Brienne swung her sword at Podrick, metal clashing against metal as he parried her attack. They were in the training yard beyond the White Sword Tower, sparring in the early afternoon sun. Winter had been blessedly brief, lasting no longer than the Night King had lasted at the Battle of Winterfell, and already it felt like spring. The fighting did something to alleviate Brienne's fury, but it wasn't quite enough.
After her encounter with Jaime, she had gone to her bedchamber to deal with her emotions in private. She'd broken a few things – a water jug, a goblet, a couple of plates – nothing important, but no matter how many things she'd thrown, she hadn't been able to work out her frustrations. Eventually, she'd left her room and gone in search of Podrick, hoping to exorcise her anger in the training yard.
Brienne couldn't remember ever having been so angry. She had thought she'd gotten over Jaime's betrayal, but she couldn't have been more wrong. Seeing him had brought it all back. She still loved him, of course, but she hated herself for it. Even though she was happy that Jaime was alive, she secretly wished he had just stayed away.
Podrick lunged forward and struck Brienne's flank. He instantly retreated, bowing his head in apology. "I'm sorry, my lady, I—"
"Don't apologize, Pod. You're a knight now. You don't ever have to apologize for being good at what you do."
He raised his head, meeting her eyes again. "Yes, I know. It's just . . ."
"It's just what?"
"You're usually more focused," Podrick replied. "I can't remember the last time I caught you off-guard. It's because of him, isn't it?"
"Because of who?" Brienne asked, lowering her sword.
"Ser Jaime. I know he's alive, and I know he visited you this morning. Obviously, his visit unsettled you. Perhaps we should put off sparring for another time."
Brienne stared at Podrick in stunned silence. She had assumed that, other than her and Tyrion, no one knew that Jaime was still alive. "How . . . how long have you known?"
Podrick offered her a half-hearted shrug. "Since last night. Lord Tyrion swore me to secrecy though. He had me show Ser Jaime to his chamber, but he wouldn't let me talk to him, or to you."
Brienne exhaled a defeated sigh and finally sheathed Oathkeeper. "I think you're right, Pod. I think that's enough sparring for one day."
Podrick sheathed his own sword but made no move to leave. "Are . . . are you all right, my lady?" he asked, his voice soft, hesitant.
Brienne nodded. "I will be."
"But you're not now?"
Brienne didn't want to talk about Jaime with anyone, not even Podrick. As far as she was concerned, Jaime Lannister was still lying dead beneath the rubble of the Red Keep. At least, it was easier for her to keep believing that. It hurt less, and at that moment, she was desperate for anything to take the pain away. She had been such a fool.
Brienne looked over her shoulder, making sure that she and Podrick were alone before she answered. When she turned to him again, she said, "I must admit, finding out that Ser Jaime is still alive was quite a shock. When Lord Tyrion told me that I would be meeting with a potential candidate for the Kingsguard, I had no idea that it would be Jaime Lannister. I was stunned to find him waiting for me in the common room, and I have not yet recovered."
"But is that all of it?" Podrick asked, though he seemed reluctant to do so. "What I mean is, I understand that you're in shock. I was in shock last night when Lord Tyrion sent me to fetch Ser Jaime. But . . . well, after everything the two of you shared—"
Brienne held up a hand, stopping Podrick before he could finish. "That is all in the past now, and a good knight, a true knight, does not let his or her feelings cloud their judgment. My feelings for Jaime Lannister, whatever they once were, have changed irrevocably. I have refused to accept him into the Kingsguard, and it is my hope that he will soon leave the Red Keep and I shall never have to see him again."
Podrick glanced down at the ground for a moment, kicking the dirt at his feet before meeting Brienne's eyes again. "Begging your pardon, my lady, but before you came in search of me, Lord Tyrion commanded me to place guards on Ser Jaime's chamber. He seems determined to keep Ser Jaime here for as long as possible."
The muscles in Brienne's shoulders tightened, and her fingers unconsciously curled around the hilt of her sword. She suddenly wished that Tyrion Lannister had been sent into exile for his crimes against the crown instead of having been appointed Hand of the King. He liked to meddle far too much for her liking, and if he'd been standing before her at that very moment, she might have been tempted to cut him down.
"Why . . . why is Lord Tyrion not sending Ser Jaime to Casterly Rock?" Brienne asked. "Surely, that is the only place for him now."
"I don't know, my lady. But I'm sure he has his reasons. After all, King Bran didn't make him Lord of Casterly Rock. Perhaps it simply isn't his place to do so."
Brienne had always thought it odd that Bran had not granted Tyrion his ancestral lands and titles. She'd convinced herself that the king had refused to bestow such honors on Tyrion as some kind of punishment. But now, she was starting to wonder if Bran had reserved them for Jaime instead. As the Three-Eyed Raven, Bran knew more than any other man alive. He had to have known that Jaime had survived the collapse of the Red Keep. Perhaps he'd just been waiting for Jaime's return all along.
Brienne shook her head. "I think, Podrick, that it's a lot more complicated than that."
They were both silent for a moment. Brienne knew that Podrick was worried about her. Over the years, they had developed a close bond, and she knew he cared for her just as much as she cared for him. But she couldn't reassure him any more than she already had. Her emotions were still far too unsettled for that.
"I think I should return to the keep," Podrick said. "I feel as if I haven't done you any good here today, and I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, Podrick," Brienne replied. "I know that you are just concerned for my welfare, and I appreciate it. Aside from my father and Queen Sansa, I think you're the only person in this whole world who genuinely cares about me, and it means a great deal. Thank you."
"I wish I could do more. I wish I could have warned you last night, but Lord Tyrion—"
"It's all right," she said, stopping him before he could go any further. "You are a sworn knight of the Kingsguard, and your first allegiance is to the king, not to me. And as his agent, that means that your allegiance is also to Lord Tyrion. I understand. You did nothing wrong."
"Is there anything I can do, my lady, to make things easier for you?"
"No, Podrick. But thank you for asking."
"I could challenge Ser Jaime to a contest, best him in single combat to defend your honor."
Brienne laughed, surprised by the fact that she was even capable of laughing at that moment. "That's quite all right. I'm more than capable of defending my own honor, as you are well aware."
"Oh, yes, of course," Podrick said awkwardly, his cheeks darkening with embarrassment.
Brienne decided to put him out of his misery. "You may go, Pod. I think I will stay here a little while longer and practice my form. Maybe being alone is what I need most right now."
"If there's anything else . . ."
"I will let you know."
Podrick bowed his head and then quietly headed back to the keep, leaving Brienne alone in the yard.
Brienne unsheathed Oathkeeper and began idly swinging it through the air, enjoying the feel of the Valyrian Steel in her hand as she imagined slicing off Jaime Lannister's head. She quickly lost herself in the moment, her mind focused, not on her surroundings, but on the man who had broken her heart. Without thinking, she swung a wide arc with her sword, swirling around and nearly colliding with Ser Bronn.
"Whoa!" he said as he took a quick step back. "Watch where you're swingin' that thing."
Brienne was tempted to keep Oathkeeper trained on him. She wasn't particularly fond of the new Master of Coin. She was thoroughly convinced that he didn't know the meaning of the word honor, and she would have been more than happy to slice him in two. But Lord Tyrion liked him, and King Bran had sanctioned his appointment, so she resisted the urge to do him any harm.
Reluctantly, Brienne lowered her sword, but she refused to return it to its scabbard. "Well," she replied, "you should watch where you're going."
"I was watching where I was going. You weren't paying attention. Let me guess, that blond toff's got you all flustered, doesn't he? To be honest, I thought you two'd be fucking right now. After all, it's been, what? Six months? I know you're used to going without it, but he's not."
"What are you talking about?" Brienne asked, her eyes narrowing on Bronn.
"Jaime fucking Lannister, of course."
Brienne stared at Bronn in horror. If even Bronn knew that Jaime was still alive, that meant that the rest of the keep knew. "Who told you?" she asked, her blade inching upward as she fought the urge to stab something.
"Grand Maester Tarly is shit at keeping secrets. Everyone probably knows by now."
Brienne's fingers tightened around her sword, and she forced herself to slip it into its sheath. She was mere seconds away from slicing off Ser Bronn's tongue, and she didn't want to give into temptation.
"Guess the reunion didn't go so well, did it?" Bronn said with a shrug. "Did he fuck it up or did you?"
"There was nothing to fuck up," Brienne replied flatly, refusing to lose her composure. "I don't want anything to do with him, and I told him so, that's all."
"Heard that wasn't quite all. Heard you punched him in the face."
A smile tugged at the corner of Brienne's lips, but she fought it back. "I did. And I could have done a lot worse."
"Of course, you could have. I'm not quite sure why you didn't, unless you're planning to take him back. Couldn't mar that pretty face if you're still planning to fuck him, could you?"
Brienne resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she turned away and headed back toward the keep, hoping that Bronn would get the hint.
But he didn't. He turned with her, falling into step beside her as she walked.
"So, what is it?" he asked. "The fact that he left you for his cunt sister, or the fact that he didn't die with that bitch?"
Brienne fought back another smile. Although she wasn't particularly fond of Bronn, she did appreciate his assessment of Cersei. "It's neither of those things," Brienne replied, keeping her tone even.
"Then what is it? Not that I haven't wanted to punch the fucker in the face a time or two, but he just came back from the dead. You must really be furious if you hit him instead of fucking him."
Brienne stopped, and so did Bronn. She turned to look at him. He was leaning to one side, his shoulders slumped, his hands on his sword belt. He was the sorriest excuse for a knight she had ever seen.
"Is that all you think about?" Brienne asked. "Fucking?"
Bronn shrugged. "Fucking and drinking and gold, yeah. Guess that doesn't make me all that different from the Hand of the King."
"At least Lord Tyrion doesn't drink to excess anymore. And as far as I'm aware, he doesn't frequent whores either."
"Yeah, well, why would he? He prefers pining for the Ice Queen and feeling sorry for himself. He's an annoying little shit sometimes."
There was much Brienne could say regarding Lord Tyrion's feelings for Sansa Stark, and even more she could say about Sansa's feelings for Tyrion. But she wouldn't. Although Sansa wrote to Brienne quite often, she kept everything the queen shared with her in the strictest confidence, including her unspoken fondness for Tyrion Lannister.
"Lord Tyrion can pine all he wants," Brienne said, "but nothing's likely to come of it. The king has made it clear that Tyrion will be his Hand for life, and Queen Sansa has an obligation to her bannermen to marry someone they approve of."
Bronn snickered. "She's a fucking queen. She can do whatever she wants. And that little bastard has spent thirty-odd years talking himself out of situations that would have gotten any other man killed. If she ever asks him to go north, you can bet your white cloak he'll be headed to Winterfell before the ink is even dry on the invitation."
Brienne shook her head. She turned away and started walking again, irritated when Bronn followed.
"Don't you have someplace else you need to be?" she asked, tired of his company.
"Nah, not really. This place is pretty boring most of the time. Not enough intrigue in King's Landing anymore for my tastes. Figured it'd be more fun to annoy you than to head out into the city and just get drunk again."
"You seem quite interested in Ser Jaime, why don't you go annoy him?"
"'Cause I stumbled on you first. Just couldn't help myself, really."
"Well, you've done a sufficient job of annoying me. Why don't you run along and go find Jaime?"
Bronn laughed. "Got any messages you'd like me to pass along?"
"No. I have nothing more to say to him, now or ever."
"You really think that's gonna work?" Bronn asked. "After what the Dragon Queen did to it, the Red Keep ain't quite as big as it used to be. You really think you can avoid him for long?"
"I'll avoid him for as long as I have to. Hopefully, he'll leave soon, and once he's gone, life can go back to normal."
Bronn laughed again. "And what is normal? Don't think things are gonna be normal around here for a good long time."
"No, probably not," Brienne answered, sad to admit it. Even though it had been six months since the sack of King's Landing, life was still far from normal. It would take years, maybe decades, for things to return to the way they once had been.
"You sure you don't have a message for your former lover?" Bronn asked. "This is your last chance."
There were a million things Brienne wanted to say to Jaime, but most of them were obscene. "I have nothing to say to him," she replied. "But, if you are making the offer, all I can ask is that you do your best to annoy him as thoroughly as you have annoyed me."
An arrogant smile quirked Bronn's lips. "Oh, I can definitely do that."