#ronnet connington

Connington laughed. Jaime did not.

(ASOS, Jaime IX)

As a crowning tribute to his excellence, often as the prize that rewards his most difficult achievement, the love of a fay is bestowed upon him by the narrator of his exploits. For the purposes of romance the fay exists that she may set a seal upon the hero’s valor and beauty by granting him her favor, or that she may afford an opportunity for him to display his courage by demanding of him an apparently impossible adventure.

(Studies in the Fairy Mythology of Arthurian Romance by Lucy Allen Paton)

But the ambiguity perceived by Mann and Keats to exist in the character of La Belle Dame sans Merci is a subtle one, and a pattern much easier to identify involves the fairy’s conflict with a mortal woman. […] Undine reflects these contrasting facets in the personalities of the water nymph and her mortal rival, Bertalda, and shares with The Magic Ring the conflict between the home, with its secure circle of family and duty, and the exciting world of the imagination and adventure which beckons to the hero.

(La Belle Dame sans Merci and the Aesthetics of Romanticism by Barbara Fass)

This time she dreamed that she was home again, at Evenfall. Through the tall arched windows of her lord father’s hall she could see the sun just going down. I was safe here. I was safe.

She was dressed in silk brocade, a quartered gown of blue and red decorated with golden suns and silver crescent moons. On another girl it might have been a pretty gown, but not on her. She was twelve, ungainly and uncomfortable, waiting to meet the young knight her father had arranged for her to marry, a boy six years her senior, sure to be a famous champion one day. She dreaded his arrival. Her bosom was too small, her hands and feet too big. Her hair kept sticking up, and there was a pimple nestled in the fold beside her nose. “He will bring a rose for you,” her father promised her, but a rose was no good, a rose could not keep her safe. It was a sword she wanted. Oathkeeper. I have to find the girl. I have to find his honor.

Finally the doors opened, and her betrothed strode into her father’s hall. She tried to greet him as she had been instructed, only to have blood come pouring from her mouth. She had bitten her tongue off as she waited. She spat it at the young knight’s feet, and saw the disgust on his face. “Brienne the Beauty,” he said in a mocking tone. “I have seen sows more beautiful than you.” He tossed the rose in her face. As he walked away, the griffins on his cloak rippled and blurred and changed to lions. Jaime! she wanted to cry. Jaime, come back for me!

(AFFC, Brienne VIII)

Connington glanced into the pit. “The bear was less hairy than that freak, I’ll—”

Jaime’s golden hand cracked him across the mouth so hard the other knight went stumbling down the steps. His lantern fell and smashed, and the oil spread out, burning. “You are speaking of a highborn lady, ser. Call her by her name. Call her Brienne.”

“All that hair makes you look like Robert.”

“Robert’s beard was black. Mine is gold.”

“Gold? Or silver?” Cersei plucked a hair from beneath his chin and held it up. It was grey.

cersei hates his beard, his new attitude, and the fact that he lost a hand. most of all, she hates change. jaime is the most obvious target for her ire. her maids as well. easier to hate them for their faults (real or imagined) than face the fact that her own beauty may be slipping away.

Softer words may have swayed her, yet of late the very sight of her made him angry.

jaime & cersei are entering their breakup era. thank god!

It had been long years since Jaime had named any of his horses; he had seen too many die in battle, and that was harder when you named them. But when the Piper boy started calling them Honor and Glory, he laughed and let the names stand.

he named his new valyrian sword oathkeeper and now owns horses called honor and glory. it’s funny and ironic, but also aspirational, even if he doesn’t quite know that yet. he’ll wallow a bit longer.

The chambers stank of rotted food, and the rushes were crawling with vermin. As Jaime entered, he almost trod upon a rat. Payne’s greatsword rested on a trestle table, beside a whetstone and a greasy oilcloth. The steel was immaculate, the edge glimmering blue in the pale light, but elsewhere piles of soiled clothing were strewn about the floors, and and the bits of mail and armor scattered here and there were red with rust. Jaime could not count the broken wine jars. The man cares for naught but killing…

do you think he fucks? if so, i can’t imagine it’s consensual.

“They have lusty wenches in House Hayford. These are love bites, lad.”

The column kept its pace, north along the kingsroad, and each night Jaime found some private place to win himself more love bites.

sublimating his sexual desires into swordplay. freud would love this guy.

Jaime found himself wondering if Brienne might have passed this way before him.

they’re so obsessed with each other it makes me sick

Someone had broken her nose and knocked out half her teeth. The girl fell at Jaime’s feet when she saw him, sobbing and clinging to his leg with hysterical strength till Strongboar pulled her off.

“Take the whore as well,” Ser Bonifer urged. “You know the one. The girl from the dungeons.”

“Pia was born in this castle,” he told Ser Bonifer. “It is the only home she has ever known.”

“She is a font of corruption,” said Ser Bonifer. “I won’t have her near my men, flaunting her…parts.”

justice for pia of harrenhal and DEATH to ser bitchifer

“…the sight of Brienne naked might have made the bear flee in terror.” Connington laughed.

Jaime did not. “You speak as if you know the lady.”

“I was betrothed to her.”

That took him by surprise. Brienne had never mentioned a betrothal.

I don't usually give much authority to information outside of the core five books (and I include SSM in that, unfortunately, 'cause citations without peer-review aren't much use). I've plenty of time for theories and headcanons, but given how changeable Martin is I treat everything in TWoIaF, F&B, and so on as "Schrödinger Canon".

However, I will completely accept the words of House Connington that appeared on a single German cover of A Dance With Dragons! Because, to me, they seem so perfect.

Ein Grimmiger Feind, Ein Treuer Freund.

You can go a few ways with it, but as a lover of alliteration, my take is "A Fearsome Foe, A Faithful Friend", because...

They give House Connington the rare honour of having supportive, co-operative words, not really found outside of Stokeworth's "Proud To Be Faithful".

They suit Ronnet, a man defined by both his volatile anger and his unquestioning (but frequently questioned) loyalty.

They also imply some mercuriality, with a change from friend to foe necessitating a switch from one extreme to the other. That suits Ronnet, I feel, whose face-value assessment of Brienne and impulsive choice to be cruel to his almost-betrothed indicates someone without much care for middle ground. And I'd say that's demonstrated further by his interaction with Jaime, committing to his insults even after getting a golden backhand.