Author´s notes: I do not own characters of Jaime and Brienne. They belong to GRRM alone. My story is in ASoiaF timeline set post ADWD. Especial thanks to my beta reader iorwen who kindly took time to read and correct my text. This is the first time I am writing a fan fic so i am a bit nervous how it will turn out. I hope that all of you who ship The Kingslayer and the Wench will enjoy the reading.
When he woke up, he didn´t know where he was. His head was heavy and his whole body hurt. He felt old and sick. «That is nothing to be surprised of» – he thought to himself - «I am old and sick.» He remembered his sister plucking one silver hair from his beard, not so long ago in King´s Landing. «All the color is draining out of you, brother. You've become a ghost of what you were, a pale crippled thing; and so bloodless, always in white.» Her voice was cold and bitter but her words burned. And they still burn. She didn't love him anymore. She didn't want him anymore. Of course she didn't . She´s been fucking Lancel, Osmund Kettleblack and Moon Boy. She´s been too busy to want him. That thought made him angry. Anything regarding his sister made him angry. He wanted to clench his fists but he remembered he only had one left. The wrong one. Pain stabbed him through the shoulder and spread to the very end of his stump, that ugly thing he hated as much as his sister did. Her again. Must she be in his every thought? He touched his shoulder with his left hand and realized it was wrapped in clean bandage. Just then, he saw he is lying in bed covered with fur. He tried to lift his head from the large pillow but he gave up instantly. Pain threatened to swallow him.
Lying in the dark, he slowly remembered everything that happened before he lost consciousness.
He was attacked in the woods by outlaws. There were five of them, or six maybe. He couldn´t tell. In any case too many for him. But he didn´t care. He was ready to die with a sword in his hand. As he always thought he would. As men like him should - fighting, killing, stabbing. He got stabbed in the shoulder after he killed two of them and then a blow from behind crashed him in deep snow. He didn´t have strength to get up, he lost his sword but he rose to his knees. He would go with his head high.
She appeared out of nowhere. She wouldn´t let him die. Just like the last time, when that bloody goat captured them. She didn´t let him die then either. Stupid, stubborn, big, ugly wench. She saved his life again. Twice that day. He hated that. «Well, she owed me that much, after everything she had put me through.» Wench came to him in the middle of the night claiming she knew where Sansa Stark was. She lied to him. Bloody bitch. He didn´t know she had it in her. He should have known better. However the thought was strange, she was a woman after all. All of them are the same. Lying bitches and whores. His mind went to his sister again. Whore. He paid her alright. He paid her too much. He paid her with Castelry Rock, with his title of a lord, with a whole lifetime of Tywin´s anger and dissappointment. He paid her with his children. All three of them. But he could live without all of it. He could live all his life for her alone and he knew now that would be a wasted life. It was wasted already. She laughed in his face and sent him away.
He was useless to her. He was useless to his son. He was useless to everyone.
The bed he was lying in was the only one in the room. It was a pretty small room, probably one of the rooms in a road inn, with a narrow window, two chairs and a fire place where the fire was slowly dying. The window was closed and the candle burned out a long time ago. Chairs were drawn by the fire and he noticed that his clothes were spread over them. Just then he realized he was naked under the fur covers. Not that it bothered him at all. Better naked than dead. His clothes were drying. Wench probably dragged him here and paid the innkeeper before she fled. Even if he actually had strength to walk away from the wench, he would either bleed out or froze to death because he was soaked to his skin with snow and ice. But currently, he was still alive and he was glad for it. He still had debts to pay – to that scum of Bolton and the Freys. A Lannister always pays his debts. At least he learned that much from Tywin.
His whore sister and that traitorous wench...their turn will come as well.
Renly came to her again. He came every night, stood silent and somber watching her with his brilliant blue eyes. They were cold as ice, penetrating her soul with every moment that passed. He never spoke, not even a word. She was grateful for that alone, she didn´t think she could bare his voice. She knew she betrayed him, disappointed him, abandoned him. She failed him. It hurt her more than any insult she ever got, more than any jape men in his camp put her through, even more than that cruel bet she was part of. She would give anything to change that, to die if she must to save him but there was no way back.
Catelyn would come sometimes as well, beautiful and sad as she was the last time she had seen her. Even in her dreams, Brienne knew Lady Stark was dead cause that horrid creature that called herself Stoneheart had nothing to do with the kindness and gentleness of the lady she swore an oath to. An oath she failed to keep. She failed again, she knew, because she didn´t bring her back her girls. Arya was lost or dead and Sansa was locked up in the Vale, unreachable and untouchable.
And then, there was him. She failed him the most, lied to his face and lead him to an almost certain death. Stoneheart would hang him no doubt, but Lady did give him a chance to die as a knight, in trial by combat, chance she took away from him. She fought for him, weak and exhausted as she was, and won cutting Ser Hanvin with Oathkeeper. He protested, of course, arguing that he would rather die than allow a wench to defend him but Lady Stoneheart allowed. «She thought I would lost» – a thought crossed Briennes mind – «and then both of us would die just as she wanted.» Jaime didn´t say a word to her. He didn´t have to. His green gaze was full of hate and disgust as he was mounting his horse. She knew she was guilty, she knew she had no right to beg him forgiveness. She betrayed him, he had put his honor in her hands and she betrayed him. She betrayed herself as well.
He was going home, she knew. Back to them, to his sister and his son. Where would she go? To her father? They didn´t part on the best of terms and he was still angry with her. To the Vale? And do what? Rescue Sansa alone? The Brotherhood had more men and more arms to bring the girl back to shadow of her mother.
She followed him instead, staying distant but she knew he was aware she was behind. She decided to go home as well. They both had to get to Maidenpool to return home. Perhaps Tarth will bring her peace and rest she needed. Rest from Renly and Catelyn. Rest from Jaime.
They were deep in the woods when she heard the song of swords. «Jaime» – she thought – «I have to save him, he cannot die now.» When she aririved two of them already lied dead and Jaime was kneeling in the snow without his sword. She finished three of them easily, they were just forest outlaws, far from trained soldiers but he was hand short and had no chance alone against five.
«You again wench?» – he mumbled while blood was leaking from his shoulder over his armor, soaking his tunic and dripping to the deep snow. «Why won´t you let me die already? Isnt that what you wan´t?»
It wasnt´t. It never was. Not even when she despised him and hated him. Not even when she thought of him as the most dishonorable and unworthy man in the world.
And so here they were. Stuck in the middle of nowhere, in a small room in a road inn.
The Kingslayer and the Wench. Both dishonored, both despised, both dead.
She curled up on the floor at the bottom of the bed listening to his deep breathing. She pulled the fur blanket, stretching it as much as she could to cover herself up. Her clothes were drying on the chair and she was shivering underneath the fur, wearing only blue socks that reached a bit above her knees. She got up and looked through the window before she cloded the shutters. It was so cold she thought even the moonlight froze.
«Winter will never come for the likes of us» – she told lady Catelyn once – «Should we die in battle, they will surely sing of us, and it's always summer in the songs. In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining.»
But the sun didn´t shine and she wasn´t a knight or a beautiful maid but just a stupid girl who wanted to be something she never could. She sealed the window and glanced at the bed. The lion was still sleeping. What he dreamed of she couldnt tell. She curled on the floor again, trembeling.
Renly was waiting.