Brienne sat comfortably by the hearth in her chamber, Galladon dozing lazily at her breast. The babe's stomach was full, and his heart was happy. His mother's thoughts were blissfully content as she regarded her precious son, the expression she wore as joyful as that of her child. Brienne could feel the tension leaving her body, as a peaceful fulfillment began to settle over her. It had been a long and busy day. Time had been spent training recruits, seeing to the inventory of the armory, and guarding Queen Sansa as she went about her full schedule of duties. Brienne had been late returning to her son. She had found him hungry and fussing for her attentions. Her own body was begging for the relief of his nursing. They were both eager and eased to settle together for their usual quiet evening routine.
Brienne's mind had wondered to the pure sweet thoughts of motherhood, when a soft rapping sounded on the panel of her door. Roused from her imaginings, Brienne pulled the smock she wore around herself, and lifted her babe into her grasp. She crossed the room to answer the knocking. Brienne opened the entry to her quarters only wide enough to peer out at whomever it was calling upon her. She was surprised and a bit worried to find Queen Sansa standing patiently on the other side.
"Your Grace?" Brienne gasped, worried that something was wrong. "What can I do for you?" She questioned, unable to keep the concern from her voice.
Sansa smiled warmly, and held up her hand to quell Brienne's fears. "Please forgive my intrusion." Her eyes traveled to the babe sleeping in her sworn sword's arms. Her gaze grew more affectionate watching the child. "I did not mean to alarm you, or to trouble you. There is nothing amiss." She assured Brienne. "Might I speak with you?" She asked pleasantly.
"Of course." Brienne answered dutifully. "Please come in." She stood back, allowing Sansa entrance to her chamber.
Sansa strode respectfully to the hearth and studied the glowing embers as Brienne closed the door, and adjusted Galladon in her arms. She waited at a proper distance for Sansa to begin. The Queen turned slowly, and although she wore a brave face, Brienne sensed an almost nervous reluctance within the young woman. Sansa held her own hands tightly in front of her, attempting not to allow them to tremble in nervousness. She feared how Brienne would take the news she had to impart.
Brienne cleared her throat to end the awkward silence, and motioned toward the chair next to the warm hearth where she had sat nursing her drowsing babe only a few moments before. "Would you care to sit, My Queen?" She offered.
Sansa gave a relieved chuckle, happy that the conversation had at least begun. She shook her head in grateful refusal. "Brienne." She cast her eyes down bashfully. "You are the new mother. I am sure you are far more weary than I." Her unneeded concern, brought a polite laugh to Brienne's throat.
"I am quite well, Your Grace." Brienne assured her. "Thank you for your concern, but please, I insist." Brienne motioned again toward the cozy seat.
"Very well." Sansa smiled widely. "On one condition." She halted. Brienne raised a ready eyebrow eager to meet any need her ruler might present.
Sansa relaxed, instantly taking on a more casual demeanor. "That you sit beside me." She offered. Brienne nodded, and perched attentively at her Queen's side. Unable to stifle her longing another moment, Sansa gazed lovingly at the tiny babe in his mother's arms "May I hold him?" She begged Brienne.
Brienne grinned proudly. "I would trust no other." She agreed.
Sansa settled back onto the cushion, as Brienne gently laid her son into The Queen's arms. The babe cooed and nestled into Sansa's warm embrace, as her soft eyes washed over the tiny infant. "You have been greatly blessed." Sansa told Brienne without taking her admiring stare from Galladon.
Brienne could not hide the maternal pride she felt at Sansa's praise of her precious child. She nodded her concurrence, and wanted to beam with glee. However, she had never been one for accepting compliments with self-congratulations. Brienne was very aware that it had been Sansa's generosity and kindness that had allowed her and her child to remain safe at Winterfell. She also understood that The Queen in the North held very little hope of ever having a child of her own, or even marrying at all. Sansa had been through too much and trusted very little. Brienne had seen the young girl staring wistfully at her swelling middle as she had grown large with her babe. She feared that an overly glowing reaction to The Queen's words would seem bragging and arrogant, and she would not have pained Sansa for anything. She wished, most of all, to convey her gratitude.
"Yes, Your Grace." She began. "I have truly been blessed." Brienne watched her sleeping son with adoration. "We both owe much of our good fortune to your benevolence, My Queen." Brienne affirmed.
Sansa's eyes grew distant even as she studied Galladon. "Not at all." she countered. "It is good to have new life here at Winterfell." Her heart lamented all that had been lost there. "It is fitting." Brienne understood the reason behind the Queen's sad tone. "My Lady Mother and Lord Father would be pleased." Sansa declared.
"You have made a home for us here." Brienne said gratefully. "We are forever in your debt." She promised.
Sansa shook her head. "The obligation is duly mine, I assure you." She said earnestly. Brienne could not escape noticing the anguish in Sansa's eyes as the girl turned to study the fire all too intently.
"Is something troubling you, Your Grace?." Brienne asked nervously.
Sansa's expression became distance and she nodded slightly, casting her glance once more to Galladon, sleeping in her arms. Brienne's stomach went hallow, as her face fell. She tried to ignore the sense of foreboding that welled within her. Unexpectedly, Sansa reached for Brienne's hand. Brienne could not help but notice her ruler's fingers were shaking as she accepted the gesture. "It warms my heart that you consider Winterfell your home." Sansa remarked sincerely. "I hope you will always think of it so." She wished softly. "It is that very fact that makes what I must say to you all the more difficult." Sansa admitted, her voice trailing off with a quiver. Brienne could only stare in dread.
Finally, taking a deep breath of reluctant resolve Sansa spoke the words she had been avoiding. "Please believe that I have agonized over this decision." Her eyes pleaded with Brienne to understand. "But I must ask that you leave Winterfell." She could not bring herself to look at Brienne when the last of her words left her mouth.
Brienne felt her limbs go numb, as she struggled to comprehend Sansa's statement. Her hand slipped from Sansa's grip to her own lap. She searched the Queen's face for any sign of explanation. The silence between them stretched far past the point of comfort. The thoughts which swirled in Brienne's mind made her dizzy. It was the ones that formed to coherence that indicted and condemned her. Of course the Northern Lords who advised Sansa, and perhaps the queen herself, would no longer wish for her service. There was no place at Winterfell for the Kingslayer's Whore.
Brienne turned to stare into the flames. She did not wish Sansa to see the forlorn look that rested upon her features. "I have brought shame upon House Stark." She whispered. Her voice sounded oddly emotionless.
Sansa shook her head sharply, the corners of her mouth dipping in a frown. She had not intented for her news to be voiced so harshly, or taken so heavily. She had presented her case completely wrong. "No. Brienne, You have brought nothing but honor to Winterfell." She declared. "No one has served House Stark more steadfastly, or with greater dedication than you." She praised. Brienne's only answer was a confused and furrowed brow.
At that moment, almost as if Brienne's infant son sensed his mother's distress, Galladon stirred and whimpered. He reached out, searching for the security of the woman who had given him life. Sansa's face became worried, unsure how to comfort the child. Her eyes went urgently to Brienne, and she moved to relinquish the fussing babe. Brienne bent toward Sansa, and quickly took Galladon into her arms, laying his still drowsy head upon her shoulder. She rubbed her babe's back, and calmly soothed him with a kiss upon his head, happy to have him returned to her arms. Immediately, Galladon relaxed and eased back into his sleep. Sansa marveled at the power of a mother's touch.
The women sat in silence for a long moment. Brienne struggled valiantly to prevent her bewilderment from overwhelming her. Sansa searched for the words that would bring comfort to her protector. "Please." Sansa begged. "Please believe me. What I ask of you has nothing to do with any action on your part, save that of upholding your oath, and protecting my sister and myself bravely." She explained.
Brienne looked at Sansa questioningly. "I do not understand, Your Grace." She shook her head, perplexed by the possibilities of the Queen's meaning.
Sansa regarded Brienne proudly. "My brother, Bran, has asked me to release you from your oath of service to House Stark." Sansa told Brienne, a lump forming in her throat. "He has appointed you Lord Commander of his Kingsguard." She tried to smile at the opportunity Bran was presenting to Brienne, but the thought of losing someone who had grown so dear was almost more than Sansa could bear. She had not allowed herself to be close to anyone for so long. Brienne had become more to her than just a sworn sword. She was her dearest friend.
Brienne could hardly believe what she was hearing. She knew the Kingsguard demanded total dedication. Lord Commanders and Guardsmen alike for generations had been required to give up everything and devote their lives solely to their duty. Her thoughts went unbidden to the day she had bathed with Jaime at Harrenhal. She heard his lament of the oaths that had taken everything from him. While Brienne herself was no stranger to living her life for an oath, or to refusing her own desires to fulfill a promise sworn upon the sword blade. It was different now. Her life was not hers to give, it belonged to the little bundle in her arms. Reflexively, her grasp tightened around her babe, still sleeping at her neck.
"But I..." Brienne answered haltingly. "I have a child." She stammered. "The oath of loyalty to the Kingsguard forbids my raising him." She shook her head trying to push the image of abandoning her son from her mind. Even sending him to her father on Tarth would be too great a distance between them.
"I cannot, I will not give him up." Brienne protested, tears welling in her eyes. She had never refused any of the Queen's requests before. Now, it seemed her very life depended upon it.
Sansa looked sympathetically at Brienne. "Do not worry." She assured her. "Bran promises many changes." She nodded. "He wishes his reign to be a new beginning. One very different from the suffocating ways of the past." Sansa announced. "You shall not be separated from your child. He will remain with you." She smiled.
Brienne's expression softened. "In Kings Landing?" She asked, almost rhetorically. Her mind already picturing all that would mean. She would have to leave Winterfell. She would live her days in the very place Jaime had died. The very place to which he had journeyed when he left her, for another.
Sansa sensed Brienne's apprehension, and realized her feelings of reluctance. "Yes." She answered. "Kings Landing is not what it used to be." She pled Bran's case. "It has taken nearly a year to rebuild the Red Keep itself. It is almost brand new." She eyed Brienne, hoping she would comprehend the meaning behind her words. "The ghosts of the past are gone." She told Brienne, her own eyes glistening with sad memories.
Brienne suddenly understood how painful thoughts of the Capital must be for Sansa and Bran. It was not only Jaime who had been lost there. The life of their own father, Ned Stark, had been taken on the grounds of the Red Keep. It was where Sansa, herself, had been held a virtual prisoner. If they could look toward the future there with hope, surely she could as well.
"I can think of none who would make a better Lord Commander than you." Sansa praised. "Samwell Tarly has already been named Bran's Grand Maester. Lord Tyrion will be Hand to the King. He has been there all this time, seeing to every detail of the rebuilding." She listed. "I desperately wish someone I trust to keep my brother safe." Her eyes pleaded with the hope that Brienne would consider the offer. "Bran has been quite insistent on the matter." Sansa cleared her throat. "He has been through so much. I want there to be no worries for him, at least where his Small Council is concerned." Truthfully, Bran's correspondence to his sister had seemed so urgent over the necessity of having Brienne in Kings Landing, that Sansa almost wondered if he sensed something important for her there.
Sansa regarded Brienne proudly. "You have served House Stark with courage, honor, and devotion. There is no one else I would want to watch over my brother." Sansa said sincerely.
"But what of you, Your Grace?" Brienne could hardly bear the thought of leaving Sansa unguarded and vulnerable.
Sansa smiled at Brienne's concern. "I will be fine." She affirmed. "I have my entire Queen's Guard to keep me safe." She tried to say confidently, but was losing the battle to appear resolved. The Queen breathed deeply, and tried to steady her trembling voice. "The truth is, it will sadden me greatly to see you go." She admitted. "You are not only my sworn sword, Brienne, you are my friend." Sansa confided. "I will miss you terribly." Her tone conveyed the pain in her heart as she reached and stroked the nape of Galladon's soft neck. "Both of you." Her eyes were warm as she regarded mother and child.
Sansa thought of the love Brienne had lost, the father her son would never know. She saw her own lost family so clear in her mind. "We have all made sacrifices to see a new Westeros grow from the ashes." She lowered her eyes sadly. "I cannot stand in the way of that, no matter how much I would wish to." She conceded. Brienne's eyes were filled with both compassion for Sansa, and pain for what they had both lost.
"I know that Winterfell holds so many...memories." Sansa's speech was guarded, but her eyes strayed to the bed. Brienne understood that her meaning was of Jaime. "Kings Landing could be a fresh start." Sansa attempted, hopefully. "What an exciting place for a young boy to grow." She presented. "And it is so close to Tarth. You could visit your father. I am sure he would like to spend time with his grandson." She made her case.
Brienne's head was swimming with all that Sansa described. The Lord Commandership was the kind of privilege of which had always dreamed. As Galladon grew, a bustling city may very well provide him greater opportunity for squiring, apprenticing, or whatever else his path may hold. She desperately wanted to see her father, and to introduce him to his heir. It surprised her that she seems to be talking herself into accepting the position.
One of Sansa points of persuasion hit Brienne stronger than any of the others. For her Winterfell was filled with remembrances of her time there with Jaime, when she thought he loved her. Standing in the courtyard could almost trick her mind into seeing him suddenly appear as he had when he had ridden North to her. The battlements she patrolled, upon which they had fought the Dead together, as one, still held the feeling of his presence. Secluded alcoves into which he had pulled her, where they had feasted on kisses, seemed to still be filled with his ardent whispers. The hidden out-of-the-way places where they had succumbed to their urgent needful passions and made love continued to hold his ghost. Even the very bed in which she still slept. Every turn she took held his memory, and it was exhausting fighting their appearances, especially when she wanted so badly to remember. However, that was a diversion she could not allow herself. Perhaps it would be best to take her son and start a new life in the Capitol. At least it might be possible there to weave the fallacy that her child's father was not who everyone at Winterfell knew he was.
Before she could change her mind, almost as if in a dream, Brienne heard her voice answering The Queen in the North. "It would be my honor to serve your brother in Kings Landing, Your Grace." She shifted her infant upon her shoulder and regarded Sansa with a clear and determined confidence.
Queen Sansa smiled happily in response. "I believe you will meet the challenge of your new position with honor, and bring pride to the Realm." She praised.
Brienne bowed her head. "Thank you,Your Grace." She accepted. However, the thought of one she would miss greatly troubled her mind. "Might I make a request?" She asked, hopefully.
"Anything." Sansa answered gladly.
Brienne took a breath and settled Galladon before continuing. "I would ask that Ser Podrick be my first recruit for the Kingsguard." She presented, eager to further her loyal former squire's career, and have a friendly face near as she began her new path.
Sansa's shoulders fell a little, as she opened her mouth to speak. "Oh. I am sorry." She shook her head. "I am afraid that is impossible." Sansa answered with kind understanding.
A look of disappointment clouded Brienne's face. "I see." She nodded, resigning herself to life in Kings Landing with only her child for comfort.
For some unknown reason, Sansa's smile began to beam in the wake of Brienne's discouragement. "Ser Podrick has already accepted a new position." Her grin widened. "As King Bran's personal Sword. He shall be accompanying you to Kings Landing." Sansa eyes flickered, enjoying being the one to give her friend the news. Brienne's face brightened, and her smile glowed, as she realized the honor which had been bestowed upon her friend as well as herself.
Brienne felt as though her agreement should have given her a sense of foreboding and apprehension, or at least a greater sadness at the thought of leaving Winterfell. She could not explain why, but once her declaration had been made, all there was within her heart was a growing sense of excitement. She had not felt hopeful in so long that it was good to look forward to something, to have a challenge once again. 'Perhaps.' Brienne thought to herself. 'Perhaps our destiny awaits in Kings Landing.' She smiled as she looked into the face of her son.
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The endless days passed, and little by little, Jaime regained his strength. He had no way of determining how long he had been kept hidden in what he had come to describe as his cell. Weeks had turned to moons, and then those had come and gone, mostly with only a vague realization of the world continuing somewhere on the edge of his perception. All the while it seemed as if Brienne were always just beyond the horizon, a constant driving force toward which he directed his journey. He was caught between the past and the future, but always with her. At times he could almost deceive himself, and believe he might someday catch up with her. Perhaps, if he were diligent and very lucky, he could win her back. On those days, when his mind was filled not with the shadow of agony and regret, but with the memory and the hope of her, he could almost smile.
Slowly, his body had healed, and while he was not the formidable warrior he had once been, Jaime began to grow more confident that he could at least hold his own in a fight, albeit a small one, Each morning he would force himself from his bed at dawn, and spend the day in his own form of training within the confines of his dark tiny chamber. With the same disciplined focus of his youth he began the routine, putting himself through the drills he had learned in the training yard at Casterly Rock when he was only a boy. Jaime could almost laugh now, as he rehearsed the perrys and counters that Bronn had forced him to repeat over and over with his left hand, until he had no need for his right.
Jaime had no sword with which to practice the proper weight. Widow's Wail had been lost to him. Its absence brought a palpable pain with the thought of its partner blade, Brienne's own Oathkeeper. Once part of the same great weapon, it had been his connection to her, and would have given him such peace at the thought of Widow's Wail calling for the very blade even now hanging at Brienne's side. Even in its absence, Jaime held fast to the sensation that something somewhere still connected his heart with hers.
Jaime strengthened his muscles, even as his heart remained shattered. He told himself that leaving Brienne had been the right thing to do. He realized the duty he thought he owed to an unborn child who had been a lie was the cruelest of hoaxes, and one for which he had fallen without question. He regretted having been so gullible. However, his determination to keep Brienne protected from Cersei's wrath and gluttony for power was the only sacrifice he could have made for the woman he truly loved. He tried to make himself believe there was honor in it, and attempted to accept the path he had chosen. But Jaime's thoughts would dwell on Brienne, and his love for her. Once more he would slip into despair, wanting desperately to see her face, to hold her in his arms, to kiss her soft lips. Brienne was the only reason he even stirred in his tiny cell.
Everyday Tyrion would visit, and each time Jaime would ask the question his heart needed answered the most. "Tyrion." He would call, as his brother rose to leave. Lately, he noticed a heavy sigh settling over Tryion's chest as if he were anticipating Jaime's inquiry. "What of Brienne?" Jaime would plead desperately.
For so long, Tyrion's said nothing. He simply turned and left Jaime alone with his dread, certain the silence meant that something unspeakable had befallen his beloved, the woman for whom he had sacrificed everything, although she did not know it.
Finally, one late evening after Tyrion had taken dinner with his brother in the tiny desolate chamber that was now his home, Jaime posed the issue again.
"You ask of Brienne." Tyrion remarked coldly, "Yet, inquire not at all after our sister, the one for whom you left Brienne." His scolding tone, was meant not in the defense of Cersei, but to chastise Jaime. Word had been received from Winterfell, only a few days prior, that his nephew had been born. Tryion resented vehemently that Jaime had not been there to comfort Brienne, to see his son enter the world. "Why do you ask after Brienne, yet not about Cersei?" His tone was mockingly austere. Tyrion understood that their sister was the last thought which dwelled upon Jaime's mind.
"I already know. She's dead." Jaime scoffed as if it meant nothing to him.
Tyrion was relieved that at least Cersei had not been turned into some worshipped martyr in Jaime's mind. In fact there seemed little concern, if any at all, in Jaime about their sister. Tyrion was glad of that. "Yes. She is." Was all he said, as he walked toward the door.
Jaime leaned forward, if Tyrion had been any nearer, he would have grabbed his brother's wrist and fallen to his knees, begging. "Please, tell me of Brienne." Jaime implored. "I need to know." He cared not that he sounded as if sobs could escape his throat at any moment.
To his shock, this time, Tyrion did not flee. He turned a sadly compassionate eye toward Jaime. "She is well," was all he said before leaving Jaime to his racing thoughts.