Chapter Text
Jaime had only ridden about three quarters of an hour when he felt the sting of a rock glancing off his back. “What the…?!” He looked to his left and felt another rock glance off his right shoulder. He swung his head in that direction, swearing and then he heard it, the deep, mocking laugh he thought he might never need to hear again. “Bronn, by the Seven, I swear…!”
“What do you swear? As if you swearing anything can be believed anyway,” his former fighting partner scoffed, riding from the surrounding trees to trot alongside Jaime.
Jaime thought that was rich coming from the sellsword. “What do you mean by pelting me with rocks? Why aren’t you warm and drunk and attached to some tavern whore’s bosom?”
“Why aren’t you warm and drunk and attached to some blonde giant’s bosom?” Bronn mimicked.
Jaime huffed an answer and kicked his horse into a gallop.
“Oh, running are we? Did she realize the golden lion wasn’t as golden as expected?”
Jaime came to a halt, turning back to shoot a menacing look at his taunting stalker. “What, pray tell, is your purpose here, Bronn? If you’ve decided to kill me after all, just do it. No need for unpleasant conversation.”
“See, that’s just it. You’re almost too sad and pathetic to kill. And you could be having more pleasant conversation back in the warmth of that castle you left.”
“What’s it to you?”
“Well, let’s see. If you return to your bitch of a sister, it’ll be clear to her that I didn’t do the task she set at hand for me. That wouldn’t be good for me. If I kill you, I won’t be getting Highgarden once your brother and the dragon wench take the throne. Yon castle was rather comfortable and everyone’s in a celebrating mood. Didn’t seem to matter to those exhilarated wenches that I did not actually fight the dead ice monsters. They were just of a mood to bounce on my cock and keep celebrating. Where would I rather be? In these woods freezing my balls off with an idiot like you or back there? Not a tough choice.”
“Then, go. I’ll make up a story of turning the tables on you. Cersei will think you’re dead and you can balance as many eager northern girls as you like.”
Bronn eyed him with some measure of humor mixed with dislike. “Even if that were possible in any of the kingdoms, what makes you think you’ll get close enough to your sister to spin such a tale? Your sister…who wants you dead. You’re an idiot of the highest order.”
Jaime turned his head away. “I know,” he said lowly.
Bronn huffed and Jaime heard a rustling sound immediately before being yanked abruptly from his horse and tossed to the hard ground below. He glared up at Bronn, murder in his green eyes. Bronn took up a ready fighting stance, feet apart, fists up. "Come on, idiot. If you’re so ready to trade one painful death for another, get up and fight to get to it.”
Jaime jumped to his feet, annoyed as all hell and conflicted as well. He lunged at the slightly broader man, punching him in the gut even as he felt himself being punched in the back of the head. He grunted and used his arms to knock the other man off his feet. Bronn landed with a resounding thud but no sooner did than Jaime felt himself being kicked in the middle and doubling over with pain and feeling the wind had been knocked out of him. He swung his arms wildly, sometimes connecting, sometimes not. Bronn’s fist made contact with his jaw and he tasted blood. He returned the favor and felt satisfied with the resulting crack and groan. Neither of them noticed they were no longer alone until it was too late.
The uncomfortable clearing of a throat could be heard amidst one of the moments the men were taking to catch a breath.
That was followed by a hearty laugh. “If you two fuckers are quite finished, we can get the business of arresting you over with.”
Jaime looked behind him in disbelief. It was that tall red-headed beast, Tormund Giants______…milk…guard…killer…fuck if Jaime could remember the exact surname in the heat of this moment. The man who’d want to replace him in Brienne’s bed. Jaime felt a stab of pain to mix with his ire. This was the last person he wanted to see. “What are you talking about? I’m not under arrest. I was cleared. I helped in the fight against the dead.”
“And then you were in the custody of the Lady of Winterfell, which you escaped to run back to the enemy’s aid. That makes you a traitor and it makes my fuckin’ night.”
“Well, so happy to have made your night,” Jaime retorted bitterly.
“You know, I was just trying to capture and return him, myself,” Bronn added from beside him.
“If so, then I thank ye, but we’ll let her ladyship decide.”
“Tie them up to one another back to back and put them on one of their horses," said a different but also familiar voice. "Take the reins of each horse and we’ll lead them back.”
Bronn scanned the men surrounding them, surprise alighting his features and some amount of pride too as he saw the young man he'd ribbed in the past ride around from the back of the Winterfell search party to be front and center. “Well, well…she has taught you well, hasn’t she?”
Podrick Payne inclined his head slightly, the hint of a smile on his face betraying his otherwise grim expression. “Yes, she has. And I’ll be damned if I let her be made a fool.” His gaze moved to the blonde knight who was also staring at him then with a mixture of wariness, irritation, and respect on his face.
After being hoisted onto his horse, Bronn tied at his back, it was not lost on Jaime that this was the very way he and Brienne had first spent any amount of time pressed to one another. It felt like yesterday and a lifetime ago all at once.
…
Jaime found himself separated from Bronn once they returned to Winterfell. He was actually placed in what seemed to be the dogs’ pen, a portion somehow still in tact after the long night of battle against the Night King’s army. To his left, he could just make out the pacing of the dogs in their caged holds, the low growls as he attempted to shift in his chair, only to find that he was tied too tightly to make much difference with his movements. Joy. He was facing the dark back wall and not the exit. He guessed they didn’t want him to get any ideas of escape. He wondered if someone would finally have him executed. It was almost comical how many times he’d been in captivity and had escaped death somehow. Almost comical. Somehow he couldn’t find it in him to laugh, however.
He’d really made a mess of things, which, he realized was pretty much his M.O. It was no doubt why Cersei had asserted that he was the stupidest Lannister. Cersei. His forever anchor. He didn’t entirely know why he’d been on a suicide mission back to her…just that he’d felt there was really no other possible end to his story. He was brought into this life with her at his side and if she was to die by dragon fire or otherwise, he felt he should be dying at her side too. The woman he’d loved in all the wrong ways over the course of his life. We don’t get to choose who we love, he thought. Of course, she wasn’t the only one that he loved. There was Brienne, the other side of the coin, the right kind of love. She was more good than he could ever deserve. She was his equal in ways that his twin could never be. His physical equal. His equal in their quality of loyalty, however misplaced his might be. His mental equal in that she understood his mind, sometimes better than he did, but she didn’t try to use it against him, to manipulate him like Cersei. She could dish out or take what he could give and give back just as well. She loved her family. So did he.
Ah, his family. Either remaining member might die at the hands of the dragon queen. It seemed very likely his sister would. You can’t save her. Brienne’s words rang out in his mind from earlier. He knew she was right. He knew Cersei was too far gone, would never listen to reason, would never surrender. But didn’t he have to try? Didn’t he have to look out for his own? But was she still his own? By all accounts, she was nobody’s own, not even as much as that lecherous pirate, Euron Greyjoy, wanted to believe she was his. Nobody owned Cersei and nobody was safe from Cersei…not even him--her brother, her lover. What a fucked up life he’d led. He hadn’t lied to Brienne. He did find himself hateful. He didn’t know how she didn’t. None of it mattered now. He was likely going to die without making any further choices of his own. Maybe that was best. He didn’t make the best ones anyway. So lost in his self-loathing was he that he didn’t realize someone had been watching him for several quiet moments.
Sansa Stark stood on the other side of the iron bars behind which her prisoner sat miserably. She could tell he was alert though beaten-down and resigned. He let his head fall back against his chair, a sigh escaping his lips. He looked utterly defeated. She didn’t know how to feel about that. In truth, some part of her found satisfaction in it. The Lannisters had put her through no small amount of hell. She and her family. Though, she knew that Jaime Lannister had also charged Brienne to continue on her quest to save the Stark girls and bring them back home to Winterfell. For that, Sansa felt no small amount of gratitude. Brienne had become much more than a protector. She had become a friend. A friend who was currently trying hard to shove down her pain, to prepare herself for a new day of duty, still in her room, still unaware that Sansa had indeed learned much from Cersei and that meant that there wasn’t anything that happened in her castle of which she was not aware. So, she’d known of the scene that took place in the courtyard several hours before. She’d also known immediately that she wasn’t letting Jaime Lannister rejoin his evil sister. She just hadn’t decided exactly what she would be doing with him. Stealing herself, she entered the confined area, one of her northern guards nodding his assurance that he would remain at the bars should she need him. Now that she was inside, she approached her captive with purpose, coming around to stand a few feet in front of him. He opened his eyes and raised his gaze to hers. For Jaime, it was so reminiscent of how he’d faced her mother years before except this time there was no mock bravado, no arrogance, just curiosity.
“It’s disappointing how easily you fell back on your sword.”
“Were you only testing me with the words you spoke after Brienne shared the news from the south?”
“No. Not only. I would find satisfaction in seeing your sister’s execution.” She was matter of fact. No pretty words here. She’d really come quite far from the little girl who’d traveled south with dreams of marrying the prince.
“That makes one of us,” her prisoner replied sadly.
She eyed him critically. “You’re rather a broken lion now, Ser. Do you really think Cersei would be keen on taking you back?”
He attempted a shrug from within his confines. She continued to study him until he felt uncomfortable enough to speak. “She probably wouldn’t…but she is my sister.”
Sansa nodded knowingly. “And more.”
He inclined his head in her direction. “And more,” he admitted.
“So, you intended to what? Save her? Defeat the dragon queen? Go to your death at her side?”
“Any of the above, I guess.”
“Tyrion has always been the smartest…”
“Yes, yes…I am the dumbest Lannister. I know.”
“Well, I was going to say that even he has been fooled by powerful women.”
“Our fate, I suppose.”
“I decide your fate at this point, Ser.”
“And you, too, are a powerful woman.”
She nodded, turning toward the dogs who were sniffing the air in her direction. “You know, these didn’t used to be my dogs. I had them eat their owner. He very much deserved it.” She turned to see his reaction. Again, he didn’t look so much disturbed as resigned.
“I’m sure he did. He was a Bolton after all.”
“And the Boltons did business with the Lannisters.”
“They’re also the reason I lost my hand. What a tangled web we weave.”
“You lost your hand saving my lady knight’s honor.”
“Yes.”
“Why would you dishonor her now by leaving?”
“I would not wish to dishonor her by staying.”
Sansa shook her head. “Men really are ridiculous.”
“We are.”
“I’ve spoken to Bronn, your consort from this evening.”
“Well, to be fair, he was an unwelcome travel companion.”
“Yes, he told us that as well. Nonetheless, would you have returned with him eventually, had my guard not apprehended you?”
“I don’t know,” Jaime answered honestly. “We had ceased, uh, speaking on the matter.”
Sansa pursed her lips, becoming frustrated with the man before her. “It seems to me you need some time to think.”
“You don’t want to just kill me? Feed your dogs and be done with it?”
“You may deserve that, but she doesn’t.”
With a swish of her skirts, she moved in an arc until he heard her steps retreating from him and heard the iron door swing open and closed behind her. “Lady Sansa?” he called out, hoping she would answer him.
Several beats passed and then he heard her strong voice. “What, Kingslayer?”
That title would follow him to his grave and he knew she’d meant the offense. “Does she know that I’m here? That I’m back?”
“I’d think you'd know the answer to that question. You really don’t deserve her.”