A Vow Without Honor

The Bonds

Brienne

If she had been honest with herself, Brienne never truly expected to find Myra Stark. She was aware that to come as far as she had – escaping Dragonstone of all places – defied the expectations of most, and she had always believed in the strength of hope, but Brienne had also learned long ago to counter, to balance, that hope with a good deal of realism. A girl alone in the wilds did not stand much chance of surviving; a girl alone with the Kingslayer, perhaps less so. It eased the burden of failure, or so she told herself.

And yet, despite the odds, Myra Stark was sitting not twenty feet away from her, scolding the Kingslayer himself over his inability to sit still as she examined the makeshift bandage on his leg.

It was...quite the sight.

Myra had told her of the attack some time in the night when Jaime Lannister had drifted off to sleep, though it required a good deal of prodding on her part. Though the girl had seemed willing enough to take her vow and allow her to remain, she did not seem content in doing much else around her. If Brienne wandered too close, whatever conversation she held would die off; if she looked in her direction, Myra would meet her gaze and wait until she had turned away. There was always a considerable amount of distance between them and a dagger constantly within reach.

The young woman Lady Catelyn had tearfully described to her had been one full of life and compassion, who would sooner see herself put to the sword than to witness the suffering of another. But war, she knew, changed many things. In one night, her entire world had burned. Brienne could not imagine the impact of two months.

That may have been why she started keeping her distance, watching and waiting as the days began to pass, though it only seemed to make it easier to ignore her rather than allow Myra to approach on her own. The girl had no interest in her. She only had time for Jaime Lannister.

Even now, with her sword and whetstone laid out, her eyes fully, and obviously, focused on them, Myra and Jaime conversed as if they were the only two people in the forest. Only here did she see the true nature of the girl break through. She smiled for the Kingslayer, and laughed, and touched him gently when they grew quiet. And when he was not looking, her gaze would remain, softening.

He had no idea how she looked at him.

And she had no idea how he looked at her.

She'd never met the Kingslayer before now, but she had heard the tales. He was a handsome man, the most handsome in the Seven Kingdoms if the gossip was to be believed, with his golden hair, green eyes, and wicked, prideful smile. He was the sort of man every woman pictured when they thought of a proper knight, despite the man doing everything in his power to be anything but.

Like most children, she had been told the tale by her father of how Ser Jaime Lannister, sworn protector of the king, forsook his sacred vows by murdering King Aerys. And to add to his dishonorable nature, he engaged in a relationship with his sister, fathered her children, and pushed Bran Stark from a window when he discovered the truth.

Brienne might have thought all the tales were wrong looking at him now.

Relief was how Brienne would describe it. She was no poet, and even in her head, the words sounded like a silly fantasy, but that was the only way she could make sense of it. The way a tired man looked when he was finally able to rest after a long day's work, the way a sailor sighed after a bad storm had passed, the way a young soldier counts his blessings when he hears that there is to be no battle, that was how Jaime Lannister looked at Myra Stark.

Pure and utter relief.

That was not the look of a man who had attempted to murder the girl's brother, or one who was in love with his sister.