Chapter Text
The dragon girl doesn’t seem very happy, but neither is Jaime, so they have that common ground.
Not that he cares too much about the state of her feelings at the moment, although he certainly should.
But his attention - every one of his senses really- is solely focused on the big, thick wench seated somewhere behind him, on his left, even if he’s not staring at her.
“Kingslayer”
“Well met, my lady”
“Your Grace” the dragon girl corrects him at once, and he wonders if she breathes fire too, like the beasts flying around the castle when he arrived. Probably not, otherwise he would have been burned to ashes already, judging by the look on her face.
“Pardon me. Your grace. So many self proclaimed Kings and Queens, you must understand my confusion”
“You-“ she’s about to stand up, but Jon Snow’s hand lands on her arm and she sits back down.
“Ser Jaime.” He says, and Jaime is surprised by how much he sounds like a man many moons older than his face. “ I’m grateful that you joined us. This goes beyond houses and loyalties. It’s the future of mankind that rests upon our shoulders.”
Jaime internally rolls his eyes. He’s not surprised that he sounds exactly like Ned Stark.
“I have read your letter my Lord. My army hasn’t followed me all the way to the frozen North for its landscapes”.
Behind him, Jaime swears he can hear Brienne grumble under her breath. Give it to her to be so loyal to the wolves she gets offended on their behalf. Jaime smiles to the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, and adds: “ Not that your castle isn’t a lovely view” Happy now wench? He adds in his mind.
“I assume there’s at least ten thousand men outside, is that right?”
“Twelve thousand men. They came with me all the way from Casterly Rock. Eight thousand more are now crossing The Neck, I believe, coming from The Riverlands.”
Snow nods, is about to speak, but the dragon queen is faster. “We cannot trust him”
“Your grace…”
“Who is to say he won’t gather his men at night and cut all of our throats as we sleep? As he did to my father, the king he swore to protect”
What Jaime wants to say is: There’s one mistake in your tale, your grace. I haven’t cut his throat. I shoved a sword through his back instead. A Targaryen should know the history of their fallen kings, don’t you think? But he thinks the wench might knock him down if he opens his mouth to speak with such insolence.
(Or worse, throw herself in front of him to prevent the sword that would definitely come his way, like she did with Stoneheart and the brotherhood. More of her blood on his hands).
And quite frankly, he’s getting tired of this reception. From how much time they have been standing in this room, one would think an army of dead creatures isn’t marching the frozen land this very moment, heading their way.
So what he says, instead, is this: “As the Lord Commander said, this goes beyond houses and loyalties. But regardless, I have no reason to cause you harm when my own lady wife stands with the Starks and fights for them and for the North.”
The room is deadly quiet with the exception of Brienne’s sharp intake of breath behind him.
“Your Lady Wife?” Jon Snow is the one who asks the question.
Jaime finally turns around, and yes, there she is, broken nose, wide lips, freckled skin flushed red.
(Blue eyes wide, staring at him, through him, into his very soul).
He feel strangely amused and annoyed at once, two feelings he never thought could coexist, but when it comes to Brienne, a lot of things seem to be unexplainable at first.
“My lady... you haven’t told them?” But from the looks of it, he already knows the answer. Big stubborn pigheaded-
“I… I…” she mumbles.
“Me and Lady Brienne of Tarth are wed.” He keeps staring at her as he says so. “ We were married by a Septon a few moons back, under The Faith of The Seven.”
“What he says is true, Lady Brienne?”
Is it wench? Is it true to you?
She takes long seconds to answer, eyes darting around the room as if waiting for someone, another Brienne perhaps, to step in and take her place. She swallows deftly when she realizes such thing won’t happen.
“Y-yes, my Lord.” Brienne finally says, lowering her eyes to her hands. Jaime turns around to face Jon Snow and Daenerys.
“That’s… I believe that settles the matter of trust regarding Ser Jaime Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock. Brienne is Sansa’s Sworn Sword. Your grace?”
“I agree” the dragon queen is definitely not happy, but as before, Jaime cares none for it.
“Very well then. I’ll make arrangements for your men and I’ll see that Lady Brienne’s things are moved to another chamber, proper of someone of your station to share with your wife, my Lord”.
“That’s not-“ the wench starts.
“Thank you my Lord. I appreciate your kindness” and he’s not looking at her but he can feel her eyes, like daggers, on his back.