Jaime lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how the hell he was going to sneak out of the Red Keep with two guards at his door and two more at the window. Tyrion was serious about keeping him in King's Landing. Although Jaime wasn't officially a prisoner, he sure as hell felt like one. Tyrion was forcing him to take a position on the small council, and he absolutely hated the idea. All he really wanted was to return to Casterly Rock, even if Bran never granted him the title that went along with it. He wanted to go home. He wanted to forget about all the terrible things he had done. And more than anything, he wanted to leave Brienne in peace.
A sudden knock at the door jolted Jaime from his reverie, and he groaned inwardly. "Go away, Tyrion."
A second later, the door opened, and an all too familiar voice said, "It's not Tyrion. You should probably be thankin' the gods for that."
Jaime groaned again, sitting up in the bed to face Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, yet one more person he had no desire to see. "What in the seven hells are you doing here?"
Bronn closed the door behind him and ambled toward the bed. With a shrug, he said, "Just came to annoy the hell out of you. Didn't have anything better to do."
"No, that's not what I mean. I mean, what are you doing here in King's Landing, in the Red Keep? Aren't you supposed to be at Highgarden, or better yet, dead in a ditch somewhere?"
Bronn leaned his hip against the footboard of Jaime's bed and laughed. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Mean you'd have one less person to give you shit now that you're back, wouldn't it?"
Jaime shook his head, still not entirely sure why Bronn was in his room. "Really, what are you doing here?"
Bronn squared his shoulders, and with something akin to pride, he said, "I'm the new Master of Coin."
"Like hell you are."
Bronn laughed again. "When your brother and King Bran were putting together the new small council, there were very few options open to them. After all, just about everyone else was dead. Tyrion knows I know the value of a coin, so he gave me the appointment. So, not only am I Lord of Highgarden and Lord Paramount of the Reach, but I'm also Master of Coin."
Jaime fought the urge to groan again. Instead, he looked away and pushed himself off the bed. He was still bare-chested from the exam Samwell Tarly had given him, and he started looking for his shirt. He felt Bronn's eyes on him as he searched the room.
"Well, don't you look like shit," Bronn said.
"Oh, thank you for noticing." Jaime found his shirt and shrugged it over his head, feeling a bit more in control now that he was dressed.
"What happened to you? Sam didn't go into detail."
Jaime gritted his teeth. He should have known that Samwell Tarly couldn't keep a secret. He turned his head and looked at Bronn. "I survived the collapse of the Red Keep, and Tyrion helped me escape. I've been in the Stormlands for the past six months, doing my damnedest not to die."
"Did you ever think maybe coming back here wasn't the best idea? I mean, you did walk out on the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and I can only imagine she wants your hide."
Jaime laughed, the sound hollow in his throat. "Do you think if I had known that Brienne was here, I would have ever set foot in King's Landing again? I thought she was back at Winterfell, protecting the Queen in the North. I had no idea that Tyrion had called her to the capital and made her Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. I don't even understand why he did it. Brienne's loyalty, her sworn oath, was to Sansa Stark, not to Bran. It makes no sense that she should shift her loyalties just because the war is over. That's not Brienne. Brienne doesn't break oaths. She keeps all her promises, no matter what the cost."
"I don't think she had much choice in the matter," Bronn replied. "King Bran requested her himself, and Queen Sansa must have felt obliged to honor that request because she's the one who sent Brienne south."
"It's nice that Queen Sansa and King Bran feel they can play with other people's lives so easily. Brienne may be a sworn sword, but she's not chattel, she's not a piece of property that can be passed back and forth between the Starks whenever they see fit. It's disgraceful, if you ask me, and Brienne deserves better."
Bronn let out a long, low whistle. "You've really got it bad, don't you?"
"What are you talking about?" Jaime's eyes narrowed on Bronn, not quite understanding the question.
"You've got it bad for the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. And it isn't just that you want to fuck her, is it? You're in love with her, aren't you?"
Jaime shook his head, tearing his eyes away from Bronn and gazing idly about the room. "I left her for Cersei. Everything was perfect, everything was wonderful between us, and then, in the final hour, I turned my back on her and walked away. I did what I did for Cersei, and for her alone."
"Horseshit."
Jaime looked at Bronn again. "I beg your pardon?"
"Horseshit," Bronn repeated, just as much conviction in his tone as the first time he had said it. "Whatever you did that night, you didn't do it for Cersei. I know that's what you want us all to believe, but you didn't work so hard to be a better man just so you could throw it all away and go back to your bitch sister. I may not be as clever as your brother, but even I know that. So why did you really go? To kill her?"
Jaime clenched his hand at his side, trying to rein in his emotions, trying to keep himself from saying too much. Brienne thought the worst of him, and maybe it would be better if she continued to do so. Jaime was in no mood to defend himself to anyone. Despite his good intentions, he'd made a mess of his mission to kill Cersei. He'd hurt Brienne, and then, when he'd had the chance to end his sister's life, he'd failed, choosing mercy over justice, and there was simply no way he could defend his actions to anyone.
"I had my chance to kill Cersei," Jaime replied, "and I didn't. Instead, I took her in my arms and I held her as we both waited to die."
Bronn pushed himself away from the bed. Now, he looked disgusted. "You're a fucking idiot, do you know that?"
"Yeah, I've got a pretty good idea."
"Look, I'm not exactly all that fond of your lady love. She's far too self-righteous for my liking, and quite frankly, she scares me just a bit. And she's not all that fond of me either. But even I know she doesn't deserve what you've done to her. So, what are you gonna do about it?"
"Do about it? I'm not going to do anything about it. If I had my way, I'd leave the Red Keep right now and never come back, but my blasted brother has other ideas, has guards at my door keeping me here. I want nothing more than to leave, to give Brienne the peace she deserves, but it seems that's not to be my fate. Fucking Tyrion," Jaime swore under his breath.
Bronn chuckled. "Yeah, we say that a lot around here."
Jaime was tempted to laugh, but he didn't want Bronn to think he was winning the argument.
"When's the last time you got drunk?" Bronn asked. "Really good and pissed?"
Jaime remembered the last time he'd been drunk. It had been the night he'd first fallen into Brienne's bed. In truth, he hadn't been quite as drunk as he'd pretended to be. At the time, he'd thought it would make things just a little bit easier for Brienne. But Jaime was not about to admit any of that to Bronn, so he replied, "I'm not my brother. I don't get drunk."
"Well, today, you do." Bronn picked up the leather tunic sitting on the chest at the bottom of Jaime's bed and threw it to him. "Put this on and come with me. I could use a drink."
Jaime eyed Bronn doubtfully. The last thing he wanted was to sit beside Bronn in some noisy tent, being needled about his feelings for Brienne. But the alternative was being stuck in his bedchamber until Tyrion decided to set him free, and he hated that idea even more.
"Fine," Jaime said as he finally shrugged into the tunic, "but I've got very little gold, so you're paying."
Bronn snorted. "I'm the Master of Coin. If I can't buy my old friend, Jaime Lannister, a drink, what's the point of stealing from the crown in the first place?"
"I hope you're joking."
"Only a little. Get dressed and let's go."
Jaime pulled his tunic closed and struggled to secure the fasteners with his one good hand. As soon as he managed to close the last one, he followed Bronn out into the hallway, the guards instantly stopping him.
"Where do you think you're going?" one of the guards asked as he barred Jaime's way with his lance.
"He's goin' with me," Bronn answered. "You got a problem with that, take it up with little Lord Lannister."
"The Hand of the King instructed us to—"
"Fuck the Hand of the King," Bronn said. "I'll guard the prisoner, bring him back safe and sound. After all, I'm a seasoned knight and he's only got one hand. I'm sure you've heard how good I am, and how loyal to the crown."
The guards eyed each other uncertainly, but before either one of them could protest, Bronn looked at Jaime again. "Come on," he said, "let me buy you a drink."
Jaime pushed the lance aside, and the guard offered no further resistance. Bronn wasn't just a sellsword anymore, or a knight, he was a member of the small council, and doubtless, that meant something around the halls of the Red Keep.
Jaime followed Bronn through a maze of corridors and out into the midafternoon sun. Within a quarter of an hour, they were in the heart of the city, sitting at a long, low table in one of the many tents that had sprung up within the capital. The tent tavern had one solid wall, the broken remains of what had once been a building, but the rest was all canvas and tent poles, a makeshift tavern for a city that was barely standing on its own.
Bronn ordered them a couple of beers and leaned back in his chair, staring thoughtfully at Jaime. Jaime, for his part, had no interest in making small talk with the man across from him. Instead, he kept his eyes on the room, scanning the crowd, absorbing the small details he saw around him. Although people were laughing and the wine was flowing freely, there was an undercurrent of tension in the atmosphere. The people around him looked thin, haggard, tired. Even in their revelry, they seemed despondent, and Jaime found the whole thing quite unsettling.
"What do you find so interesting?" Bronn asked after a time.
Jaime still refused to look at Bronn, but he answered just the same. "The city is dying, isn't it?"
"Well, Daenerys Targaryen certainly did her damnedest to kill it, but somehow, it survived. Kings Landing's already got four taverns and six brothels – and that's just inside the city walls – can't really call that death, can you?"
A serving wench arrived with their drinks, and Jaime was finally forced to turn his attention to Bronn.
Jaime lifted his tankard and took a swig of beer before answering. "Four taverns and six brothels are not going to do anyone any good if the people are starving."
"Oh, now, you're wrong about that. Four taverns and six brothels are about the only things that are going to do people good at a time like this. If you can't afford to eat, at least you can afford to fuck and drink. And if you can fuck and drink, who needs food?"
"People need food. People can't exist on fucking and drinking alone."
Bronn laughed. "Sounds like you've never met your own brother."
"Tyrion's not really drinking and whoring anymore, is he?"
Bronn shook his head. He wrapped a hand around his tankard and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Nah. He mostly just bitches about being sober and celibate. He pretends to hate it, but really, he secretly loves playing the martyr. It gets old after a while."
"What's being done to help the people?" Jaime asked, his mind still on the smallfolk.
"What is this? A small council meeting? Why do you care?"
"I spent a lot of time with the smallfolk after I escaped King's Landing. I've seen their plight firsthand, and I just want to make sure that everything that can be done for them is being done for them."
Bronn sighed heavily. "Look, if I give you an accounting of all the charitable projects your brother has in place to help the poor and the needy, will you please just shut the fuck up about it for the rest of the night and get drunk with me?"
"For the rest of the night? It's only the middle of the afternoon."
"Well," Bronn said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small purse, "I've got a bag of gold that says we can stay here all night." He threw the bag onto the table. "So, what do you say?"
Jaime stared at the bag of gold. Suddenly, it didn't look as small as it had a moment earlier. It was going to take a long time to spend that much gold if all they did was drink beer for the rest of the night. But Jaime had nowhere else to go. His only alternatives were returning to the Red Keep or trying to escape King's Landing, and he knew Bronn was never going to let him escape. For better or for worse, his best option was staying there and drinking himself into a stupor. All at once, it didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.
"Fine," Jaime said. "Tell me what I want to know and I'm yours for the night."
"Whoa," Bronn said, sitting back in his chair and putting some distance between them. "I didn't ask for that. All the ladies might wanna fuck you, but you're just not my type."
"You know what I meant."
"Yeah, I know what you meant." Bronn lifted his tankard and downed nearly half his beer. When he lowered the tankard again, he said, "So, here it is."
Bronn spent the next half hour filling Jaime in on everything that was being done for the citizens of King's Landing. Tyrion had made sure that food stores were being equitably distributed amongst everyone in the city. Supplies were coming in from all Six Kingdoms on a daily basis, though it never quite seemed to be enough. Every able-bodied man, woman, and child had been given the opportunity to work in exchange for food, and there was an active effort, not just to clean up the city and rebuild, but to create a sewer system beneath its streets to ensure the health of the citizenry. It was slow going, but it was going. And once things were settled in King's Landing, the small council intended to turn its efforts outward toward the countryside and beyond.
"Is that enough for ya?" Bronn asked as he finally finished, lifting up his tankard and downing the rest of his beer.
"I suppose, though I wish more was being done for the rest of the Six Kingdoms and not just King's Landing."
"Things are bad enough in King's Landing. Let's handle one problem at a time." Bronn turned his attention to a passing serving wench and raised his hand. "Two more beers."
Jaime watched as the dark-haired beauty winked at Bronn. She left the table without even a glance in Jaime's direction.
"Well, how the tides have turned," Jaime said with a bitter laugh.
Bronn looked at him again. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's just, I remember a time when every woman in the room had eyes only for me, and you found it quite irritating. Now, it seems to be the other way around, doesn't it? I haven't gotten a single glance since the moment we stepped into this tent."
"And why should you have? You look like shit, and you're clearly broke. You may still have a pretty face, but things being the way they are here in King's Landing, power and wealth trump pretty and poor every day."
Jaime shook his head and lifted his tankard again, downing the rest of his beer in one swig. By the time he was done, the serving wench had returned with another round. She put the flagons on the table, took a couple of coins from Bronn, and then ran her hand down his thigh before walking away. It was obvious from the look in her eyes that she was hoping to do more than just serve him drinks before the end of the night.
The girl left the table, and Jaime's eyes followed her, though his mind was somewhere else entirely. He wondered what Brienne was doing at that very moment and how she would be spending the night. There wasn't another woman in all the world that Jaime wanted to be with, but he knew he could never be with Brienne again.
"Don't tell me you're jealous," Bronn said with a laugh.
"What?" Jaime pulled his eyes away from the girl and looked at Bronn. He hadn't quite heard what Bronn had accused him of.
"I've already staked my claim on her. If you want one, pick one of the others. Hell, as a welcome home present, I'll even pay for it."
Jaime shook his head. "No, no thank you."
"Yeah, didn't think so. You want something a lot blonder and a lot taller, don't you?"
Jaime didn't dignify that with a response. He just picked up the new tankard the girl had left for him and raised it up. "I thought you said we were going to drink. So, let's drink."