Chapter Text
She can’t breathe. The air around Arya suddenly feels thick as she struggles to process his words.
She shakes her head. “What?” Surely she heard wrong.
Jaime rests his hands on the back of his chair, his gaze locked on her. “Cersei and I were fucking in that tower together when he climbed up and saw us. We couldn’t have the king finding out about us so I shoved him to his death. Or, what I intended to be his death. He survived, obviously. But I’d say that’s even worse, considering it left him crippled and broken.”
Each word is thrown at her like a sharpened blade and Arya staggers backwards as if he’d physically struck her. “No. You…you’re lying.” He has to be. He has to be.
Jaime rounds the chair towards her and grabs her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You trained with the faceless men. You know I’m telling the truth. It would have been kinder if he had simply died. Instead it crippled him for life. An innocent boy of ten. He wanted to be a knight, I believe. I took that away as surely as I would have killed anyone else who threatened the safety of my family. For Cersei.”
The sound of the queen’s name snaps her back to reality and she slaps his hand away. “Stop it.” Her eyes sting and she feels dizzy as fury and hurt rage within her like a hurricane.
“What’s the matter? I thought nothing could change your perception of me. Though I suppose nearly murdering your brother is a list-worthy transgression. What was it you said when we met? That you’d slit my throat if I hurt your family? Well I have. And I didn’t regret it.”
Arya shakes her head, taking another step back. “Why… why are you telling me all this?” Her voice cracks with emotion as she tries to hold herself together.
“Because you’re wrong about me,” Jaime sneers at her, as if gloating at her failure. “You think I’m a good man? Honourable? I’m not. I’m just as hateful as Cersei and you should have killed me when you had the chance.”
“Maybe I should have!” she hisses, glaring up at him as her hand slips defensively to the dagger strapped to her waist.
Jaime follows the movement with dark humour in his expression. “That can be easily rectified.” He shifts to kneel before her and his expression turns deadly serious. “Do it now, faceless girl.”
Arya’s hands are shaking as she unsheathes the dagger and holds it to his throat.
Jaime doesn’t even flinch. “That's the the dagger meant to finish him off, isn’t it? How fitting that it be used to end the man who ruined him. Do it, Arya.”
But she hesitates to deal the killing blow. Looking into his green eyes, the thought of Jaime dying hurts her even more than his terrible truth.
Why… why does this hurt so much?
Jaime’s hand snaps up and grips her own, stilling the dagger at his throat. “Go on! You’ve thought about it enough times, haven’t you? A cold-blooded killer like you? Now’s your chance to do it.”
But Arya hasn’t thought about killing him in a long time. She can’t even recall when she stopped thinking about killing him.
The room is spinning. She wants to throw up.
Arya drops the dagger and staggers away from him. Her voice is a shaky monotone when she says, “go… die with your sister, Kingslayer. You two deserve each other.”
She turns and walks away from him without another word.
Arya spends the rest of the night carving a sparring dummy to pieces with Jaime Lannister’s stupid sword, hoping to blunt it enough to really make it hurt when she shoves it through his skull!
He’s hardly a widow, but she reckons she can make him wail like one.
It’s a pointless endeavour, she knows. Valyrian Steel can’t be dulled no matter how she tries.
And she’s tried a lot.
This is the third dummy she’s ruined.
And it's not even helping! She only feels worse. Giving up with an enraged cry, she flings the sword across the courtyard, furious at Jaime for reducing her to such a weak, emotional little girl.
She should have killed him. Cut his throat and avenged Bran. It’s what she would have done, once. Now…
Now she doesn’t know why she can’t. She’s so filled with fury, she could march right back to Jaime’s chambers and gut him with his own sword, watch him bleed out in retribution, and then cut his head off.
She should.
That’s exactly what she should do.
So why can’t she do it anymore? She never would have hesitated before she met Jaime. But now…
She must be broken.
This is all his fault and she can’t even kill him for it.
“Arya.”
She startles and spins to see Bran watching her. “What?” She snaps.
He’s watching her carefully with a strangely piercing stare. He’s never been so present before. “Will you walk with me out to the godswood?” He asks her.
Arya breathes, trying to reign in her temper. It’s hardly Bran’s fault she’s feeling this way. Or maybe it is. He could have warned her about Jaime and instead kept it to himself. “Of course. We need to talk anyway.”
Bran almost smiles. “I thought as much”
"Why didn’t you tell me?”
Bran stays unconcerned even in the face of her upset. “It wasn’t for me to tell.” And he’s so calm about it, while Arya just wants to throw something.
“You should have told me anyway, before all of this,” she snarls. “I never would have- if I’d have known-“
“If you’d have known before, neither of you would be here. The truth was unnecessary then."
“Unnecessary? Bran, he took everything from you. How can it not bother you?”
“I’m not bothered by anything anymore. Everything happened as it was supposed to. That is what matters. We all had our roles to play. If it helps, he has already paid for the things he has done. And he is atoning for his actions.”
Arya scowls. “You mean losing his hand? Thieves get their hands cut off, Bran. What he did to you was much worse.”
“Perhaps it was. But it was necessary.”
She scoffs. “To protect his precious secret?”
“No. So that I could become the three-eyed raven. My destiny was never to be a knight, Arya. I wanted that once, but it’s not where I was needed. It also set Ser Jaime on his path. It led him here. And he was needed here. He is a different man now. You know this.”
Arya purses her lips at that. She knows he’s different now, but… it doesn’t stop it from hurting. And it doesn’t stop her from thinking he should have been on her list all along. “You knew all along. You could have said something and he would have been executed for it. I would have done it for you.”
“No,” Bran says simply. “You wouldn’t have done it for me. Revenge is an easy road to take, Arya. But not always the right one. Even if I could resent him for what he did, I don’t. And I don’t seek justice for it. How you’re feeling and what you choose to do with what you’ve learned, that’s your own path, not mine.”
Arya picks at her nails, frowning at the ground. “You’re saying I can’t kill him, then?”
A shadow of a smile crosses his face. “You can if you want. But I don’t think you do.”
That just makes her even more angry. She doesn’t know what she wants.
But she does know one thing. She never should have trusted Jaime Lannister.