The Lion's change of heart

Prologue

JAIME

The day was bitter and cold. Brienne had probably gone off to make water. To his side, Ser Cleos Frey was snoring gently, a surprise since Cersei would surely slice him open from throat to gut after hearing the details of the new terms. She was Queen Regent and had never liked being told what to do. Even as a child, she had always been the more intimidating one. Not that anyone could tell; Jaime had always kept his exterior as honed as her cunning mind. From their golden spun curls to the shape of their lips, they were identical in every way.  

Jaime tried shifting himself over to his left, but the iron manacles on his wrist and matching ones on his feet joined by a heavy chain almost a foot long made that impossible. He still felt sleep deprived and they had a long way to go. Crossing the Red Fork would be the worst part; Ser Edmure- Lord Edmure soon- had his men stationed at every bank of the Trident. But hours on a horse’s saddle had taught him to snatch periods of sleep without falling off. Besides, the Lion had had his share of being trampled on by destriers.

He spotted Brienne walking towards them, sword in hand. Beneath her thin rough spun breeches her armor glinted in the sunlight. I am shackled, yet she is still afraid of me. Not a surprise since great men has pissed their breeches when Jaime rode out to tourney matches, lance in hand.

 “Untie me, wench. Perhaps we will be better protected against outlaws with my sword hand not shackled to me waist. You do not want Lord Beric Dondarrion’s lot to get his hands on us. His scum would not spare you, as broad and homely as you are.”

“You will address me as Lady Brienne, Kingslayer. ”

“My name is Ser Jaime. Not Kingslayer.”

“So you deny slaying Aerys?”

“No. Do you deny your sex? If so, unlace your bodice and prove it.”

“Be quiet Ser, unless you mean to be gagged as well.”

She looked like a peasant famer’s daughter, yet spoke like a highborn and dressed like a knight, dagger and longsword dangling from her waist. He amused himself by picturing her dressed up in one of Cersei’s gowns, decked up in jewels and heels. Might as well picture an ox attending a royal feast.

He himself was dressed in old Maester’s robes. They did not help in keeping the biting wind out. It was still summer in the lower parts of Westeros, but winter was coming.  

This was an intro/ failed attempt to write a complete chapter but the idea came to me today and I impatiently wanted to post it up.  There is obviously nothing new here yet, but more will be integrated soon into what's already known. Also, I need time to get my timeline and map correct. If you spot any errors, comment below.