After Brienne left Bran's chamber, she did her best to go about her day as if nothing was troubling her, even though she was still haunted by his words: You swore an oath to serve the crown for as long as you hold your position. But you did not swear to remain here for life, and there is a reason for that.
Brienne had learned long ago that Bran never said anything without a reason. When she'd taken her oath as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, she'd had every intention of serving her king until the day she died, despite the fact that such devotion was no longer a requirement of the position. And yet, Bran had as good as told her that she wouldn't hold the title for long, and Brienne found the idea quite unsettling. There was no place in the world she would rather be than there in King's Landing, serving as his sworn sword. Even though Brienne missed her father and her home, her life was in the capital now, and she didn't want to give it up for anything.
By the time the sun began to set, Brienne was in the training yard sparring with one of the knights of the Kingsguard. Fighting never failed to clear her head, and she always felt confident with a sword in her hand. It was when swords weren't called for, around dinner tables and in solars, that her confidence waned. If Brienne could spend the next month just sparring in the yard with Oathkeeper firmly gripped in her hand, she was sure she could be quite content.
A few minutes before the last of the light faded, Podrick entered the yard, and Brienne called an end to the match.
"Good work," she said to her opponent. "You may take the rest of the evening off. The king is already well protected."
"Thank you, Lord Commander," the knight replied before bowing his head and taking his leave.
Once he was gone, Brienne turned her attention to Podrick. "What is it? Another command from the king?"
"No, my lady. Lord Tyrion has invited all the members of the small council to his solar for dinner this evening. It seems he arranged it as a sort of welcome home for Ser Jaime."
Brienne's whole body tensed. She sheathed Oathkeeper, keeping her hand on its hilt to give herself strength. "Please tell Lord Tyrion that I appreciate the invitation but that I have other plans for the evening."
The hint of a smile pulled at Podrick's lips. "He said you'd say that."
Brienne resisted the urge to laugh. "Well, he does always like to be right, doesn't he? I'm sure he'll be pleased when you deliver my answer."
Podrick's eyes darted to the ground for a moment before moving back to Brienne. "Begging your pardon, my lady, but Lord Tyrion said not to take no for an answer. He said if you refused—when you refused—I was to send Ser Jaime out to fetch you, which I'm sure is the last thing you want."
Brienne's grip tightened on Oathkeeper. She wished Tyrion Lannister were standing in front of her at that very moment. She would have turned him from a half-man into a quarter-man.
"In that case," Brienne replied, "tell Lord Tyrion that I would be more than happy to join him for dinner."
But instead of running off to deliver the message, Podrick just stood there and said, "I'm sorry, my lady."
"I know you are, Pod. But we all must do our duty."
Brienne took her leave of her former squire and returned to her chamber to change. Thankfully, as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, no one ever expected her to wear a gown for the evening meal. Despite the title of her birth, she was no lady, and she didn't even own a single dress.
As soon as Brienne reached her room, she washed the sweat from her body at the small washbasin in the corner, then donned a fresh tunic and breeches before heading to Tyrion's solar.
By the time Brienne arrived, the rest of the small council was already present, as was Bran. It wasn't often that the king dined with the other residents of the Red Keep. Mostly, he kept to himself, only leaving his quarters when he felt it was absolutely necessary. Had she not known him so well, Brienne would have thought Bran nothing more than a recluse, but she knew he traveled farther each day in his own mind than she had traveled in her entire life.
Brienne quietly entered the room, bowing her head in Bran's direction before slipping into the only empty chair at the table, the one directly across from Jaime. Brienne didn't even glance in his direction. Instead, she focused her attention on the other end of the table, where the king sat like a broken god quietly observing them all. Tyrion sat to her left, at the foot of the table, between her and Jaime, and the whole situation felt very much like an ambush, but Brienne knew she was not at liberty to retreat.
"Now that we are all here," Bran said, "I would like to officially welcome Jaime Lannister to the small council and to announce that, henceforth, he shall no longer be known as Ser Jaime but as Lord Jaime, since he is the rightful heir to Casterly Rock and I have chosen to restore his birthright."
Every eye at the table turned to Jaime, including Brienne's. She silently watched him, her heart in her throat, but he didn't seem to notice. His eyes were on Bran.
It took Jaime a moment to reply, and when he did, his words were far from eloquent. "Thank . . . thank you, Your Grace. I . . . I never expected—"
"Of course you didn't. And why should you have, after everything you've done? But not all your past deeds were wicked. In fact, according to The Book of Brothers, you are quite the hero."
Brienne's heart beat a little faster, and she didn't dare glance in Bran's direction. Bran knew she had been the one to record Jaime's deeds in the book, and she felt far too self-conscious to face him.
Bran went on, "So as long as you continue to act heroically, you shall remain Lord of Casterly Rock and Lord Paramount of the Westerlands."
Jaime stared at Bran in stunned silence. Brienne knew how important Casterly Rock was to Jaime, and she couldn't even begin to imagine the myriad emotions battling within him. Finally, he opened his mouth as if to protest, but Tyrion cut him off.
"Here, here," Tyrion said, raising his glass in the air.
All around the table, everyone scrambled for their own goblets—except Bran, who stayed as detached as ever. They lifted their glasses high, Brienne included, as Tyrion extolled, "To the new Lord of Casterly Rock. There is no man more deserving of the title."
"Here, here," Sam said tentatively, followed by a few uncertain cries of assent from around the table. Everyone drank but Bran and Jaime, who were still staring at each other in tense silence.
Jaime finally dragged his eyes away from Bran, turning his head toward Tyrion, but his eyes never reached his brother. Instead, they stopped at Brienne, just as she was lowering her glass. She could see the doubt in Jaime's eyes, the doubt and the self-loathing. He didn't feel he was worthy of the honor Bran had bestowed upon him, and he could muster little enthusiasm for it.
It was difficult for Brienne not to react. Her first instinct was to offer Jaime a kind smile, to reassure him that he was worthy, that he would make an admirable Lord of Casterly Rock. But she fought to keep her sympathies in check. Jaime was a grown man; he didn't need her reassurances. And despite Bran's obvious ability to forgive and forget, Brienne wasn't quite sure she could ever be so magnanimous.
Jaime's eyes lingered on Brienne a moment longer before he finally turned his attention to Tyrion. "I'm not entirely sure that's true, brother. I can think of at least one man more deserving of the title."
Tyrion chuckled, dismissing Jaime's concerns with a wave of his hand. "I hope you don't mean me. You are our father's eldest surviving heir. Casterly Rock is yours by rights. Besides, my life is here in King's Landing. King Bran has vowed to keep me at my post for the rest of my days. I could never do the position justice from so far away."
"But you've made me Master of War—" Jaime began to argue.
"So I have. And Master of War you shall stay. For now."
Tyrion turned away from Jaime and reached across the table to refill his glass, effectively putting an end to the conversation. Jaime spared a quick glance at Brienne before turning his attention to his plate. He was silent for the remainder of the meal, though the rest of the party chatted amiably around him.
The meal was a relatively somber affair, but then, it was difficult for anyone to be in high spirits when Bran was near. He had a dampening effect on everything, and even Lord Bronn kept his colorful remarks to a minimum. Bran had granted Bronn both his title and his lands, and it was apparent that even the new Lord of Highgarden knew better than to bite the hand that fed him.
Dinner ended without any preamble. When Bran was finished with his meal, he turned to address Lord Bronn and Ser Davos. "I know the hour is late, but I would like you both to join me in my chambers. I would like to discuss financing for the royal fleet."
Brienne could tell from the look in Bronn's eyes that he wanted to protest. He obviously had much more exciting plans for the evening than discussing small council business with his king, but he stayed silent on the matter, allowing Ser Davos to answer for them both.
"Of course, Your Grace," Davos replied. "We'd like nothing more."
Bran turned his head in Sam's direction. "Grand Maester Tarly, would you please wheel me to my solar?"
"Of . . . of course, Your Grace."
Sam stood, and the rest of the table followed.
As Sam moved behind Bran's wheeled chair, Tyrion said, "Perhaps I should come with you. This matter of the royal fleet has been a thorn in my side for months now, and I'm sure I could offer some valuable insights."
Bran held up a hand, holding Tyrion back. "Lord Bronn and Ser Davos are all I require at this time. You should stay here and finish your meal."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Brienne struggled not to laugh. It wasn't often that anyone put Tyrion Lannister in his place, and there was something undeniably satisfying about it.
Without another word, Sam wheeled Bran from the table, and Bronn and Davos followed them both out into the corridor, leaving Brienne alone with Jaime and Tyrion. Brienne wanted to make her own excuses and disappear from the room, but she knew she didn't have that option. Bran had left her alone with the Lannister brothers for a reason, just as he did everything for a reason, and she had no choice but to sit there a little while longer and bide her time. Bran would know if she prematurely deserted her post. Bran knew everything.
Tyrion cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, that was pleasant, wasn't it? Since there's still food and wine, perhaps we should all sit and finish our meal."
Jaime and Brienne lowered themselves into their chairs while Tyrion climbed up into his. They went back to eating in silence, the air oppressive around them. Brienne wondered why Tyrion wasn't already harassing her and Jaime about their relationship. She knew he wanted to say something, but she had no idea what was holding him back. It was a great feat indeed to get Tyrion Lannister to hold his tongue, and Brienne was thankful to whoever it was who had convinced him to keep his mouth shut for a change.
And yet, the silence was painfully awkward, and after a good five minutes, Brienne could no longer bear it. There was something she needed to discuss with Tyrion, and the casual setting gave her the perfect opportunity. Of course, Jaime would overhear every word, but Brienne knew he could keep a secret. And if he didn't, he'd have to answer for his transgression at the end of her sword.
Brienne turned her attention to Tyrion, purposefully avoiding Jaime's eyes. "My lord, may I ask you for some advice on a matter of a personal nature?"
Brienne heard Jaime choke, and she fought back a smile. Did he honestly think she was going to ask Tyrion for advice about their relationship? She didn't need advice about their relationship. She had already made up her mind about it the day before. It was over between them, and they would never be together again.
Tyrion must have had the same thought as his brother because his eyes darted to Jaime before quickly settling on Brienne. "Of course, Brienne. You may ask me anything."
"It concerns Queen Sansa."
Jaime exhaled an audible sigh, and Brienne bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep herself from laughing.
"Queen Sansa?" Tyrion asked, his cheeks darkening at the mention of his former wife's name.
"Yes. I had a letter from her this morning. It seems the northern lords have decided that she should take a husband sooner rather than later, in order to secure succession to the throne. And while the queen is not at all eager to marry again, she is obliged to at least consider their request."
Tyrion fidgeted in his seat, his fingers curling around his glass, but he made no move to drink. "And how can I help in the matter? Is Queen Sansa having second thoughts about ending our marriage?" he asked, laughing nervously.
"Oh, no, it's nothing like that," Brienne reassured him, knowing he was hoping that was precisely what it was. "It's just that her bannermen have given her a list of potential suitors and she has asked me to send back an opinion on each one. And while I am familiar with some of the candidates, I am in no way familiar with them all. I thought, perhaps, you could look into the matter yourself and let me know what you think before I send my reply."
Brienne could feel Jaime watching her from across the table. She wondered if he knew what she was doing, knew that she was on a secret mission from the queen. Brienne's own cheeks heated under his stare, but she refused to look in his direction. She just continued to eat her meal as she kept her attention focused on Tyrion.
"Do you remember the names on the list?" Tyrion asked.
"I'm not terribly good at remembering names," Brienne replied, "so I've kept the list with me all day so that I could go over it whenever I had a spare moment."
Brienne reached into her pocket and pulled out the list Sansa had included with her letter. She held it out toward Tyrion, but when he reached for it, she quickly pulled it back.
Tyrion's brow furrowed in confusion. "Is something wrong?"
"It's just . . . this is a very delicate matter. A private matter, and—"
"And I will keep this just between the three of us. You have my word."
Brienne gave Tyrion a grateful nod. "Thank you, my lord."
She offered him the list again, and this time, she let him take it. Tyrion immediately leaned back in his chair and began to read, and Brienne finally hazarded a glance at Jaime.
He raised a single brow, giving her a curious look, but Brienne kept her face emotionless, refusing to betray even a hint of what she was thinking.
"No, no," Tyrion grumbled, "this will never do."
Both Brienne and Jaime turned to look at Tyrion again.
"What's wrong?" Brienne asked.
"Robin Arryn? She can't marry Robin Arryn."
"And why not? He's Lord of the Eyrie. He's grown into a perfectly fine young man."
Tyrion shook his head, his eyes still on the parchment. "That may be so, but he's far too weak-willed for Sansa. She'd trample the poor lad within a week of marriage. She needs a man by her side, not a boy. She needs someone who's as strong as she is, but who will not be domineering. Someone who will let her lead in all things."
Brienne was certain she knew exactly who Tyrion had in mind, but she held her tongue.
"And then," Tyrion said in horror, "the northern lords suggest Gendry Baratheon?"
"And what do you find offensive about him, my lord? The fact that he was a bastard or a blacksmith?"
Tyrion lowered the list and looked at Brienne. "The fact that he's still in love with Arya Stark. Sansa deserves a man who will love her and her alone, not someone who's pining for her sister. No, no, Gendry won't do at all."
"Then who do you suggest?" Brienne asked, fighting to keep the amusement from her tone.
"I don't know yet. I'll have to think about it. There are half a dozen names on this list, and all are men who are lacking for one reason or another." Tyrion leaned forward and finally lifted his glass. He downed every last drop of wine before sighing heavily and putting the glass back down on the table. When his gaze met Brienne's again, he asked, "How soon does the queen want an answer?"
"As soon as possible, I'd imagine. I'm sure her bannermen have been quite insistent."
"In that case, I think it's time for me to bid you both good night. I have a great deal of work to do." Tyrion slipped from his chair, the list still in his hand. He stopped beside the table for a moment to look up at Brienne. "Do you mind if I keep this?"
"No, of course not, as long as you return it."
"You'll have it back as soon as I have an answer."
And then, without another word, Tyrion hurried from the room, leaving Brienne and Jaime alone once again.