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She had failed to uphold the oaths she had sworn. She had sworn to protect Renly and he had died in her arms. She had sworn to avenge him, yet Stannis Baratheon still lived. She had sworn to take Jaime safe to King's Landing and he had lost his sword hand. She had sworn to find Sansa Stark, and there too she had failed.

Brienne swore another oath. Though she would have no honor left if she failed again, the thought of doing what she'd sworn to do made her heart ache.

-break-

Jaime rubbed his bearded cheek. A slap was not what he had expected. Though he was lucky the wench had merely slapped him rather than punching him with all her strength. "I was not jesting, Brienne. If you don't want to do it, I can ask Ser Addam."

Brienne's eyes filled with tears. She had been behaving strangely since joining up with him on his return to King's Landing, brooding one moment and weepy the next. Jaime supposed it was her moon's blood.

He really didn't want to involve Addam Marbrand or any other man in this. It was humiliating enough being unable to fight his own battle, but at least appointing a woman in his stead would turn the tables on Boros Blunt. It would shame Blunt to fight a woman, and shame him even more when that woman laid him out on his back. Jaime ineeded/i Brienne. "Though you did swear to protect me once."

The appeal to her honor worked, as he knew it would. Her hand went to the hilt of the sword he'd given her. "I will defend you, Jaime."

A crowd gathered to watch in the yard of the Red Keep. On the rare occasion knights of the Kingsguard had challenged each other to personal duels, the White Book stated that they had fought behind closed doors with only their sworn brothers as witnesses. However Jaime knew that word of this fight would have been sure to spread anyway, thanks to Osmund Kettleblack's mouth. It was best to make it a public spectacle and appear to treat it lightly.

Jaime did not like to think how close he'd come to being skewered by Blunt before he'd taunted the man into making a formal challenge rather than attacking him on the spot. He stared bitterly at his golden hand glittering in the sunlight. Before he lost his hand he could have killed the likes of Boros Blunt with his eyes closed, but now he hid behind protocol and a wench.

"I'll not fight a woman," Ser Boros declared. "It is not honorable."

"It was honorable enough for you to beat Sansa Stark," Jaime replied. "Tell me, does the dishonor come now because this woman is bigger than you?" He could not see her face behind her visor, but Jaime could well imagine how that bit of news would enrage the wench. He almost pitied Blunt.

Ser Boros made no reply. He lowered the visor of his helm and drew his sword. Oathkeeper was already in Brienne's hand and she strode forward to meet her foe.

Jaime sauntered between them. "I almost forgot," he said, speaking loud enough for the crowd to hear. "It is customary for the champion to fight wearing a favor." Forcing himself to smile, he tore a strip from the bottom of his white cloak and tied it around Brienne's arm. The spectators laughed uproariously. He would have to make sure later that the wench understood it was not her he meant to mock.

The duel was brief. Boros Blunt had never been more than adequate with a sword and on top of that he was past his prime and out of shape. Brienne was skilled and young and strong. She easily countered his attacks and soon she was driving him around and around the yard. Yet Ser Boros refused to yield, even after he lost his shield and ended up scrambling in the dirt.

"Yield," Brienne urged. The point of her sword was at Blunt's throat.

Ser Boros responded by drawing his dagger and swiping at the back of Brienne's knee. The Maid of Tarth fell to her knees atop Blunt and plunged her sword down into his visor.

"Well done, Lady Brienne." Jaime extended his hand to help her to her feet.

Brienne ignored his outstretched arm. She rose, pulled Oathkeeper out of Boros Blunt, and stumbled away. Jaime followed her.

"I believe you've won yourself a kiss at the very least."

This time she did hit him with a closed fist, knocking him down on his arse. She took off her helm and shook her hair forward to obscure the scar on her cheek. "Please don't. Not now."

The wench was weeping again. Jaime deserved the pain in his jaw. "I apologize, my lady."

Brienne wiped her eyes with her hand and turned her back to him.

With Ser Arys and Ser Balon in Dorne and Ser Loras at Dragonstone, Jaime was in need of someone to defend the two queens. He could not wield a sword properly, and the other three knights of the Kingsguard were nearly as worthless. He had had the idea to replace one of them with a better fighter, but Boros Blunt had responded to Jaime's suggestion that he retire by drawing his sword. Well, Blunt was dead now and that was one problem solved. Jaime could think of no better replacement than the person who had killed him.

"How would you like a white cloak?"

Brienne spun back to face him. Jaime worried that she would strike him again or shove the sword she still clutched through his chest. But she only stared at him until Jaime repeated his offer.

"I am a woman."

A thousand gapes came to mind, but he knew better than to provoke her at the moment. "There is no actual rule against naming a woman to the Kingsguard." Only because it was too absurd a possibility; because there had never been a woman like her before.

"I am not a knight."

"You needn't be. Cersei set that precedent when she gave the Hound a white cloak. You guarded my life most diligently. I don't doubt you will do the same for the king."

"I cannot."

"Brienne…"

"No! Please, just leave me be." She changed her course and headed to the stables. "I have to go." He tried to persuade her, but the stubborn wench would not relent. She left before night fell.

It hurt to watch her go, to his surprise. He was overwhelmed by the imprisoned queens, the uncontrollable Faith, the little king crying for his mother and his wife, the city's dwindling food supplies, and everything else. There was no one else he wanted to help him bear the weight of it all. Jaime could not fault Brienne for leaving, but he stood there for a long time, hoping she would return.

-break-

She could redeem her honor some other way. She would go North. She would find Sansa Stark and keep her safe, or she would find Stannis Baratheon and kill him. Anything was better than killing Jaime or living as bereft of honor as she had once accused him of being.