Chapter Text
He wasn’t sure how long he had been riding. Since he had left King’s Landing, the snow had kept falling down on him, covering his shoulders and his horse’s neck; it had become more and more difficult to see the road in front of him, since the wind kept throwing snowflakes right into his face, forcing him to close his eyes. It would have been wise to stop somewhere safe to pass the night, but he couldn’t stop: he was too afraid to stop.
Riding was the only thing preventing him to think, and to ask himself dangerous questions: if it were for him, he would have rode all the way to Winterfell without stopping once, maybe he would have reached the Wall and beyond, just to disappear in the desolated lands of the North, to leave all his thoughts and tribulations behind….but suddenly his horse started to slow his pace, thick white clouds of breath coming out of its mouth, and it started to whine exhausted. It couldn’t go on any longer, it needed to rest before collapsing on the ground.
Jaime sighed, looking around for a place to stop: suddenly, he spotted a rocky mountain behind the trees at his right, and squeezing his eyes he could bet there was the entrance of a cave right on the front of it. With a relieved sigh, he pushed his trembling horse towards it.
It had been a real challenge lightening a fire inside the cave with only one hand, but in the end he finally managed it. He sat near it, exhausted, trying to warm his freezing limbs up.
Just a little task like lightening the fire had made him realize how much the court life had spoiled him. Now being completely alone, without anyone to rely on except himself, made him understand how difficult and unforgiving the real world could be. Suddenly, the words of Locke came to his head like a knife.
“All you lords and ladies…you think the only thing that matters is gold.”.
Despite how much it bothered him, he knew that sadistic bastard was right…how could his gold and title help him right now?
He was hungry, he was freezing, he was tired…he desperately wanted another human being to share his fears, so much that he would have given his other hand to have Bronn there with him mocking and laughing. Maybe he should have waited for him before leaving King’s Landing, he would have been such an help…but he had been more focused on running away as fast as he could.
He sighed, then he lay down on his back near the fire, trying to get some sleep, but all the thoughts that swirled in his mind kept haunting him without mercy…what will be of him once he had reached Winterfell? Alone, maimed, a Lannister…he surely didn’t expect a welcome reception from the Starks. And how about the Dragon Queen? Not only he had killed her father and ended the Targaryen supremacy over Westeros, but he had also charged the girl herself with a speer just few months before…why would she trust him?
And those undead creatures…a shiver made the hair on his nape erect in fear. How could they stop them? And how could he make a difference in defeating them?
Then, after all these terrible thoughts, he allowed himself to think of the most terrifying one: his sister.
He could still see her face when she had nodded to the Mountain…he couldn’t believe it.
His jaw clenched, while his left hand gripped the wrist right behind his golden hand, his fingers penetrating the skin with anger. He had loved her, killed for her, sacrifice everything just to be by her side…and once he had dared to think otherwise, she had threatened to kill him. That fucking cunt.
Olenna was right, after all…he really was a fool.
He rolled on his left side, facing the fire and curling into a fetal position, to warm up his body and try to calm his anger…fuck everybody. He had nothing left to lose. He had nothing at all.
A tear spilled from the corner of his eye, and he hated himself for being so weak…maybe he could just die there, in that cave, and let everything behind him…he just needed to relax, and let the cold do the rest…
“You coward. One misfortune and you’re giving up?”
He startled as those words came to his mind. He opened his eyes, and watch the flames dancing in front of him.
A smirk curved his lips. No, he could not die. He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him surrender. He would show her he could be even more pig-head stubborn than her. He closed his eyes, suddenly relaxed and amused, despite how absurd that feeling could be in his situation. But he thanked the Seven, for he had something left after all: a big, graceless wench he could tease, and a pair of blue eyes he couldn’t wait to see again.
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Podrick was late.
Brienne frowned, looking for any sign of him as she stood on her horse at the gates of King’s Landing. The last time she had seen him was when he had disappeared inside one of the doors of the Dragon Pit, with Ser Bronn beside him.
It was almost sunset, and everybody from the meeting had left King’s Landing hours before; she watched the passing of people in front of her, peasants and farmers mostly, returning home from a hard work day. They all look tired and gloomy, with heavy cloaks and scarves covering their faces as they carried their saddlebags or wheelbarrows. She looked at them, saddening: how many of them will die in the next months? How many of them will turn into those horrible creatures? Will she be transformed as well? Shivers run through her spine, and almost as he had sensed her fear, her horse started whining and stomped his hooves down to the ground, startled. She promptly leaned down to him, caressing his neck. “It’s okay, boy, shhh….”. The horse snorted, but soon he stopped squirming, calmed by the sound of her voice.
She glanced once again over the doors, but Podrick still didn’t appear. She was starting to worry.
What if he had gotten into some trouble? She didn’t know how much Ser Bronn could be trusted, but every time they’ve met him, he had always been friendly towards them, especially the lad. She could remember when he had given Pod lord Tyrion’s axe, back when Jaime had sent her to her quest to find Sansa…
Her heart ached at the thought of him. Jaime.
He had been so cold, and bitter, like she was a stranger to him. She had just tried to talk some sense into him, but then he had brought up the loyalty matter, almost blaming her for fighting on Sansa’s side…when it was him in the first place who had entrusted her with his honour and sent her to save the girl. Had he forgotten? Was he really that blinded from his love for his sister to forget anything else?
But you are blinded too. You knew someday you would have to fight him. He’s not your friend.
She shut her eyes, swallowing hard not to cry.
She grabbed the reins, furious. Enough of this nonsense. She had to get back to Winterfell, to lady Sansa and lady Arya, as soon as possible.
She kicked her horse’s side, guiding him through the gates, heading for the Red Keep. Podrick should better have a good excuse for his late.
It had started lightly snowing, and people were picking up the pace to get home; the children were looking at the sky mesmerized, all wide eyes and mouths open, wandering what was that strange phenomena that they were witnessing. Brienne smiled bitterly: they certainly had never experienced winter before, especially in King’s Landing…and in their naivety this was a new and funny thing to enjoy. Not the prospect of a cold, dreadful and possibly fatal season that was coming down them all.
Shivering, she spun her horse to gallop, and soon she was flanking the left side of the Dragonpit. Maybe looking for Podrick in the last place she had seen him would be wise, perhaps he was waiting for her there…though she doubted it, but at least it was a start.
She entered the pit, trotting towards the centre of the arena, where a thin layer of snow had already covered the curtains and the chairs, and everything was like trapped in a bubble of silence.
It was beautiful…so still and peaceful.
As she had guessed, there was nobody around. She flanked the inner side of the pit, listening to the crunching noise of the dragon skulls crushing under her horse hooves, until she reached the door through which Podrick had disappeared and the beginning of the meeting.
The door was black and looked sinister, and she started being nervous for real. She desperately wanted Podrick back, and to ride away as soon as possible…why were they still here?
She dismounted her horse, and entered the door, being swallowed by darkness, only few torches were illuminating the corridor which stretched in front of her. She began to walk faster, hand on the hilt of Oathkeeper, the anxiousness in her chest rising step by step.
She finally reached the end of the corridor, only to find herself outside the pit, once again, in a sort of courtyard surrounded by trees covered with snowflakes. She looked around, confused and trembling.
“Podrick?” she called, knowing there would be no answer, but the silence was freaking her out.
She walked towards the trees, calling again, louder “Podrick?”. Still no answer.
This is silly, she thought. There’s no way he would have remained here in the pit for all this time. He probably went to a tavern somewhere in the city with Ser Bronn.
She turned, resigned to reach her horse, when she heard a noise coming from the brush…something like a whistle. She stared at the trees, waiting, and then she heard the noise again. Inhaling deeply, she slowly unsheathed Oathkeeper and, carefully, followed the direction of the noise, that sounded louder and louder with every step the closer she get.
Her heart pounded violently against her chest plate, but she had to know what that sound were…it was like a calling, something for only her to hear. And even if that sounded ridiculous to say the least, it was the only explanation she could give herself.
Finally, she reached a clearing in the brush, all covered in white…it almost reminded her of the woods near Winterfell when she had rescued Lady Sansa from the Bolton men.
Again, she heard the whistle, and startled she looked in front of her, where she saw a man, mounting a dark horse, perfectly still. She gripped the hilt of her sword tighter, trembling with anticipation, ready for an attack. Then she looked better…it was Podrick.
She sighed, relaxing, and she put Oathkeeper back in her scabbard, before approaching her squire.
“Podrick, where the hell have you been? I’ve been waiting for you for hours by now and…”
It was only a matter of seconds.
Suddenly, Podrick turned his head towards her, his eyes wide with terror, and screamed: “My lady, no, run…!”
Before he could finish his sentence, his horse jerked forward, and he was pulled up in the air, his legs squirming gracelessly under him, his hands tied behind his back, and a noose tied around his neck.
“PODRICK!” Brienne yelled, running as fast as she could, without having time to think straight, and when she reached him, she hugged his legs, trying to lift him so the rope wouldn’t strangle him. He tried to breath, gaping, but the noose was too tight, and his face was gradually turning bluish.
She looked up at him, embracing his legs even tighter, and feeling absolutely helpless. If she left him, he would be strangled for good.
“Podrick…” she cried, watching her squire gaping, like a dying fish on the ground….and that was what was happening. He was dying.
All at once, she was surrounded by soldiers, all wearing the black armour of the Kingsguard…or Queensguard, more correctly.
They were at least fifteen, twenty men, and they were slowly approaching her, their swords and spears pointed towards her. She watched them, still holding Podrick’s legs, her all body trembling with fear and anger.
“M’..lad…” she heard above her, and she turned her face to Podrick, who was looking down at her, tears running down his livid cheeks.
“I’m….sorry….” he gaped, and before she could answer him, she felt several hands grabbing her, pulling her behind. She struggled to keep her hold on Podrick, kicking some of the guards who shouted in pain, but they were too many…and when they seized her arms behind her, she watched Podrick’s body fall again, and this time, she heard the unmistakable sound of his neck breaking.
“NOOOOOOOOOO!” She shrieked, falling on her knees, and her roar of pain echoed all around the woods, before a hood were placed on her head, and everything went dark…she felt her hands were tied behind her back, and several hands were fumbling around her waist, unbuckling Oathkeeper. But for the first time in many years of fighting, she had no energy left in her. Do what you want with me, she thought sobbing, I don’t deserve to live another day.