What Was Left

Chapter 9

"Well, I'll be fooked up the arse!" Lord Bronn the Master of Coin, heralded in his own unique fashion, peering over Ser Davos Seaworth's shoulder, halting their barely civil conversation in the Small Council chamber.

"Ser Jaime!" Samwell Tarly, Grande Maester of The Six Kingdoms, proclaimed looking up in shock from his seat at the council table.

Bronn eyed the Kingslayer with an amused yet stunned expression. "Jaime Fooking Lannister." He chuckled, as if he should have known that the same man who had been either brave enough, or fool-hearty enough, to charge a dragon on the Gold Road would not be felled by a few falling chunks of rock.

Jaime simply glared at him as he entered the room behind Tyrion. During the time since his talk with King Bran earlier, Jaime had bathed and groomed, and was now outfitted in a grand suit of Lannister leather armor that Tyrion had stored away for him. He appeared a stately glorious lion, true to his name and Sigil. If those in the room had not known better, they would have thought him freshly arrived in the capital from Casterly Rock.

Davos turned and followed Jaime with his eyes, dumbfounded with surprise. Clearing his throat, he was at last able to speak. "Back from the dead." The Onion Knight acknowledged.

"It would seem, Ser Davos." Jaime agreed, only his eyes giving hint to the discomfort he felt at the scrutiny of the prying gazes from the council.

Tyrion was immediately annoyed at his fellow members of King Bran's inner circle. "Honestly, you would think we had never seen someone recovered from injury before." He said dismissively, suddenly feeling very protective of his brother.

"It is quite a bit more remarkable than that, Lord Hand." Ser Davos answered.

"That's a Godsdamn understatement." Bronn chuckled, finding the whole situation a great comedy.

Sam Tarly stood, examining him from a distance. "How are you feeling, Ser Jaime?" He asked with concern, but still not quite comfortable in his new commanding role.

Even during his time at Winterfell, Jaime had barely noticed the awkward man, far too young to have reached the station he now held. Strangely, Jaime was grateful for Tarly's consideration. "I am quite well, Grand Maester. Thank you." Jaime answered.

"I am glad to hear it." Sam smiled. "If you should need anything, please do not hesitate to call upon me any time." He offered kindly. Jaime bowed his head in appreciative acceptance.

Jaime glanced over those in attendance waiting for King Bran. He swallowed the self conscious knot in his chest. He was once the greatest fighter in the realm. He himself had sat at the very table which took up most of the room, long before any of them had even imagined serving in their revered roles. Why was it he who should feel so nervous and out of place? Clearing his throat, Jaime tried his best to laugh off their ogling.

"Judging from your reactions, it appears you have all believed the exaggerated reports of my death." He chuckled, trying to paint them as the fools.

Bronn gave a sideways snicker. "It's not our reactions that you need to worry about." He remarked, smirking. Everyone knew that Jaime had fathered the Lord Commander's child, and had unceremoniously left her before she had even become aware of the babe. Brienne of Tarth had not so much as spoken Jaime Lannister's name to any of them, undoubtedly burying her anger deep. She was a formidable woman. He would not have missed this particular reunion for all the whores in Kings Landing.

As if on cue, Brienne strode commandingly into the room, proud and tall in her golden Kingsguard armor. She took Jaime's breath away. For an instant, she did not see him, her mind focused on the matters she wished to discuss with the council. It gave him a moment to lose himself in the image of her. His blood rushed at the memory of the passions they had shared. His tongue tasted the sweetness of her kiss. His heart raced with the eternal love he held for her. The very bones within his skin ached at her power and loveliness. For so long he had dreamed of the magnificent woman before him, now, he could only gaze upon her from a distance. She had been his, and he had gloried in their love. It was real, the most genuine emotion he had ever known, and here she was, so close to him again. His breath stopped when he realized that Oathkeeper still hung proudly at her side. She still held the symbol of love which he had given to her, his own heart. It gave Jaime hope. He would only enjoy that buoyant optimism of his first sight of her for a moment. Then, she saw him.