Chapter Seventeen

Brienne stood by the window in her private chamber, staring out over Blackwater Bay. She'd had a trying morning, and even though she was supposed to be seeing to the day's correspondence, she couldn't seem to focus on work.

Brienne was used to being mocked and ridiculed by men. It had been a daily occurrence in her life since earliest memory. She had always been ungainly and awkward, never pretty or soft or delicate. Men laughed at her; women avoided her. It had been a very lonely life. But once Brienne had been knighted, once she'd been appointed Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, she had expected that to change, but it hadn't. Ser Bronn took great pleasure in taunting her whenever he could, and that morning, even the rest of the small council had joined in on the joke. Of course, they had teased Jaime just as much as they had teased her, but it still hurt. And now, even half an hour later, her cheeks stung with heat at the memory.

A gentle knock at the door pulled Brienne back to the present, and she inhaled a deep, slow breath, determined to calm her nerves. She was sure her face was red, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she squared her shoulders, turned around, and said, "Come in."

The door creaked open, and Jaime took a tentative step inside. "May I have a moment of your time, Ser Brienne?"

Brienne inched her spine even straighter, desperate to appear in control of the situation even though nothing could have been further from the truth. "I am very busy, my lord. I do not have a moment to spare."

"And I understand that," he said, taking another step forward, "but I haven't come here to talk to you on my own behalf. I am here with a message from the Hand of the King."

Of course he was. Brienne wasn't the least bit surprised that Tyrion had sent Jaime to her on some ridiculous mission. He seemed determined to push the two of them together, no matter what the cost.

But Brienne couldn't say any such thing. Tyrion was the Hand of the King, and at that moment, she valued her position more than she valued her pride. "In that case," Brienne said, "come in and shut the door."

"Thank you, my lady."

Brienne was unnerved by Jaime's choice of address. My lady sounded far too intimate, and she wished he would go back to calling her Ser Brienne.

Jaime closed the door behind him and moved farther into the room while Brienne crossed to her desk. She lowered herself into her chair, inviting Jaime to take the seat opposite her. He sat down, his posture almost as rigid as her own, and met her eyes with startling directness.

Brienne fought the urge to break his gaze. Instead, she raised her chin a little higher and said, "Why has Lord Tyrion sent you?"

"Last night, you asked for his advice regarding a potential husband for Queen Sansa. Tyrion has made his decision, and he asked me to deliver it to you."

"And why didn't he come himself?" Brienne already knew the answer, but she asked anyway, wondering what kind of excuse Jaime would give her.

"Do you want the official version, or do you want the truth?"

"I always want the truth, even if it's painful."

Jaime flinched, and Brienne couldn't help but feel a hint of satisfaction. Clearly, he'd understood the meaning behind her words.

"Tyrion may be the second most powerful man in Westeros," Jaime said, "he may even be the most powerful man in Westeros, but when it comes to love, he is extremely vulnerable. He didn't have the heart or the courage to come himself. He's ashamed of what he feels, of what he hopes for, and he knew he could never discuss the matter with you without betraying the true depth of his feelings for Sansa Stark. So he asked me to come in his stead, to save what little is left of his pride."

Brienne sighed heavily. Although she had assumed that Tyrion had sent Jaime as some kind of ploy to push them together, she could see now that that wasn't the case. Jaime's words were sincere, the pain in his eyes was sincere. He felt for his brother, grieved for him, and he was just trying to do what he thought was right. It was obvious that Jaime didn't want to be there any more than she did and that they were both just trying to do their duty.

"Very well, then," Brienne replied, her tone softening just a bit. "And what did Lord Tyrion send you to report?"

"After examining all the names and debating their worthiness, he believes, from an objective standpoint, that Gendry Baratheon would be the best match for Sansa Stark."

Brienne tensed. Sansa had told her what had happened between Gendry and Arya, and Brienne knew that Tyrion had chosen the worst possible name on the list. She almost said as much, but she held back, wanting to hear the reasoning behind Tyrion's choice.

"And why Gendry Baratheon?" Brienne asked, struggling to keep her voice even.

"Because he was the only man on the list that Tyrion thought worthy of her."

Brienne snickered, unable to stop herself. "Worthy of her? How can a man who's in love with her sister be worthy of her?"

Jaime shifted awkwardly in his seat. "I think Tyrion's opinion on the matter is that, given enough time, Gendry Baratheon will be able to overcome his feelings for Arya Stark and devote himself to Queen Sansa."

"Ha!" Brienne laughed, not even trying to hide her disdain. "That's not how love works. Maybe that's how it works for you and your brother, but that isn't how it works for the rest of us."

"That's not how it works for me," Jaime said, his voice low and soft.

"Isn't it? I thought your devotion was as fickle as the wind, swaying back and forth, never fixed for any great length of time."

"That's not fair."

"Of course it's fair. Just because it's so easy for you to forget those you've cared for, does not mean that Lord Gendry will be able to forget Lady Arya. He loves her deeply, and that love will not fade with time, it will not disappear so that he can happily marry her sister."

Jaime leaned forward in his chair, moving in closer. "I haven't forgotten anything," he said, his words thick with emotion. "I haven't forgotten a single moment that you and I spent together. Not our time on the road, not our time in your bed. I've never forgotten, Brienne, and I've never stopped loving you."

Brienne's breath caught in her throat, and her whole body trembled. Despite her best intentions, tears stung her eyes, and she fought to hold them back. Jaime had never confessed his love for her before, not even in the dark, quiet hours they had spent alone in her room. But now, he spoke the words with a passion that she couldn't ignore. He meant what he had said. He loved her, or at least, he believed he loved her, and that was more than Brienne had ever expected.

Brienne inhaled a long, slow breath, willing her body under control. For one brief, glorious moment, she allowed herself to believe that it was all true, that Jaime loved her and her alone. But she knew it was just a fantasy, a dream. It was easy for Jaime to say that he loved her now that Cersei was gone. She was his second choice, and she knew she deserved better than that.

"And yet," Brienne said, "you're never going to love me as much as you loved her."

Jaime pulled back, clearly startled by her reply. He had just poured out his heart to her, and no doubt, he had expected her to rejoice in his confession. "Why must you compare?" he asked, his tone almost hollow.

Brienne laughed, her whole body shaking with the effort. "Why must I compare? Because you couldn't admit that you loved me while she still lived, and that tells me everything I need to know about the place I hold in your heart."

"No, it doesn't," Jaime said, his voice hard.

"Yes, it does. And if you're through delivering your message, Lord Jaime, I would like you to leave."

Jaime looked away for a moment, and Brienne could see his anger seething just beneath the surface. He wanted to say something but was having difficulty finding the words. Whatever it was, she had no desire to hear it. She just wanted him to leave.

After a long silence, Jaime finally turned back to Brienne. There was still anger in his eyes, and she knew he had no intention of leaving until he'd said his piece.

"Do you want to know why I didn't tell you that I loved you when we were together back at Winterfell?" Jaime asked.

"Not particularly."

"Because I was afraid."

"Afraid?" Brienne laughed again. "Of what? Of me?"

"Yes, of you."

"That's absurd."

"Is it? Is it really?" Jaime moved in close again. "Do you have any idea how many women I have loved in my life?"

Brienne inched back in her chair, desperate to put more space between them. The sincerity in Jaime's eyes was making her uncomfortable, and she suddenly felt quite vulnerable. "I honestly don't care."

"Two. My sister and you."

Brienne looked away, unable to meet his gaze any longer. Hearing Jaime openly admit that he had been in love with his own sister was highly unsettling. Of course, Brienne had already known—everyone in Westeros knew—but hearing the words somehow made it worse.

"Brienne, look at me," Jaime urged.

"I can't."

"Fine. But I'm going to say what I have to say anyway, whether you can bear to look at me or not. I have loved two women in my life. Just two. My sister and you. There has been no one else. Not even in a physical sense. I was always true to Cersei. Always. Even when she was married to Robert. Even when she was sleeping with our cousin Lancel and gods only know who else. I was always true to her, her devoted and loyal servant. She was my world, and I would have done anything for her."

"Yes, I know," Brienne replied, still refusing to look at him. "You read me the litany of your sins the night you left Winterfell. I know the things you did for Cersei. I know how pathetic your love for her was."

"It was pathetic. You're right. I adored her, worshipped her. And I thought that would always be the case. I thought there wasn't a single woman in all the world who could steal my heart from her, but I was wrong."

Brienne knew Jaime wanted her to react to his words, but she refused to do so. She kept her eyes focused on the wall beside her, determined to deny him what he wanted.

When she didn't reply, Jaime continued, "I thought Cersei was the one, the one the gods had destined me to love since the day I was born. But then I met you, Brienne of Tarth, and I realized what a fool I had been." His voice softened, and there was a longing in his words that made Brienne's heart flutter beneath her breast. "I was afraid to tell you that I loved you because I'd never confessed my feelings to anyone before. Not like that. Cersei had always known that I loved her. In fact, she had almost commanded me to love her. But beyond that, I had never known any other woman, had never sworn myself to anyone true and virtuous, and I feared that if I did, it would all fall apart."

It was becoming more and more difficult for Brienne to keep herself from looking at Jaime. Her hands trembled against the arms of her chair, and her pulse quickened. She wanted to believe every word he had said, but she was afraid of being played for a fool. She had been a fool for Jaime Lannister once; she didn't want to be a fool for him again.

Brienne finally lost the battle with herself and turned toward Jaime, finding his eyes transfixed on her face. They were so warm and open and full of pain, and all she wanted to do was comfort him, but she wasn't quite ready for that yet. Her wounds were still far too fresh for her to just forgive him. Everything was happening so fast, and she needed to pull herself back before she ran headlong into heartbreak again.

"Do you mean that?" Brienne asked. "Or are you just saying all of this because you think it's what I want to hear?"

"I have no reason to lie. I know that you and I can never be together again. I know you've sworn yourself to the Kingsguard. I just wanted you to know how I felt, to know that I did love you—I do love you—and that that will never change, despite the fact that we can never be together."

Brienne eyed Jaime thoughtfully for a moment. She was still surprised that he didn't know that King Bran had changed the vows for the Kingsguard. She'd been certain that Tyrion would have told him by now. But perhaps this was just another one of Tyrion's manipulations. Perhaps he had kept it from Jaime on purpose, for his own twisted reasons. Whatever the case, Brienne wondered if it was time Jaime learned the truth.

"And what if I wasn't sworn to the Kingsguard?" she asked. "What if I were free? What then?"

Jaime shook his head as if he found the question absurd. "Then, I would do everything in my power to win you back. I would devote myself night and day to atoning for my sins, to convincing you to give me another chance. I love you, Brienne, and if there were any way for us to be together, I would fight for it. I would fight for us. I would do everything I could to show you just how much I love you, and I would never let you go."

Brienne pushed herself up from her chair, and Jaime quickly scurried to his feet.

"In that case, Lord Jaime, I look forward to seeing just how convincing you can be. If you want to win me back, you may try. Just make sure that your efforts are sincere because, if they're not, I have no problem challenging you to single combat to defend my honor."

Jaime stared at her in disbelief. "What . . . what about the Kingsguard?"

Brienne fought back a knowing smile. "You needn't worry about the Kingsguard. If you can prove your worthiness, I shall leave my post. But only if you can prove it. Now," Brienne said, her tone hardening, "if you don't mind, I have a lot of work to do this morning. I will let Queen Sansa know Lord Tyrion's answer, though I can assure you she will not be happy with it."

But Jaime didn't answer. He just stood there staring at Brienne, his mouth moving but his voice silent.

"Really, my lord, I am quite busy. Please shut the door on your way out."

Brienne sat down and reached for her quill and a blank piece of parchment. She could still feel Jaime's eyes upon her as she concentrated on dipping her pen in the inkpot. Without looking up, she asked, "Is there something else?"

"No . . . no," Jaime stammered.

"In that case, I will see you tomorrow at the small council meeting."

Brienne pressed the nub of her pen against the parchment and began to compose her letter to Sansa. Nearly a full minute passed before Jaime finally moved away from the desk. Brienne listened as he crossed the room and slipped out into the hallway, quietly closing the door behind him.

The instant Jaime was gone, Brienne dropped her quill and slumped against the back of her chair. She stared at the door, allowing a small smile to curve her lips. Jaime Lannister loved her, truly loved her, and she hoped it was only a matter of time before he was finally able to prove his worthiness.