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He found Brienne in the armory, methodically examining her armor, piece by piece. The space smelled of steel and oil and sawdust, familiar, but not comforting, not today. She was surrounded by soldiers, busy with their own preparations.
He had seen the ships in the harbor below, making ready.
They had quarreled before. They had snapped, bickered, grown irritated. He had sulked. They were husband and wife. They were human. But now he was furious.
He glared at her. “When were you going to tell me?”
She picked up a cloth and wiped one of her pauldrons. “When everything was in place.”
“You are going off to get yourself killed. This isn’t your task. It’s theirs.” He swept an arm around the room. “Those are soldiers; you are their liege.”
"I’m the Evenstar,” she said, stolid and calm. She examined a gauntlet, turning it over and over. “It’s precisely my task.”
“The Evenstar is too valuable to Tarth to take stupid risks. You’re a ruler now, not a… a… brawling hedge knight.”
“I’m in command. It’s a poor commander who leads from behind.”
“My father…” That was an unwise remark.
“I am not your father,” she snapped, “and we’re not having this discussion here.” She jerked her head. “Come.”
She pushed him into to a storage room. Her formidable bulk blocked the door and overshadowed him. “I am the one who decides what the Evenstar does and doesn’t do. Not your father, not mine, and not you either, Jaime.” She paused. “When you were a commander, you didn’t hide in the rear. And when we fought the dead we were both in the vanguard.”
“That was a threat to life itself. This isn’t.”
“It is to those who are being attacked. Those who are under my protection.” She was frowning, obdurate. “Two villages have already been burnt by raiders from Tyrosh. Men, women and children have died. Some have been taken for slaves. My people need me. Not just soldiers and ships, but me. They owe me fealty. I owe them no less.”
“I’m your husband. Don’t you owe me fealty, too?” He knew it was a feeble argument.
“You are and I do, but in this you do not rule me.”
When have I ever ruled her? “If you care nothing for yourself or me, what of Gal and Alysanne? You want to leave our children motherless?”
That was a low blow, but he didn’t regret it. She shut her eyes and a tremor ran through her. “Jaime. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. There are other children on Tarth who have been left without parents.”
“I’ll go. Surely that is enough, to use your consort in the fight. I am expendable; you are not.”
She shook her head. “I need someone I trust to stay here. If the pirates evade us and come to Evenfall, you will see to the defenses.”
Oathkeeper was on her hip; he reached for it. Reached with his left hand, and it slipped off the pommel as she stepped back. She drew the blade and smacked his side with the flat. “No, Jaime. You are a fine warrior…”
He scoffed, stung by his own clumsiness.
“You are,” she insisted, “but I'm better.”
His mouth twisted, but he couldn’t deny the truth. “You are. Now.”
“Now is the time we’re facing. If anyone should see to strategy, it should be you. I will lead my soldiers. You will take charge of emptying the coastal settlements and stationing our remaining men at defensive positions. Set up supply depots, and caches of weapons at strategic locations. Think. I need you to guard my back. You are more than a sword.”
“You are more than a sword.”
“Oh, I know that. I’m a symbol, and symbols are important.”
He was done with arguing. His anger was no more than useless terror he had turned outward. There was only one thing left to do. He kissed her, long and hard and deep, and she kissed him back, her hands in his hair. He held her against him, so warm and real and so alive, and then he released her.
“I will come back,” she said. “I will. I promise you.”
********
They didn’t bring him her body. He clung to that simple fact. No body meant no certainty, and he would take that sliver of hope. She had last been seen fighting her way onto a ship. Accounts were confused after that, but most seemed to say that she had been badly wounded, had fallen into the water and vanished.
That the raiders had been defeated was little consolation. He did the tasks she had set him, and tried to fill her role as well. He could do that for her. Just until she came back, as he reassured their children, willing them to believe. He would deny her death, deny it, deny it, deny it.
I am a coward.
He laughed at himself, bitterly and angrily. If Brienne was gone, four-year-old Gal was now the Evenstar. Did she think of that? Of course she did.
She trusted Jaime to guide their son. She always thought too well of me. How can I do this without her? He shoved the thought away. She wasn’t dead. Not his Brienne.
Stragglers trickled into Evenfall from the eastern and southern coasts. The villages which had been pillaged and burned would need to be rebuilt and fortified. He worked, and gave orders, but he always added, “Until the Evenstar returns.” Something in his face stopped any argument.
Days passed. A week. Two weeks.
He went down to the courtyard to meet the latest group. Gal went with him, thumb in his mouth. Gal clung to his father’s side; he cried when Jaime tried to leave him behind. His younger sister coped by sleeping, too much and too long. She was asleep in the nursery now, and their nursemaid was puffing along behind Jaime, trying to get Gal to join her.
The new group was almost at the gates, and Jaime froze, his heart hammering. A tall figure was in the center, limping, leaning heavily on a crude crutch hacked from a piece of driftwood.
Brienne lifted her head and looked at him.
Gal shrieked, “Mama!”
Jaime scooped up Gal and ran. She was in his arms, Gal between them. Alive. Alive. He had been right.
“Mama’s all dirty,” said Gal, muffled against her chest. He grabbed his mother's arm and she gave an involuntary cry of pain. Gal released her and said, “Mama’s hurt.” He looked ready to cry himself, and stuck his thumb back in his mouth.
“I’m all right, sweetling,” said Brienne. She amended it to, “I will be all right soon,” and kissed Gal’s head.
Jaime took Gal back and handed him to the nurse. Brienne had two black eyes, her nose had been shattered again, there was a crusted cut on her forehead and he suspected that her arm was at least cracked, probably broken. He could only guess what other injuries were hidden under her ragged clothes.
He was swept with an anger that had him shaking. “You stupid woman. You foolish wench.” He wanted to shake her, but she was so thin and exhausted. “Don’t you ever do that to us again.”
“I promised you that I would come back, and I did.” She smiled, or was it a grimace? “See, I even kept hold of Oathkeeper.”
“And the next time?”
“The next time I will do the same.”
They stared at each other, neither yielding, and then her face crumpled. “Jaime… don’t. You know who I am.”
“Oh, yes, you’re the Evenstar. You’re also my wife.”
He expected her to snap, but she chewed on her lip, and a tear ran down her cheek. She wiped it impatiently with a dirty hand. “Of course I’m your wife. I shed my armor, swam, climbed a cliff and walked across Tarth to return to you.” Another tear, and a loud, inelegant sniff.
This time he was the one to wipe her face. “This isn’t over,” he warned.
“No, it isn’t.” He watched her as she straightened, turned, and gave orders for the reception of the refugees. He shook himself mentally, and began to help. The wounded to the maester, horses to the stables, animals to the barnyard, people to the kitchens and the bath house.
“I want a bath,” she said at last. “I’m too tired and sore to fight with you, Jaime.”
His anger fled at the utter weariness in her voice. “Maester first, bath second, sleep third, and fight later?” he asked.
She gave something between a sob and a laugh. Gal was watching them with round eyes. “We'll fight tomorrow. If you'll join me in the bath, I promise we can fight tomorrow.”
He took her in his arms again, gently. “I’m still angry with you.”
“I know. That’s all right.”
It would never be all right, but as he held her, he knew that it would never change. Evenstar, wife, mother. He had to take all of her, or none. And he had made that choice long ago. “I love you,” he said.
“I know that. I love you, too, Jaime.”
Sometimes love hurt, but it was a price he was willing to pay.