Chapter Text
Brienne woke up with a startled gasp…and with a headache. Her first instincts were to take in her surroundings.
She was definitely sleeping in a bed, and surprisingly not in her tent at Renly’s camp. Gods, Brienne couldn’t remember the last time she had slept in a true bed. Probably the last night she spent on Tarth. She brushed the unbidden memory of the sadness in her father’s eyes as she took her leave from her mind.
Brienne scanned the room to see that she was not on Tarth, but she had no idea where she could be. The architecture of the building was none that she had seen before. There were the walls were made of stone. And it was cold, very cold.
For a person who grew up playing in the warm sun on the beach – Brienne was grateful for the extra furs that were piled on top of her.
What had happened? Had Renly and Stannis finally come to blows? Had there been a battle and she was injured? She had other aches and pains throughout her body besides the blow to her head.
Brienne heard stirrings in the room and looked up to see what seemed to be a maester, although he did not have any chains.
“What…where am I?” She asked. Her voice was sore from disuse, she assumed. Brienne wondered how long she had been asleep.
“Lady Brienne, you’re awake,” the man said excitedly, as if he knew her. Brienne, however scowled at him, because from that title he called her, he must not know her at all.
“I’m no lady,” she said angrily, but the man just smiled at her. She hated when people were patronizing to her.
“Wench is more like it,” said a voice from the doorway. Brienne looked up and gasped at the sight of one of the most handsome men she had ever seen in her life. He was a knight – she could tell that from the sword that hung from his side and the way he carried himself. His clothing bore no insignia though, so Brienne couldn’t tell what house he was from.
His hair was long and falling into his eyes, and a thick beard covered his chin, but didn’t disguise his chiseled jaw. And his eyes -they were so bright and piercing. And they appeared to be smiling at her.
His gaze made Brienne so uncomfortable, she dropped her eyes from his. To his shoulders. His very broad shoulders. The man chuckled.
“I’m glad that you are healthy enough to be admiring my fine form, wench, but I think we should let the maester confirm your healthbefore we take your thoughts any further,” the man said.
Brienne blushed at being caught ogling the man, but then his words registered.
“Did you just call me wench?”
The man crossed the room and gazed down at her in concern.
“Of course, like I always do,” he said, reaching out and grabbing her hand. He was holding her hand. Why was the handsome knight holding her hand? What was happening to her? Memories of those who had tried to woo her under false pretenses in order to win a bet flooded her mind. Brienne tried to pull her hand away from this stranger’s but he only held hers tighter. “Brienne, are you feeling okay?”
The maester in the room cleared his throat and smiled at the two of them. “Well, she always complains when you call her that, so I would say she’s feeling just fine, milord.”
The man smiled at that and squeezed her hand. “Well, since you are injured, I can call you by whatever moniker you would prefer. My love? Sweetling? Fiercest warrior in the kingdom? Wife?”
Wife? WHAT IN ALL THE HELLS WAS GOING ON HERE?
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “What happened? Where is King Renly?”
The man dropped her hand with a look of surprise on his face. “Renly? What do you mean, wife?”
Despite her injuries, she did her best to scoot away from the man. “Why do you keep calling me that? Who are you? What have you done with my king? I need to be by his side. I’m in his rainbow guard. I need to protect him. Stannis is not to be trusted.”
The man closed his eyes for a moment as if trying to gather his emotions that were threatening to burst out of him. When he opened them, he gave her the saddest expression she had ever seen.
“Brienne, do you know where you are?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea, a nearby keep to King Renly’s encampment?”
The maester approached the bed.
“And do you know who this man is, milady?”
She studied the man, who was now looking at her pleadingly, tears in the corner of his eyes. She did not know him, but she really wished she did. Brienne didn’t know why, but the idea of him being sad broke her heart. She wanted nothing more than to make him feel better, but honor dictated that she should be truthful.
“No, I’m sorry, I do not.”
The man’s shoulders slumped and he sat down in the nearest chair. He looked as if his whole world had been shaken. Brienne couldn’t help but wonder again who he was and why he kept calling her wench and wife. It had to be some kind of joke, but for the life of her she could not understand the punch line.
“It will be alright, milord, such things are common with head injuries,” the maester reassured the man.
“Head injury? Was I wounded in battle? Was Renly hurt? Is he protected?”
The man who called her wife growled at Brienne’s words. “You are the one with injuries and you are worried about your precious Renly? You could have died today, Brienne.”
She scowled at the man for having the gall to berate her, though he was a stranger.
“It is my duty to protect him, my injuries do not matter,” Brienne argued.
The man threw up his hands in frustration. “Gods, I forgot how annoying you were back then. Always black and white in your duty, no room for grey in the world of the Maid of Tarth. I’m so glad you learned to bend a little.”
Again, Brienne was offended. “I have not.”
The man surprised her by chuckling. “Oh you have no idea how many compromises you’ve made, my love. Marrying me just being one of them.”
Brienne’s mind reeled, how could such a thing be possible. Now she knew he had to be japing. Why would such a man be wed to her, and wouldn’t she know if she was married at all? She knew head injuries could cause the brain to work in mysterious ways, but this was beyond ridiculous.
Brienne stared at him in shock. “I’m not married to you! I don’t even know who you are!”
The man leaned forward, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Well you are in for the shock of your life, my love. I’m your husband, Jaime Lannister.”
Brienne gaped at the man. She had only seen the Kingslayer once from afar at a tournament. She supposed the man standing in front of her resembled him, but he was much more unkempt than what she knew the Kingsguard member and noble she knew him to be. Glancing over him, she finally noticed that he only had one hand as well. How had she not taken that detail in before?
Her heart saddened at him for the loss he must have felt for the limb, and the it was quickly replaced with anger for this…man…who was clearly lying to her.
“You are japing with me,” she said firmly. “You are not the Kingslayer.”
The light dimmed in the man’s eyes a little when she said that title, although she could not imagine why. Everyone knew Jaime Lannister to be the Kingslayer.
“Jaime, my name is Jaime,” the man said, his voice sad. Her heart sped up at the intensity in his eyes, and her head ached a bit. She felt a shiver run through her, as if she had heard those words before. The moment passed, and she remembered that she had no idea who this man was. So she decided to scoff at his declaration.
“Now I know you are in a lie, because if you were the Kingslayer, you would want to be called Ser Jaime, not just Jaime. It’s what’s right.”
The man had the audacity to roll his eyes at her. “You don’t think my own wife would call be by my first name? But you are right, that was a hard battle fought to get there. I thought you were going to be calling me ‘Ser Jaime’ from our marriage bed.”
Brienne blushed at the idea of sharing a bed with this man. She could not believe any more of these lies. Her head hurt and she just wanted to go back to sleep and forget any of this happened. “I think I would remember being married, ser,” she said, rubbing her temples.
The man just sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at her with an intensity that made her stomach flutter.
“Milord, perhaps the lady should rest a bit. Maybe if she sleeps she will regain some of her memories by then,” the maester said, and Brienne could not be more grateful to him. Still, she had to set the man straight.
“I haven’t lost many memories, just those of how I got to be in this castle. I remember earning my place in the Rainbow Guard yesterday,” she said sternly.
The man who was pretending to be the Kingslayer leaned forward and grabbed her hand. “Brienne, that was years ago. You haven’t been in Renly’s camp in a very long time.”
Brienne gasped, not able to comprehend what he was saying. “Years?” she whispered. “No, it’s not true. It can’t be true. Where is Renly? WHERE IS MY KING?”
The two men tried to hold her down when she attempted to get out of her bed, and her shouting only got louder.
“Should I tell her?” The knight asked the maester, who looked like he was lost as to what to do in this situation. “I don’t know, milord. It may only agitate her further.”
“Tell me what? I demand to know what you are keeping from me!”
The knight sighed and the maester just nodded dejectedly. “Alright, I will tell you, wench, but you have to promise me that you still will try to sleep, regardless of what news you hear.”
Brienne nodded solemnly. “I will rest, I vow it.”
The knight smiled sadly at her. “Good, I know you will be true to your word.” Again, Brienne wondered how he knew her so well. She ignored the voice in her head that was whispering that he might be telling the truth about being her husband. That was preposterous.
The knight hesitated with his words, as if he did not know how to tell her his news. “Brienne…Renly is dead. He died many years ago, killed by Stannis.”
Brienne couldn’t contain the sound that came from her, the guttural wail that was half-cry, half-scream. Renly was dead. It couldn’t be, could it? Yet somehow, she knew it to be true. She failed to protect her king. She was a failure.
The knight did not hesitate to climb into the bed next to her. Any other time, Brienne would have pushed the stranger out of her bed, but she was so distraught that she let him hold her and whisper soothing words to her. She did not have to work too hard to keep her promise to the knight to get rest, because she felt the darkness overtake her not long after.
**
Jaime waited until Brienne’s breathing evened out before he laid his wife’s head back on her pillow. He stared lovingly down at her tear-stained face. “How long do you think it will last?” He whispered to the maester, not wanting to disturb her rest.
“I cannot say, milord. Head injuries are strange like that. It could be hours, it could be days, weeks or years. We will not know until it is gone, if it goes away.”
Jaime eased out of the bed and marched over to the young man. “If? What are you saying, Tarly, that my wife might never regain her memories?”
His heart broke a little at the scared expression on Sam’s face. He knew the young man did not want to voice the answer to that question.
“She has to remember Sam, she cannot go on living like it was years ago. Like none of this ever happened.”
Like we never happened, he thought to himself. Kingslayer. He never thought he would hear that name pass Brienne’s lips ever again. He had to admit it was a gut punch to hear it. What would happen when she found out the truth – that he was Jaime Lannister? The Jaime Lannister she knew of during that time was known by all as the Kingslayer. He didn’t know if he could bear to see the scorn in his wife’s eyes. Brienne back in the Renly days was so noble and all about keeping those precious vows.
She did not remember their time together in the Harrenhal baths. The bearpit. And Oathkeeper. Gods, she didn’t remember Oathkeeper.
Suddenly the stifling air in the sickroom was more than he could bear. “Let me know when she awakens,” he said to Sam. “And inform the Starks of what happened.”
He stormed out of the room and once he exited, he started running. He had to get outside, he couldn’t breathe. He bumped into Tyrion and Pod on the way out.
“Ser Jaime, I heard milady was awake, can I go see her?” Pod asked eagerly. He was one of the many who had a hard time staying away from Brienne’s side while she was injured.
Unable to form words, Jaime just shook his head.
“Jaime, are you alright?”
He shook his head again. “I can’t…I have to…” And with that, he turned and ran in the opposite direction. Jaime ran until he reached one of the highest ramparts of the keep. Once he was overlooking the snowy plains of the North, he forced himself to take slow and even breaths.
The vacant stare when Brienne looked at him was like a dagger in his heart, but the good news was that she was alive. His wife may have no idea who he is, and may see him as an honorless Kingslayer, but this memory loss may not last forever.
And if it did, well, he had made the honorable Maid of Tarth fall in love with him once, he could do it again.
Finally calm, Jaime started thinking of ways to woo his wife.