this mess? If I didn’t appear here, you wouldn’t lose your hand and everything after wouldn’t have happened…”

Jaime sighed. Maybe he’d have his hand and what next? He’d still be in the dark about so many things, happily living a lie and making it his whole existence. Losing the part that defined him for so long shattered all the illusions he had about himself and kicked him to redefine his life and his choices. It was Brienne who inspired him to seek the path of becoming the man he had always wanted to be. He was failing but there was no way back now. 

He took her hand again, relieved she didn’t retreat. 

“Stay.” With me, was added silently. I won’t let you go.

“And do what?” Brienne suddenly sounded weak and fragile. “I’m tired of wandering around the keep and getting everyone uncomfortable.”

“I can make you my advisor and you will kick my ass to the ground every time I do something to deserve it.”

“I’d be quite overworked in this case.” For the first time since he saw her a tiny smile lit her eyes. Jaime could not help a little laugh. He squeezed her hand.

“I’ll take care of everything. Just stay.”

In the end, Brienne agreed to remain within the court, under the condition of getting something to do, lest she loses her sanity. After all, she added, I must earn my place here. Though Jaime disagreed, arguing that she was always welcome no matter what, he vowed to honour her wishes.

*

The Seven Kingdoms remained in disarray even after the war. Jaime's power was significantly weakened by recent events. His long list of titles and honours was now accompanied by a new one, equally as respectable as the rest - Kinslayer. The man who ordered the death of his firstborn son and watched a crimson silk thread taking away his last breath. No one besides Cersei mourned Joffrey. The death of the child was supposed to leave a hole the size of a world but all Jaime could feel was relief and immense guilt for feeling this way. Was he truly as heartless as he had accused Cersei of being? Or was he just as power-hungry, still trying to navigate the various factions that surrounded him, eager to tear apart his crumbling power and influence? 

Jaime sighed, as he started fumbling with the laces of his shirt. Soon they loosened but it wasn't easier to breathe. After the whole day spent in the small council room, he felt drained and exhausted. The endless negotiations, fierce demands and reluctant compromises slowly built a cage around him that with each day he seemed less likely to escape.

A soft knock sounded on the door and someone quietly slipped inside.

“I brought you dinner, Your Grace.” 

Jaime turned to see Brienne placing a silver tray on the table. 

“You don’t have to. You are not my servant maid.” 

“I know.” 

Of course she did. She was doing it day after day for the last week. Entering his room, acknowledging his reminder and leaving just as quietly as if she had never been there. Jaime never spoke to her more than it was necessary, not knowing if she would welcome it but usually too exhausted to try to find out.

Despite the first step, the relationship between them still was rocky and considerably more restrained than ever before. The natural easiness that had always pulled them towards each other suddenly was replaced with a quiet uncertainty. If once Brienne gifted him with a bright smile every time their paths crossed in the training yards, now it was merely a polite nod of acknowledgement and her quickened steps to get out of his way and return to the new duties that she chose for herself and Jaime reluctantly agreed.

“Is there anything else?” he asked, noticing she made no move to leave.

“No… I'll be going.” She rushed to the door but stopped the moment her name fell from his lips. 

“Stay for dinner.” 

“I've eaten already,” Brienne said, still facing the door.

“For a glass of cider?” Jaime asked hopefully. It was certainly not Arbour Gold (there was still a shortage in the capital) but at least it didn’t bear the acrid stink of dornish red. He felt the hesitation radiating from her rigid posture. Was she thinking of the best way to escape? He added quietly: “It’s an invitation, not an order. You are free to refuse.” 

Brienne let out a deep sigh of defeat.

“Just one glass.”

Jaime didn’t expect such a relief that waved over him as she turned to him and accepted the pale-yellow drink that he spilt all over the table trying to pour into the glass with a shaky hand. He gestured to the chair closest to the crackling fireplace, urging her to take it while he dragged another one for himself.

“How are you doing, Brienne? Old Albard is not giving you a hard time?”

She grimaced and shook her head.

“It’s hard for him to trust me with anything more complicated than bringing him spiced milk. I’m afraid he doesn’t quite believe me when I say I have experience in running accountancy and insists on doing it himself even though he can hardly see anything.”

 It was nothing surprising. The old man who for years acted as the castellan of the keep swiftly carrying out the orders and ensuring that all needs of the notable inhabitants were met was less than pleased to hear that a young lady from the disgraced house was to assist him in his duties.

“Do you have any other concerns except for her being a woman?” Jaime asked when the castellan made his displeasure clear.

“Your Grace, she is young and inexperienced. I won’t put such a great responsibility into her hands.”

“She is going to assist you, not replace you. If she fails at given tasks then you will come to me.”

The castellan left muttering something under his breath but Jaime did not see him since that conversation. He hoped it was a good sign until now when he was sitting opposite Brienne in front of a fireplace, observing the hard lines of her face trying to hide her weariness and resignation. 

“If you wish I could-”

“No, Jaime, it’s fine. I can handle this.”

“You know you don’t have to do this. You are always welcome here.”

“I want to be useful.”

“You are.”

Brienne didn’t reply, choosing to stare into the fire and they finished their drinks in silence. Jaime didn’t protest when she got up and moved to the door.

“Let me know if there is anything you need, Your Grace.”

“I will.”

And she was gone.

The next evening when she came with a tray, two glasses of cider were already waiting and chairs had not been moved since the last evening. Brienne did not look overly eager but she didn’t reject the invitation either. She stayed that evening, the next one and the following. There was never much conversation, they could not go back to those simple times of meeting at the terrace no matter how much Jaime wished to. Too much has happened since then. He could not pretend anymore to be a carefree arrogant stranger and she was not a rebellious lady recovering from the accident. 

“Did you know it would happen?” Jaime asked suddenly, breaking out of his thoughts.

“You mean the…” Brienne hesitated, not quite looking at him.

“Yes.”

She wriggled the empty glass in her hands, her eyes closed as if she tried to escape the further conversation. The question hung between them, suddenly making the air heavy and suffocating. But there was no way back. 

“I didn’t,” Brienne said eventually. Her voice was quiet but firm. “The more I think about it, the clearer it becomes that I never knew anything. Would it matter if I did? Would it change anything if I told you?”

“No. Joffrey deserved to die for what he did.” There was never a doubt about it. It was the sense of guilt that could not let go, making him go back to the past, overanalysing every moment, every interaction he could have done differently instead of creating the monster. “I just…” He trailed off, not finding the words that could capture all the conflicting feelings gnawing at his heart.

“It shouldn’t be you to pass the sentence,” Brienne said, her big blue eyes full of something he could not name.

“Who then? It’s the king’s justice.” Jaime took a sip of his drink. It tasted sour on his tongue. “Although I’d prefer if he tripped on the stairs and broke his neck.”

“So you wouldn’t have to present him with a silken thread?” The unmistakable note of disapproval sharpened her tone. Did she think he was intentionally cruel? Was he? Once the insinuation would have angered him but now only a derisive smile appeared on his face.

“I promised to never spill the blood of my kin.”

Brienne nodded. “You should never take it upon yourself. No matter what he did, he was still your son.” 

“Should his crimes go unpunished?”

Brienne looked at him steadily. “No, of course not. But maybe there could be another way…”

Jaime felt a twinge of guilt in his chest. 

“Another way...” He shook his head. “I am bound to serve justice. I am the one to pass the judgement and I am expected to be just no matter who stands in front of me waiting for a trial.” The bitterness dripped from his words as he remembered his son, his mother that lost herself in grief and madness, locked far away under the care of silent sisters. He thought about Tommen and Myrcella who refused to leave Casterly Rock and return to King’s Landing, deciding to stay away from the father capable of executing his own child.

“Do you still believe in the future you’ve seen?”

“I’m not sure what to believe. Sometimes I think that my previous life was just a dream. Everything I knew turned out to be false and misguided.” A wistful sigh escaped her lips. 

Do you believe in me? Jaime wanted to ask but the words never came. He didn’t know if he wanted to hear the answer.

Jaime spent the night numbly staring at the ceiling. Some bizarre thought could not leave his mind, yet he could not catch it. For the whole day, he was distracted, forcing himself to pay attention to everyone around. Something was amiss, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

Every morning he forced himself to get out of bed. Cold water that he washed his face soothed his burning eyes and swollen skin. There was always silence instead of Peck’s mindless chattering. Jaime did not take another squire. After what happened to the boy put in his care, he would rather dress alone, one day realising that shirts brought to his chambers instead of the usual lacing had a row of hooks or buttons, making it so easier to manage with one hand. The same happened with the food. It started coming in small pieces, saving him from the struggle with the knife. His pride had never allowed him to ask for it. He’d rather go without a meal than admit his weakness and uselessness. 

And recently he felt more useless than ever. The power was slipping through his fingers. Even though father’s deal with the Reach was crucial in defeating Stormlands rebellion, it felt more like a trap than a solution. The greedy rose stems seemed to entwine him from all sides, determined to squeeze the last breath out of him. In the past, he could have cut through them with his sword, but now he was no longer a warrior. Instead, he needed to learn how to become a gardener, how to trade his sword for a quill and his sparring for reading. Mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone, Tyrion once said, and more than ever Jaime wished Tyrion was there.

*

“News came from Tarth.”

“Oh.”

The glass of cider slightly shook in Brienne’s hand but otherwise, her face remained still and collected. She became a marble statue, devoid of those vivid expressions that always made him so eager to tease and jest just to see her flushed and riled up. And now she was hiding behind this dreadful mask that would only fall down when the two of them finished their drinks and continued their conversation long into the night, discussing everything and nothing at all.

“Lord Selwyn has remarried,” Jaime said, watching her closely for any reaction. He longed to see an emotion on her face, be it anger, joy or disappointment. 

“Why are you telling me that?”

“You would find out regardless.”

Brienne nodded. “What are you going to do with me when I’m not the heir of Tarth anymore? I’ll be a worthless hostage to the Crown.”

“You’re not here because of that.”

“Am I not? I was under the impression that all the guests from Stormlands at your court stayed here not because they wanted to.”

“Why are you so stubborn, Wench? I told you that you are always welcome here. I don’t care if you are future Evenfall or not.”

“Do you still receive letters from Tarth?” Brienne asked suddenly.

Jaime sighed. “I do, but not as often as I used to.”

“Why?”

“You don’t write to me anymore, Wench.” 

A small smile touched her lips. “I need to send a letter to the maester.”

*

“I hope I’m too late,” Brienne said once as they sat again in his chambers and finished the second glass of wine, recently delivered to the Red Keep.

“What do you mean?”

“The congratulations are in order.” It was the first time she brought up his topic, despite it hardly being any secret.

Jaime smiled wryly. “Yes, I suppose they are.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "It's not what I wanted, it’s just something that needs to be done.”

Brienne's gaze flicked up to meet his briefly before she looked away again.

“I understand,” she said.

“It changes nothing,” Jaime said, hoping to ease the sudden tension between them.

Brienne's eyes narrowed slightly as she turned to face him. “Of course.”

“Are you upset?”

“Why would I be?”

Jaime hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to answer. “I don't know. I just...thought you might be,” he admitted.

Brienne shook her head. “It's not my place to be upset. We’re just fulfilling our duties.”

Jaime studied her for a moment, wondering if she truly felt that way. But he knew better than to push the issue further. He simply nodded and refilled his glass, the conversation coming to an awkward end.

*

Jaime felt a growing anxiety in the pit of his stomach as the day of his wedding to Margaery Tyrell drew closer. To distract himself from the growing unease, he threw himself into his duties, but the knot in his chest only tightened.

It was a month before the wedding when Jaime strode towards Tywin's office, determined to get some answers about the changes in the small council that Tyrells were trying to push. As he turned the corner, he was surprised to see Brienne leaving the room, the serious expression hardening her face and making him wonder what in Seven hells could she discuss with Tywin Lannister. Of course, father wasn’t inclined to give anything more than a few dismissive answers and Jaime couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in his chest. For the whole day, his mind raced with thoughts of what they might have talked about and whether father was plotting something again behind his back. If he tries anything to harm her, Jaime’s phantom hand clenched into a fist. He strode nervously through his chamber, expecting Brienne to join him for a glass of wine like she usually did, but she was not coming.

With every passing minute, his worry grew stronger.

As the night settled, Jaime couldn't ignore the feeling that something was wrong anymore. He left his chambers and strode through the halls of the Red Keep, his legs carrying him to the only place that came to his mind.

As Jaime walked down the stairs leading to the terrace, a cold breeze hit him, making him shiver. The moon was obscured by clouds, casting a dim glow that kept the darkness away just enough to see the narrow path. As Jaime approached the place, the first raindrops hit the stones.

Drawing closer, he saw Brienne standing on the edge, her silhouette illuminated by the faint light of a lamp put on the ground. The wind played with her hair, and droplets of rain have already soaked her thin cloak. But she seemed completely unfazed, standing there alone, in the middle of the night.

He quickened his pace, fearing the worst. “Brienne?” he called out, his voice laced with worry.

She turned to face him, her eyes sorrowful and distant. Jaime felt a pang of guilt for not coming sooner, for not noticing the signs earlier.

“Brienne, what are you doing?” he asked, approaching her carefully.

There was no response.

Jaime didn’t wait. He tackled her down, both of them falling on the wet hard ground.

“Let go of me,” she breathed out, trying to get out of his embrace. Jaime’s arms closed stronger around her, pressing her tightly to his chest.

“I’m here with you,” he whispered into her ear. “I’m here.”

After a few moments of the silent fight, she stilled in his arms. Jaime's heart was pounding in his chest as he held Brienne closer. Just for a second, he was convinced he would lose her. The thought of never seeing her again, of never hearing the warm sound of her voice was too much to bear. And then, as if a veil had lifted, he saw it clearly. He could never let her go.

Her eyes, usually so guarded, were wide open and fixed upon his own. At that moment, he felt as if he was seeing her for the first time. The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. 

So he leaned down and kissed her.

Chapter Text

Jaime was already awake when Brienne opened her eyes. He was laying on his back and staring at the ceiling with an empty gaze. The cold wave of reality crashed over her and the hopelessness of their situation hit stronger than ever. 

She should have known better, she should have been prepared. But of course she wasn’t. The sudden pang in her heart made her want to curl up and disappear into oblivion so she wouldn’t have to face the heartbreak caused by her own choices and the feelings she could no longer deny. 

She should have stayed away. The gods knew she tried. She came to the terrace to clear her thoughts. She desperately needed to catch a breath. The promise she made under the cold green eyes of Lord Tywin Lannister felt like a noose around her neck even if Brienne gave it willingly. Because it was the right thing to do.

To say she was surprised by an unexpected call from Lord Tywin was a big understatement. She entered his office with a racing heart and sweating hands. The former Lord hand wasn't known for inviting people for a carefree chat.

“I didn’t call you here to pry into details of the relationship between you and my son,” Lord Tywin got straight to the point as Brienne took a seat opposite him, fighting the feeling of deja vu of the first interrogation she endured there. “However, there are some matters that need to be clear.”

Brienne stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. Lord Tywin let out a deep sigh, which could mean both, weariness or disapproval of her lack of cooperation.

“The rumours about you started around the time of this unfortunate accident. It became quite clear that Jaime is not indifferent towards you.”

“My lord, you overestimate my importance,” Brienne said carefully. She tried to not shrink under the penetrating gaze of Tywin Lannister.

“I know my son,” Lord Tywin insisted. “I know his faults, especially his recklessness bordering pure stupidity sometimes. I’ve seen him making many mistakes.”

“Like going back for me?”

Lord Tywin’s features twisted into an unpleasant grimace. “He risked his life and sacrificed his sword hand for someone like you.”

“Jaime is a good man.”

“You already told me this. Did you know back then what his main strength and weakness is?” Lord Tywin paused, waiting for her response but Brienne didn’t feel inclined to answer. “He will risk everything for those he cares about.”

Tense silence filled the room.

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m stating the obvious. My son cares about you and he trusts you. Don’t insult me by denying it, my lady.”

“Even if this is true, what do you want from me, my lord?”

“We found ourselves in a dire situation. Jaime’s position wasn’t strong even before this whole mess with the Stormlands unfolded. He was a stubborn fool for allowing this to happen. There is no room for mistakes now. I hope you understand what needs to be done and you won’t stand in the way.”

“I won’t go anywhere unless Jaime sends me away.”

“You don’t understand, my lady. If I wanted you gone, you wouldn’t be sitting here today.” 

Brienne shuddered at the casualness of this statement.

“You will stay here to serve the Crown, Lady Brienne. You were left with nothing but your disgraced name. You don’t have a home you can return to. Your only advantage is that Jaime relies on you. If he fails, it takes all of us down. You surely don’t want that.”

“So you want to use me to manipulate your son?” Brienne asked, suddenly realising what was demanded from her.

“I want you to protect him, especially from himself. If you care for him as he does for you, you know what has to be done. This marriage is crucial. Don’t try to interfere or sabotage for your own selfish reasons.”

Brienne closed her eyes, trying to shake off the memory of the conversation. She understood Lord Tywin’s position and she agreed, no matter how much it hurt. And yet, the very same night she broke the promise. She didn’t find the strength to resist the kiss. She wanted it. The feeling of Jaime’s lips against hers was intoxicating, and she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.

And now she was laying in his bed surrounded by the deep silence, interrupted only by his heavy breathing and wistful sighs. Brienne couldn't bear it any longer. Discretely she looked over the room in search of her clothes scattered all over the spacious bedchamber. There was no way she would be able to pick them up and silently leave without him noticing it. Maybe he won't spare me another look, suddenly this possibility felt even worse than falling under the gaze full of regret.

There will be no fear in me. There will be no pain. Brienne slowly turned away from him and put her feet on cold tiles.

“What are you doing, Brienne?” She felt his gaze on her bare back.

A thick lump blocked any words she should be saying in such a situation.

“Brienne?” The mattress moved under his weight. Brienne pressed the sheets closer to her chest and closed her eyes but it didn't prevent the next words from reaching to her ears. “Are you shying away from me now?” 

“I need to leave.” Her voice was no more than a whisper.

“Why?” 

“It's… I-I just do…” 

“Don't go. Not yet.” He put his hand on her shoulder. Brienne froze. “Please.” 

Was it a desperate note in his voice or his warm touch travelling down her arm, Brienne couldn't tell. But she felt her body moving back into the still warm sheets and turning to face him. Yet her eyes refused to meet with his, choosing to stubbornly study the golden hair covering his chest.

“Did I upset you?”

Brienne shook her head, not trusting her voice not to crack.

“Look at me.” His hand cupped her face, gently compelling her to abide his request. Her eyes met his, full of concern. “You can tell me.” 

“It's really nothing.” 

“Do you regret this night?” 

“No.” 

“Then what?” Jaime insisted, his finger stroking her cheek making her realise the single tear escaped her steel resolve to not cry. “Are you afraid that I dishonoured you?” 

“You didn't. There is no dishonour in loving you.” 

The words escaped before she had a chance to stop them. The words she had never meant to say out loud. Was it even necessary after the night they both let their bodies speak for themselves? But they were in the open now and there was no way to take them back. Brienne’s heart almost stopped waiting for Jaime’s reaction.

“Brienne…” he pulled her into a tight embrace. She felt a delicate kiss on her temple. Another tear fell down her cheek, breaking an invisible dam.

“I love you, Jaime,” Brienne repeated, not able to hold it back anymore. The words were the sweetest sound on her tongue, the poison to bring the downfall for both of them, the melody she wanted to sing for the rest of her days. She needed him to hear it. She needed him to know.

“Brienne…” he breathed out before kissing her again. This time it wasn’t a gentle touch of his lips. He deepened the kiss, drawing her even closer to him. Brienne's body responded eagerly, and she could feel the heat rising between them. It was as if nothing else in the world existed beside them.

When they finally parted, gasping for breath, Jaime held her close and whispered in her ear, “I love you too, Brienne.”

Brienne felt her heart soar with those words, and for a moment, she allowed herself to believe that they could make it work, that they could be happy together. Two people finding peace in each other. She needed him closer, she needed to push away everything waiting for them outside this chamber. The heartbreak, the judgement, the scorn, the upcoming marriage. They needed to talk but they could do it later. Nothing mattered at this moment when she could revel in the warmth of his embrace and the knowledge that they had each other.

“Jaime, wait…” The sudden thought made her freeze her just as Jaime found his way on top of her, settling himself between her inviting legs, his hard cock poking at her entrance.

“What is it, love?”

“You are not wearing a condom.”

“I don't wear anything when I'm with you.”

He buried himself in the nape of her neck, leaving a trail of kisses down to her breast. It took all her willpower to stop him.

“But if there is a child… I'm not… Jaime, I don't think I'm…” 

“Don't worry, I will provide you with moon tea.”

“Thank you,” Brienne sighed with relief. 

“Can we go back to the pleasant part of the activity?”

His smirk was infuriating so Brienne kissed with all passion, mirrored in his every move. 

“Brienne…” Jaime murmured against her lips. 

“Yes?” 

“That thing you've mentioned… From the future.”

“Yeah…” Brienne moaned as she felt his fingers slowly finding their way between her legs.

 “Is it to prevent getting you with a child?”

“Hmmm….”

“And this… how did you call it… condom, is it me who is supposed to wear it?”

“Jaime…” the impatience in her voice quickly turned into a moan as his finger gently entered her.

“Brienne,” Jaime started to move his hand in slow rhythmic strokes, making it all too difficult to focus. “How do you wear that thing?”

“U-use your imagination, Your Grace.”

“I want you to tell me, Wench. Satisfy your king's desire for knowledge.”

 The green eyes were shining with mirth, which she had not seen for so long. He teased her by adding a second finger and Brienne felt the tension steadily growing and pushing her slowly toward the release.

“Tell me,” Jaime whispered in her ear, gently catching her earlobe between his teeth.

“You are supposed to… to wear it…” Brienne stammered as his thumb circled around her clit. She was already so close. Her hands sneaked into Jaime’s silk golden hair to bring his face even closer to her own. 

“On your cock,” she said and brought him into a long fervent kiss to which he responded with eagerness and a low content humm which finally sent her over the edge.

*

Their feelings were no longer a secret. Or was it really a secret? Their hearts knew for a long time and yet they chose silence and wilful blindness until that moment. 

The wedding was coming closer. Brienne as the right hand of the castellan was deeply involved in the organisation of this event. No matter how much it hurt her, she went through her duties and tasks without a word of complaint. During nights all her pain, longing and frustration with the current situation were forgotten in Jaime’s arms. Being with him she felt alive. Kissing him was like breathing. And she wanted to live. She wanted to breathe and she wanted to love him.

Soon the party from Highgarden arrived in the capital. That night Jaime took her more passionately than ever, forgetting himself in her embrace. In the heat of the moment, Brienne almost asked him to escape with her. Somewhere far away, where no one would know them, where they could live together and be happy. 

She didn’t, knowing Jaime would have to refuse. Or if he agreed, he would regret it later. For all his life he escaped his duties and disregarded his responsibilities. He couldn’t do it again, even if there was nothing he wanted more.

A few days before the wedding, Margaery called Brienne to join her on a walk in the gardens. The future queen knew about the affair between the king and the disgraced daughter of a minor house. Everyone in the keep did, the gossip circulated for a long time. Margaery wanted to know how the infamous Kingslayer was. Should she be afraid of him? Was he as vicious as the stories made him be?

“Jaime is a man of honour,” Brienne said, looking a shrewd girl directly in the eyes as if waiting for her to challenge her statement.

Margaery only smiled. “I suppose you know better, Brienne.”

“My lady, I-”

“I don’t care what your relationship with him is.” Her tone was unnaturally sweet. “As long as I am the queen and I bear an heir. The only thing I require from you is to stay away from me and keep your affair discreet. If that’s still possible.”

Brienne was banned from attending the ceremony and deep inside she was relieved she didn’t have to be there and watch it.

The night before the royal wedding, Brienne received a note asking her to wear a dress that septa Donyse made for her and to go to the terrace when the keep falls asleep. 

Jaime was waiting for her there. He kissed her and said the words. He was hers and she was his.

“You can't be Queen at my side but you'll always be the Queen of my heart.”

She was his and he was hers.

The next day, King Jaime, first of his name, married lady Margaery of House Tyrell. He did everything that was required of him. He wedded her and bedded her, thinking about another woman who cried herself to sleep in her small cold room.

The king spent almost all his nights with his lover except for those he was required to share the queen's bed. He stopped the moment queen Margaery announced she was expecting. In several months she gave birth to his child. Jaime spent this night in Brienne’s embrace, and she soothed all the fears and doubts that lived within him since Joffrey’s death.

The next morning, Prince Arthur, a healthy boy with a lock of brown hair and green eyes, was presented to the court as the heir to the throne. 

After he was born, the relationship between the king and the queen went from cold to non-existent. Both of them were preoccupied with their affairs and tolerating each other's presence only for the appearance of the court. 

Due to the tension in the keep, Jaime insisted Brienne move to the house in the city where he visited her wherever he could. Brienne didn’t mind leaving the Red Keep. She was tired of the politics of the court. Being in her own house meant not seeing Jaime as often as she used to but it gave her the opportunity to dedicate her time to helping the poor and people in need. Especially Brienne cared for the fate of women. With Jaime’s help, she established her first charity, where women who due to different circumstances found themselves on the streets of King’s Landing could find shelter, a hot meal and an opportunity to earn for living other than brothel. 

Jaime's visits became rarer over time. He took his duties very seriously to the extent that even Brienne didn't quite expect him to. As his son grew, he tended to spend more time with the boy, afraid to repeat the mistakes he made with his other children who chose to live in Casterly Rock instead of returning to King’s Landing. Brienne could not resent him for that as she knew that the shadow of Joffrey and the guilt were still tormenting him inside no matter how well he tried to hide it. She learned to treasure those quiet moments with him even if it never felt like enough.

When Prince Arthur was five, queen Margaery died giving birth to a dark-haired girl. The rumour immediately ran around about the child not being the king's but Jaime recognised her as Princess Olenna. 

He did not grieve after his wife. 

There was no time for it as a messenger in a black cloak demanded an audience.

Chapter Text

After long months of preparation, King Jaime, first of his name, left King’s Landing with the gathered army and went north. Despite lingering doubts about the gravity of the threat, he was still the protector of the realm. If the Night’s Watch was to be believed, the situation was alarming and would be getting even more dangerous with time.

He left the capital with a heavy heart. After long and exhausting discussions and fights with Brienne, she quite suddenly agreed to stay in the Red Keep. The change of her mind was unexpected and surprisingly unnerving, considering the fact that it was Jaime who insisted she should stay, while she stubbornly insisted on going with him and fighting side by side. As much as he hated being parted from her and his son who he grew to love, he could not allow to put them in danger. No one knew for sure what waited for them in the north and being there with him was everything but safe.

The army moved slowly with carts loaded with the only weapon that according to the Night’s Watch could defeat the dead. Fire. The great amounts of wildfire ordered by the Mad King and stored under the city for years. It was Brienne’s idea to use it. 

“I was thinking about it. There is a way to make it safe for transportation,” she said during dinner they had in the cosy room of her house. According to her, the dangerous substance could be solidified with sediment found at the bottom of lakes, rivers and seas. Diatomaceous earth, she called it. “I don’t know the exact protocol and proportions it should be mixed together. They didn’t teach us that at school but I can assure you that it works. The scientist who invented that became famous. And rich.”

Jaime always listened with curiosity whenever Brienne mentioned something from her past life. He always had so many questions but Brienne was reluctant to answer those which in her opinion could cause unintentional damage to the future. It was rare occasions when Jaime managed to coax her to talk about her other self, the memories, past hopes and dreams.

“It’s been so many years, Jaime. My memories faded. They are like this dream that you know you had but you can’t recall the details. And I still wonder what happened to my family after I was gone. I’d give everything to see mum again, and dad, and Ari, Alys and Gal. To know they are alright and tell them not to worry much about me.”

“I am sorry you’ve lost your home.”

“I found one here with you.”

*

The Alchemists’ Guild needed several trials to be able to produce the stable substance Brienne described. 

Everything was ready for departure.

“If we fail to stop them, if there is any threat to King's Landing, take the children and everyone you can and go south, from there to Essos if necessary. The escape routes will be ready,” Jaime said to her before leaving for the unknown. “I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you.” 

Jaime left. Brienne stayed. 

Once again, she moved into the Red Keep, to be closer to the children put into her care.  

The shy timid boy always greeted her with a tiny smile, asking when his father would be back. Brienne wished she knew. Together they wrote letters to him and when the responses came, Brienne would help Arthur decipher Jaime’s atrocious scrawl. 

Some of the letters however, she was reading alone, in secluded parts of gardens or on the terrace that witnessed the development of their relationship. 

When this particular parchment came, she could not hold back the tears that gathered in her eyes.

“My love, my moonlight.

My most sincere friend, my confidant, my very existence, my one and only love.

The most beautiful among the beautiful…

My summertime, my daytime, my sweetheart, my mystery… 

My sweetest maiden, the one only who does not distress me in this world…

My wench of magnificent strength, my love of the gentlest touch, my love of astonishing eyes…

My only Queen, the Queen of my heart.

I close my eyes and I see you

I, lover of the tormented heart, Jaime, just Jaime, I am happy in your arms.”

It wasn’t the first time she had read that letter. She had seen the exact same words in the distant future behind bulletproof glass. Among the few of their other letters that survived to modern times, this was one of the most valuable artefacts of the Goldenhand era, confirming his love for a mysterious woman Vesper.

As a girl, Brienne often dreamed someone would write such words to her. It has never been more than a foolish fantasy but there she was. There was no more doubt about it. The mysterious recipient of the most famous love letter was her all along. Her. Brienne. 

On rare occasions, Lord Tywin Lannister joined Brienne, Arthur and little Olenna for a walk around the gardens. The old lord was fond and overly protective of his only legitimate grandson and in Jaime's absence, he took it upon himself to educate and prepare the boy to take over the throne one day. 

Brienne didn't have much power to object, even if she didn't like it. Just like Lord Tywin once said, her only advantage was having Jaime on her side. And he was far away at the edge of the world.

“I am not your enemy, Lady Brienne.” Lord Tywin said once as they observed the prince throwing snowballs with other children. “I wish no harm to the boy. I believe I've learnt something from my mistakes.” 

“Hopefully, my lord. I don't want the enmity between us either. Jaime entrusted me with his children and I have only their well-being in mind.”

“Then it seems our goals align.”

“Only my views on the means to achieve them differ quite considerably.” 

The corners of his lips twitched. If Brienne didn't know the old lord better, she would think it was a failed attempt to smile.

“Have a good day, my lady. Don't tire yourself out.” 

It was a difficult time of uncertainty and the sense of unknown danger lingering in the air. Days were getting shorter. The world was drowning in darkness. The sun was pale and distant, barely rising over the horizon until one day it disappeared completely. The chilly wind cut to the bones. The supplies were growing thin and the feeling of utter hopelessness and fear crept into people’s hearts.

The letters from the North stopped coming, yet Brienne still waited, for a miracle perhaps.

When the sea started to cover with a thin layer of ice, she realised she could not postpone the escape with children any longer. 

The next day sun appeared over the horizon.

Jaime returned after almost three years, bringing with him the first breath of spring. Battered and exhausted with only a tiny group of survivors left of his army, he was welcomed as a hero. Those who returned were never eager to talk about the horrors they witnessed in the North. Despite the hard-earned victory, nightmares haunted them till their last days.

Jaime found Brienne at her designated quarters in the Maidenvault. She was not alone. Two identical girls with golden locks and big blue eyes were running around the room, fighting for a figure of a wooden knight. 

“So this is the actual reason you decided to stay?” Jaime asked after they put overexcited Andrianne and Rohanne to bed.

“Yes. I am sorry I didn’t tell you.”

He pulled her closer into his embrace. It was no time for arguments and anger. He was finally home.

*

For the next years, Brienne chose to stay in the keep, raising her daughters, running charities and helping the people. Among the nobles, she was known as the mistress of the king. The title never ceased to evoke derisive smiles, yet Brienne couldn’t help but feel a sense of power that came with her position as the king's confidant. She had his ear and she used it to advocate for the less fortunate, to plead their cases and to fight for their rights. But she also knew that this power was her weakness. Despite her good intentions, some resented her influence over the king and given the opportunity, would gladly see her fall.

Being with Jaime, eventually, she had to learn to understand the complex web of political alliances and power struggles that always surrounded the throne. She tried to stay away from the court as much as she could and turn her focus on those in need instead. To help them with food and shelter, to provide basic healthcare and education, to improve living conditions… There was so much to do. And too much resistance from society without the concept of basic human rights. 

Jaime always supported Brienne in her efforts. He himself worked hard on keeping the kingdoms in peace and prosperity. Alongside, he tried to push forward reforms of the justice system which wasn’t an easy task considering the reluctance of many lords to give away their power. But Jaime was determined. His first step was to standardise the laws across the kingdoms and gather them into the universal code of law. He also planned to establish a centralised justice system with impartial judges.

“There can’t be justice when it’s influenced by personal relationship and bias,” he said to Brienne in the seclusion of his study after another unsuccessful meeting with the small council.

*

Forty years have passed. 

Their hair turned grey and the wrinkles on their faces told the story of joyous and sorrowful times, laughter and tears, victories and defeats. 

The game of cyvasse gradually replaced their sparring sessions and slow walks through the gardens tired more than lively races through the fields used to in the past.

For the last year, Jaime’s health significantly deteriorated.

For the last week, he hasn’t left the confines of his chambers. 

Brienne was there beside him, holding his hand. The simplest gesture between two people who had been together through ups and down, the bond between them only getting stronger.

Now death was waiting at the doorstep to tear them apart.

Jaime knew he was dying. But he was not alone. His family was with him. 

Arthur, his son and heir, capable ambitious man who in recent years had taken over the most tedious ruling duties to relieve his father from the burden he carried for decades.

Their twin daughters, Andrianne and Rohanne, now grown women with families of their own. Tommen and Myrcella were also there. The relationship with them was always complicated, tainted with hurt, bitterness and resentment. Nevertheless, they came from Westerlands to say the last goodbye.

Jaime’s time was running out. He turned to Brienne. His voice was weak and breathing laboured. Each word required a greater effort than the last one. Brienne’s eyes filled with tears as he thanked her for all those years and the happiness and fulfilment she brought into his life.

She held his hand tighter, not ready to let go.

Outside the keep, the people of King's Landing have gathered, burning candles in their hands. They came to pay their respects to the man they once feared, but who had become the beloved king.

At dawn, bells began to ring the slow and dolorous song. Goldenhand the Just passed away.

Chapter Text

Goldenhand the Just died peacefully in the arms of the woman he loved after sixty-three years of reign. For the last forty years, he passed many laws and reforms, the most important concerning the independent justice system and the status of women in society. He was beloved by the smallfolks for peace, stability and abundance and regarded with begrudging respect by the nobles. 

His only legitimate son Arthur ascended to the throne. He continued his father's legacy and implemented further reforms that strengthened the realm. His reign was marked by peace and prosperity. 

After the death of Jaime Lannister, Lady Brienne stayed at court at the request of the new king to whom she was like a mother. She died a few years later, surrounded by her family. Her efforts to make King’s Landing a better place did not go unnoticed and her selfless dedication to helping those in need inspired many. She became a symbol of hope and kindness in the city and was called the Evening Star of Tarth, even though she had never formally inherited the title of Evenstar which went to her half-brother. At the king’s order, she was buried alongside her beloved in the crypt hidden in the gardens built in her honour. 

The memory of Goldenhand the Just and Evening Star lived among the people of King's Landing and other kingdoms. The love and dedication they had for each other were immortalized in songs and stories, while King Arthur ensured that all evidence of his father's dishonourable past was secretly destroyed.

Years later, the first ships from the west reached Westeros. Nation of adventurers with a love for storytelling quickly picked up local tales and legends. Some of them stayed in Westeros, establishing their own communities and some travelled wide and far, braving the open sea and exploring new lands, collecting goods to trade and stories to tell. They spread the legend about the just king with the golden hand and his love for Evening Star, Vesper in their language, giving it life on its own.

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Over a thousand years later, Lady Brienne of Tarth opened her eyes only to find herself in an unfamiliar white room, on an odd bed and looking at something peculiar standing beside it and making a strange high-pitched sound.