Chapter Text
“No.” Her father’s jaw was clenched, though his tone was controlled, and Brienne could see the quiet anger in his eyes. “The future of House Tarth cannot continue through a bastard.”
“He’s not a bastard, Father, I told you that!” She spat out, her tone stronger than she intended; she just wanted her father to understand, even a little. “We were married at Winterfell, by the Old Gods—”
“Then it’s not a legitimate marriage,” her father interrupted again. He’d been at it since the argument began, since she returned to Tarth. Her father snorted and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you expect me to tell our vassals and the other Stormborn houses that? That you married the Kingslayer and expect his son to inherit Tarth?”
Brienne looked at him silently, still unable to understand how her father believed it was all a lie. Since her arrival on Tarth, after Jaime—
“No! I beg you, Jaime, please don’t—”
He gave her a sad smile, simply that. He didn’t say anything else; apparently there wasn’t time—
Brienne blinked, not wanting to remember that now. Instead, she clenched her jaw, thinking about what to say. A few seconds passed. Seeing her silence, her father approached her, placed a hand on her shoulder, and squeezed it.
“It’s not that simple, Brienne. You’re coming home after five years…” Her father’s tone was gentle, but Brienne knew it; it was the tone he always used with her as a child when he gave her a command. “And you’re pregnant with a bastard—”
“He’s not a bastard!” Her father looked at her in surprise, as did she, surprised by her tone of voice. But she won't waste this silence. "Father, I beg you, believe me. Jaime is honorable and he married me. He'll come back, you'll see."
Her father looked at her silently for a few seconds before sighing. If her father understood for just a second... then he wouldn't be trying to force her to marry Hyle.
Her childhood bedroom had been a safe haven for her for as long as she could remember. It protected her from others' comments about her appearance, from Septa Roelle with her lessons about life, and when her father brought one of those women home. She could spend hours reading tales of knights and dragons in her books, but none of it calmed her restlessness now.
Shifting her gaze from the blue waters of Tarth to her belly, a weak smile formed on her face. Despite everything, it was a small consolation. “I hope your father is well.” She ran her hand over her swollen belly lovingly. “He'll be happy when he finds out you exist.” Her smile faded. Jaime didn't know that yet, and with bad luck, he never would.
Se felt her eyes burning. If Queen Daenerys hadn't forgiven him…
Queen Daenerys Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, was standing outside the Kingslayer's cell. She gave Jaime an icy stare; Jaime, on the other hand, didn't flinch. Brienne couldn't ease the pressure she felt in her chest. Despite Jaime's help against the White Walkers, the people still wanted him to pay for his sins. Brienne looked at Tyrion and made a silent plea. He seemed just as worried as she was.
"Ser Jaime." Daenerys looked at him intently. "I must thank you for your efforts and support in the Long Night's Battle. Your service as a commander alongside Lady Brienne was very influential in the victory. But you must understand that no one has forgotten your crimes as Kingslayers. Everyone demands justice." Daenerys gave Brienne an apologetic look and then turned back to Jaime. "You will have a trial in King's Landing, where it will be decided whether you will live or not."
Brienne's thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Her heart racing, she stood and walked over. Her father had sent her here because of the argument. Today she would finally get news about Jaime. When she opened the door, she found her father standing there.
Her father looked at her with a tired expression. "The ravens brought the news to all seven kingdoms." He gripped her shoulders.
“So? Will he be back soon? I must know which ship he's coming back on. I promised I'd wait for him at the docks and—”
“Brienne,” her father gave her that look, the look she'd seen when her mother and siblings died, a look she hadn't seen in a long time. He wrapped his arms around her and spoke in a gentle tone. “Jaime Lannister died by dragonfire after being found guilty.”
If her father hadn't held her, she would have fainted right then and there.