"You look great," Jaime couldn't resist joking, as was his habit, and burst out laughing as soon as Ser Loras left the room. "The dress suits you." He laughed again.
"I know exactly how it fits me," Brienne snapped. Strangely, Jaime's smirk hurt her — and hurt far more than she cared to admit. And it hurt in a way she had long since stopped thinking about. His words stung her as a woman, though she knew he spoke the absolute truth. Despite all the seamstress's efforts, the new dress fit her about as well as a saddle on a cow.
Jaime invited her to sit and poured her a glass of wine.
Brienne couldn't help staring at the man. Before her stood a true lord from a song — strong and unmistakably handsome. Now, fresh, clean-shaven, well-groomed, clad in fine clothing, he looked so manly and so distant that her heart trembled.
Don't be foolish, she told herself. He's as beautiful on the outside as he is ugly on the inside. He's a Lannister — a lying, cunning Kingslayer.
With each passing day, such reminders helped less and less. On the road, she had learned other sides of him. And realized that he wasn't quite what she had thought. Or rather — not entirely.
"Let me ask you — what are your plans?" Jaime sprawled comfortably in his chair, stretched out his muscular legs, and took a sip from his cup.
"If you haven't noticed, I'm in prison," she said, trying to lace her voice with as much sarcasm as possible.
"That's all in the past. As of today, you're free. So what are you going to do?"
The words pleased her more than she expected. Yet she knew that sooner or later it would all have to end this way.
"While I was in prison, I came up with something."
"Gods! Did you have a coherent thought for once?" He grinned. "Don't be shy, woman, speak up. You're better at swinging a sword."
"Have you forgotten the conditions under which Lady Catelyn released you?" she asked. She was pleased to see his smirk disappear.
"No," he said shortly.
"Well, I haven't forgotten either. I intend to serve Sansa."
"Here? In the Red Keep?" His voice turned mocking again, and the smirk returned. "Or do you plan to carry her chamber pot? Why in the Seven would she need you here?"
"What, don't other ladies have their own bodyguards?" she replied with a question.
Jaime considered that for a moment.
"Damn it, I was still hoping you'd go look for Arya," the Kingslayer finally said.
"I'd rather serve here for now. If she'll have me, of course," she took her first sip of wine. "We'll see what happens."
"Well, I figured as much." Jaime drummed his fingers on the table, then made up his mind. With a sigh, he stood, crossed the room, and pulled a long bundle wrapped in thick cloth from another table. "This is for you."
"What is it?"
"A sword, of course!"
"And you think you can buy me with this?" She didn't even think to pick it up. Her voice dripped with open contempt.
"Oh, you're a fool, woman! It seems I greatly overestimated your ability to think," Jaime said in disappointment. "It's just a sword. And some money in this bag. You'll need it at first." He raised a hand, seeing her anger rise. "You can pay me back when you can. I'm lending it to you. Is that clear?"
Brienne swallowed her irritation. Well, he was right about one thing — she had no armor, no weapons, and no coin to buy them. She wanted to serve Lady Sansa as a warrior. But without proper equipment, she was far from one.
"All right, I accept. Thank you." She nodded, took the bundle from his hands, and unwrapped it.
"I think it'll suit you," Jaime said thoughtfully. "I chose a sword to fit your stature. Forged in Oldtown, bearing a master's mark — a fine blade. Though I wanted to give you another one."
"Another one?" Brienne swung the sword deftly, made several quick strikes, and shifted into a defensive stance. The blade was perfectly balanced and well suited for her body size and weight. A fleeting, painful thought crossed her mind that now, in this ridiculous dress, with a sword in hand, she looked even worse than usual.
"Yes, this one." Jaime's expression shifted strangely as he picked up another bundle, unwrapped it, and drew a second sword from its sheath. Dark red metal flashed — and Brienne shivered involuntarily. She would have recognized Valyrian steel with her eyes closed. Her father owned a similar blade at home — though with a slightly different shade — the Just Maiden.
The Kingslayer held the sword out in his left hand and stared at the blood-black metal for a long time.
"I wouldn't take it!"
"You would — and you couldn't refuse," Jaime frowned. "But I changed my mind. Something has changed. You don't need to know what. I would've given it to you anyway, if you'd chosen to search for Arya. But you decided to stay in the Red Keep… It wouldn't be wise for you to walk around with a Valyrian steel sword everyone knows belongs to the Lannisters."
Brienne didn't understand much of what he meant, but she simply nodded.
"If you need anything, let me know and I'll try to help. After all, I did take an oath," the Kingslayer said casually — but she knew such words carried meant a lot.
That was essentially the end of their conversation. Jaime wished her luck in his usual sarcastic tone, and she set off toward the city.
She walked through the corridors, then out of the Red Keep and into the bustling streets, wondering the whole time what kind of man Jaime Lannister truly was — and why everything between them had unfolded this way.
Brienne did not like to deceive herself, nor could she. She had always known exactly what she wanted, what she must do, and how to achieve it. Deceit and cunning were not in her nature. Truth, courage, and honor were her three guiding stars. As long as she did not betray her ideals and values, nothing truly terrible could happen to her.
(End of Chapter)
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