#briennejamie

Brienne thrust a sword towards him, and Jamie reflexively took a step back. His mind noted that it was the hilt and not the point being offered him – not that the distinction meant much to one of his kind.“Here. You should have this. You might…you might need it if we’re attacked again.”

Jamie arched and eyebrow and gave her his most condescending smile. “I know you haven’t had proper training in the craft, but surely you’ve heard some tales of me. I’m not famous for stabbing my enemies to death with a bit of metal.”

Once he’d dreamed he would be – but that dream had died along with Aerys and his Kingsguard. Or perhaps years earlier, when he’d given up his humanity to follow his sister and protect her.

The wench held her ground. She had the stubborn expression of a mule, along with its brains and beauty. “I’ve heard the tale that tells how you killed your king with a sword. And you grabbed the Goat’s dagger to cut my bonds last night. Magic is slow; steel is fast.”

Her magic wasn’t slow – it had burst out like a storm when Vargo had threatened her, raw and powerful and immediate. It had trampled the seals the boy king from the North had placed on him and bound him to her service, without any of the careful chants and spell circles he’d been taught were necessary. It was all the more galling that she hadn’t meant to summon him at all. The most powerful witch he’d met since Robert’s Rebellion, and all she wanted was to play at being Arthur Dayne.

He supposed he could sympathize, having once wanted the same thing himself. But such dreams died, and his had left him here. He could only imagine where hers would leave her.

She was still holding the sword out to him. He was loathe to show how little he wanted to be near it, but the witchling was playing dumb. Even untutored children knew a spirit’s greatest weakness. He waggled his fingers, showing off the burns that disfigured his right hand. “Cold iron and steel, mistress. No doubt the tale you heard of Aerys’ death mentioned my souvenirs. I only held the dagger last night for moments, so that burn will fade in time, but I’m afraid I won’t be doing any impressive feats of swordsmanship for you. You might find me less useful with no hands than with one.”

Brienne flinched at the sight of his scarred hand, but she didn’t back down. “The hilt’s wrapped in leather. I paid extra coin to see it done right. It shouldn’t burn you.”

Cersei had had a sword forged for him made of pure gold. It was a beautiful thing, but little more than a toy; it sparkled in the sunlight and let him look the part of the knight he’d briefly been. He could kill with it, if he was quick, but he couldn’t fight with it. Gold was too weak. A proper metaphor for whatever he’d become; deadly, but hollow.

Brienne had wrapped the damn hilt in leather.

url graphic: for @briennejamie​

thank you omg you are too sweet 💖

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comment: i LOVE your blog okay your edits are pretty af omg i can only hope to one day master such coloring lmao also the fact that you watch dark!!! and is2g it’s like you knew yellow is my favorite color lmao all the subtle hints of yellow all over your theme I DIG OKAY ✨

LMAO

SHE HAS LIKE...A BUMP ON THE COLLAR BONE AND THATS LITERALLY IT

I

AM

FUCKING

SCREAMING

"SIKEEEEE...LOOK AT ME TAKING YOURS OFF NOW"