Jaime followed Brienne from the small council chamber, keeping a steady pace behind her. He wanted to strangle Tyrion, to wrap his one good hand around his brother's throat and choke the life out of him. He knew what Tyrion was doing – a blind man could have seen what Tyrion was doing. He was pushing Jaime and Brienne together, despite the fact that Brienne wanted nothing to do with him. Jaime didn't blame her, of course. How could he? She was right. He was wretched, and she deserved a great deal better.
By the time Jaime and Brienne reached the White Sword Tower, the afternoon meal was already waiting for them. It was a modest offering, particularly in comparison to the feast that had awaited Jaime upon his arrival, but it hardly mattered because Jaime wasn't hungry in the least. He knew there was work to do, and all he wanted was to be done with it so that he could get out of Brienne's way as quickly as possible.
As soon as they entered the chamber, Brienne moved to the far side of the small table in the center of the room. The table was usually reserved for work, not for dining, but Tyrion had completely ignored that fact.
Brienne sat down, and Jaime took the empty chair opposite her. If she had wanted to work – to show him ledgers and maps, facts and figures – there was no room to do so. The table had been laid out with a full assortment of plates and utensils. There were even two flickering candles and some flowers in the center of the arrangement as if Tyrion had wanted the meal to seem almost romantic.
Brienne stared at the little cluster of purple flowers, a frown furrowing her brow.
Despite his insecurities, Jaime broke the awkward silence between them. "I'd like to apologize—"
"Don't," Brienne said, her eyes darting up to meet his. She was still frowning, and Jaime was certain that was a look he was going to see quite often in the coming days, weeks, and years. "I don't want to hear how sorry you are."
"I wasn't apologizing for me," Jaime replied. "I was apologizing for my ass of a brother. This," Jaime said, lifting the flowers from the vase, "this is just obscene. Would you like me to discard them?"
Brienne's eyes narrowed on him as if she was carefully contemplating her answer. If she said yes, she'd be asking him a favor. But if she said no, they'd have to continue to suffer Tyrion's ridiculous attempt at creating a romantic atmosphere in the middle of the White Sword Tower. Either way, Brienne would lose, and Brienne hated to lose, especially to an opponent she believed to be unworthy of her.
"Leave them be," Brienne finally said, as if she would rather bear the indignity of sharing a romantic meal with him than dare ask him a favor.
Jaime put the flowers back in the vase and slipped his hand under the table, feeling like a child who had just been scolded for trying to do something good. "Well, in that case, perhaps we should just get on with it. I'm not terribly hungry, but you, go ahead and eat."
Brienne's eyes stayed on Jaime as she reached for the flagon of wine by her side. She poured herself half a glass, and then, she leaned across the table to fill Jaime's cup.
He quickly put his hand over the top of his glass, stopping her before she could pour. "I told you, I have no appetite, for either food or wine."
"Lord Tyrion commanded us to eat, so we will eat. Besides, I don't fancy sitting here for the next half hour eating my lunch while you stare woefully down at your lap like a kicked puppy."
Jaime's mouth gaped open in horror. "I do not look like a kicked puppy."
"Of course, you do. And if you think I'm going to fall for that, think I'm going to feel sorry for you, you can think again. Now," Brienne said, staring pointedly at his glass, "move your hand or prepare to have half a flagon of wine poured over it. It's your choice."
Jaime reluctantly pulled his hand away, and Brienne filled his glass to the rim. He had no intention of drinking the entire thing, though he suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to take just a sip. He'd had far too much to drink the night before, and he was still nursing a bad headache. He would have slept straight through the morning if Tyrion hadn't appointed him to the bloody small council.
Brienne put the flagon down and began filling her plate. Jaime didn't want her reprimanding him again, so he did the same. He only took the lightest fare, his stomach still unaccustomed to the rich dishes favored in the capital. Jaime knew it was going to be a long time before his appetite returned to what it once had been.
They ate in silence, the air around them so full of unspoken tension that Jaime thought it might drive him mad. Every time he lifted his glass to take a sip of wine, he stole a glance at Brienne, but she kept her eyes purposefully averted, eating her meal as if she were completely alone.
Jaime hated what had become of them. Six months earlier, Brienne of Tarth had been the closest thing he had ever known to a true friend. She had trusted him, cared for him – maybe even loved him. And he had thrown it all away in a single night. Of course, he'd had good reason at the time – more than good reason – but now, none of it seemed worth it. He knew he should have stayed at Winterfell when he'd had the chance. He should have left Cersei's fate up to Daenerys Targaryen and her one remaining dragon. After all, in the end, it had been Daenerys who had ended Cersei's life. Jaime's presence in the Red Keep hadn't made the slightest bit of difference.
"Must you stare like that?" Brienne said, her eyes finally meeting Jaime's.
"I'm sorry. I hadn't realized I was staring."
"What are you thinking?" Brienne asked. "That you're lucky you didn't stay at Winterfell and end up beholden to me for the rest of your life? That would have been a great tragedy, wouldn't it have?"
"No," Jaime said softly. "That wouldn't have been a tragedy at all."
"Really? Do you truly believe that, or are you just trying to pander to my vanity so that you can feel better about yourself?"
"I'm not pandering to anything," Jaime replied, lowering his glass to the table. "I'm sorry that I ever left Winterfell. If I could go back—"
"But you can't go back. None of us can. And even if we could, what good would it do us? I'd still know what kind of man you really are. I'd still know where your heart truly lies."
Jaime felt a hollow ache in his chest. There was so much he longed to say to Brienne, so much he wanted to explain, needed to explain, but he knew she was in no condition to hear him out. She would barely let him say that he was sorry, much less allow him to offer an explanation.
"I'm not expecting you to forgive me," Jaime said. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself. But since we have to work together, maybe we should try to find a way to put the past behind us, at least for now, and do what has to be done."
Brienne squared her shoulders, her chin inching just a little bit higher. "I have no intention of shirking my duties. If we must serve together on the small council, then so be it. I have sworn my loyalty to King Bran, and I will not fail him, regardless of how I feel about you."
"Well, then, at least that's one thing we can agree on. That's certainly more than I expected."
Brienne turned away from him then and went back to her meal. They continued on in silence, though some of the tension had drained from the room. After a few minutes, Brienne looked at Jaime again and surprised him by asking, "What do you know about the current military might of the Six Kingdoms?"
"I . . . I don't know much," Jaime answered. "I know how things stood when I left King's Landing six months ago, but I'm sure much has changed since then. I have heard that both the Unsullied and the Dothraki left Westeros not long after their queen was killed. I know that, at the time, that was the bulk of the northern army, though I would imagine that the Lannister forces have joined the fold since then."
"What there is of them," Brienne replied. "Unfortunately, Daenerys Targaryen decimated the Lannister army and destroyed the Golden Company, not that King Bran would have chosen to make use of them. The royal navy is in tatters, though new ships have already been rebuilt. But the biggest problem for all our forces is recruitment. There aren't many families that are willing to send their young men to King's Landing to become soldiers. The older houses that still survive, want to keep their heirs close to home, and with nothing but poverty and destruction in the capital, it's very difficult to induce anyone to visit, much less stay."
"Surely, it can't be that bad," Jaime said. "What kind of numbers are we talking about? How weak are the crown's forces?"
Brienne began reciting numbers, and for a moment, Jaime forgot that there was any rift between them at all. He was surprised to find that the realm's forces were in such a sorry state. But then, so many men had died fighting in pointless wars over the past decade that it was no wonder there was hardly anyone left to replace them.
When Brienne was done giving him a full accounting of the situation, Jaime said, "Well, I suppose it could be worse."
"And it could be better." Brienne rested her arms on the table and leaned in closer. "So tell me, Ser Jaime, what are you going to do about it?"
There was challenge in the question, and Jaime wasn't quite sure that he was up to the task of answering it, at least not yet.
"I've just returned to King's Landing," he said. "There's a lot more I have to familiarize myself with before I formulate a plan. But I will find a way to replenish our forces since it is now my duty to do so. You have my word."
Brienne snorted and leaned back in her chair. Jaime knew she didn't believe him. His word was worthless to her now, more worthless than it had been when he'd been her prisoner on their journey to King's Landing.
"It's going to take more than your word to rebuild our forces," Brienne said. "It's going to take a clever mind and hard work. I dare say, I don't quite know if you're up to the task."
"And what have you done to improve the situation?" Jaime asked before he could stop himself. The last thing he wanted to do was antagonize Brienne, but he'd forgotten himself for a moment.
"At my direction, Lord Tyrion has implemented an incentive program for all young men willing to join our ranks. What gold and supplies we have been able to spare have gone toward recruitment. It hasn't made a large impact, but it has almost doubled our forces. I think, under the circumstances, that is more than anyone could have hoped for in such a short amount of time. Without paying for foreign mercenaries, of course."
"Like the Golden Company?"
"Yes. That was a giant waste of Lannister gold, wasn't it?" Brienne replied, derision in her voice.
"Not my idea at all, I assure you."
"Really? I thought you and your sister were of one mind in everything. Isn't that right?"
Jaime's eyes narrowed on Brienne. "If you want to talk about my sister, we'll talk about my sister. But if we do, that means you have to hear me out, you have to hear everything I have to say without interrupting me before I finish."
"And what makes you think I want to hear anything you have to say?"
"I know you're angry, Brienne."
"Don't call me that," she said curtly. "It's Lord Commander, or Ser Brienne, if you must."
"All right, Ser Brienne," Jaime said, choosing the title he himself had given her. "I know you're angry. You have every right to be angry. But if we are going to be forced to work together, I think we should clear the air between us first. I think it would be better for both of us."
"You don't have any idea what's best for me, Jaime Lannister. You obviously never knew me at all, so don't start pretending now."
"I'm not pretending. I know that I hurt you. I wanted to hurt you."
Brienne laughed, the sound painfully bitter. "Oh, is that supposed to make it all right then? Just because you can admit that you set out to hurt me, doesn't mean that I have to forgive you."
"I had to hurt you," he said, ignoring her words. "It was the only way to make you stay away, to keep you from following me to King's Landing, to keep you out of danger."
Brienne's eyes bored into him, and Jaime could see that his words hadn't had the effect he'd intended. Brienne was furious, and she was doing her utmost to rein in her temper.
"You . . . you wanted to keep me out of danger? Me? Ser Brienne of Tarth? Lord Commander of the Kingsguard? You thought you were protecting me?"
"Yes. Yes, I did." Jaime swallowed the lump in his throat, suddenly feeling very much like a fool. Brienne made all his good intentions just sound absurd.
"And what, pray tell, were you protecting me from? Your sister's army, or watching you fall into your sister's arms?"
Brienne's voice broke on the last word, and Jaime could see how much she was struggling with her emotions. It was obvious that she wasn't over his betrayal, obvious that she still had strong feelings for him, whatever they were. He wanted to help her, not hurt her, but he was doing a terrible job of it.
Jaime slowly leaned forward in his chair, doing his best not to spook her. They were finally talking, finally getting things out in the open, and he didn't want to give Brienne any excuse to retreat. He wanted to explain, as best he could, before she suffered a single moment longer.
"I was protecting you from Cersei, from her wrath, from her jealousy."
Brienne's eyes clouded with confusion, and she searched his face, clearly trying to make sense of his words. "What are you talking about?"
"Cersei. Had you followed me, had we gone to King's Landing together, she would have seen, in an instant, how I felt about you, and she would have turned her vengeance on you. She was not a kind woman, nor a generous one. She was selfish, territorial, cruel. I didn't want you to be her next target. I didn't want her to end your life as payment for my betrayal."
"Your betrayal?" Brienne laughed again. "You may have turned your back on Cersei when you left King's Landing, but you went back to her in the end, and that's all that matters."
"No, that isn't all that matters."
"Of course, it is, and if you expect me to believe differently, then you must think I'm a fool. And I can assure you, Jaime Lannister, that I am no fool. Not for you. Not for anyone."
Brienne pushed her chair away from the table and abruptly stood.
Jaime quickly scrambled to his feet. Miserable wretch that he was, he was still a gentleman, and he could not stay seated in the presence of a lady.
Brienne shook her head. "You need not stand on my account. I know what you think of me. There's no reason to pretend otherwise."
Jaime pulled back his shoulders and lifted his head, staring Brienne straight in the eye. "I think you are the bravest, kindest, most capable person I have ever known. And I'm sorry that you refused to accept me into the Kingsguard because it would have been an honor to serve under you. But since you didn't, then I am grateful that Tyrion appointed me to the small council because it means I get to serve beside you, and that is more than I deserve."
"You're right. It is more than you deserve." Brienne turned abruptly and headed toward the door. Before she reached the hallway, she stopped and looked at Jaime over her shoulder. "I've told you all I can about our military affairs. If you need anything further, you can speak directly to Lord Tyrion. And please, tell him, if he ever tries anything like this again, he can go fuck himself."
Brienne turned without another word and disappeared into the hallway, leaving the door open behind her, an obvious sign that she wanted Jaime to leave.
The instant she was gone, Jaime exhaled a defeated sigh and sank back down into his chair. He stared out into the room without seeing anything around him. He had tried so hard to explain himself, and he had failed miserably. He knew he could have done a much better job of it – spoken more bluntly, explained things differently, forced her to listen – but he had thought that a gentle approach would be best under the circumstances, though he'd obviously been wrong. Jaime didn't know if and when Brienne would give him a chance to speak to her so frankly again, but he promised himself, if she did, the next time, he wouldn't waste it.