cowt 12 sett 2 M2: the last knight (asoiaf, brienne + sandor, jb, pg13)

[janie_tangerine]

“Never thought I’d say that, but your pretty boy hasn’t done wrong.”

 

Brienne had not expected Sandor Clegane to walk up to her while she stands guard outside — it’s her turn and technically Jaime should have joined her, but if they wanted to switch considering how tired he’s looked lately, well. She could do way worse than Clegane, but she has no idea what he’s talking about.

 

“Sorry?” She asks. “He hasn’t done what wrong?”

 

“Oh, because you weren’t there when he knighted you.”

 

Oh.

 

That.

 

“It was five days ago,” she shrugs. “And I don’t think it was — I mean, of course I always wanted it, but —”

 

“And what does it matter how long it was? I didn’t have the bloody time to find you on your own after either.” He breathes in. “By the way, I switched shifts with him.”

 

“I figured.”

 

“And you don’t mind?”

 

“He’s been sleeping on his feet since that battle, of course I don’t mind. And after I spent months traveling with you, I like to think you’d know that we don’t have a problem or anything, so why would I?”

 

He snorts. “I don’t know,” he says, “no one ever thought me a pinnacle of knighthood.”

 

“Anything you’ve done since we left the Quiet Isle has been as knightly as it goes as far as I’m concerned,” she shrugs. “And the lady doesn’t seem to agree with you.”

 

He grunts something, and if Brienne didn’t know better, she’d say that maybe the unburned side of his face just flushed.

 

“Listen,” he says, “this is — I don’t even know why I’m fucking telling you this, but — I also won’t say it again.”

 

“All right.”

 

“You know what my brother did.”

 

“I do,” she nods. He did tell them after Sansa urged him to, when they were on their way to Winterfell.

 

“Well, the moment he got knighted, I decided the whole thing was a crock of shit. I mean, Rhaegar Targaryen knighted him. See why I had a problem with that notion. And why I never wanted anyone to do the same with me.”

 

“I can see that,” she says, unable to blame him.

 

“Well,” he shrugs. “Then I met your ass and only someone blind couldn’t see that you actually take it seriously, more than — than anyone I’ve known, honestly. When pretty boy you’re sleeping with —“

“We —“

 

“You do, please don’t try to argue that. Your tent was next to mine.”

 

Well, they haven’t hidden it well enough, Brienne figures, though she supposes everyone would know after… after what he did just after the battle five days ago. It had been a lot of wights. More than she had ever seen at once since the Long Night started, and she had taken down a good number, but still —

 

“Well, in between that, what your squire says about how you got your fucking face mauled to save a few girls no one would have given a fuck about and the way you actually managed to not fuck with your vows too much, I think he did fucking right to knight you because as it is it’s a dying breed and you might be the last of them.”

 

“That’s… I mean. Ser Jaime is one, too, you know.”

 

“Sure you’d point that out.” He laughs some, letting out a few breaths and wrapping himself in his cloak. “Yes, but he hasn’t given a fuck for years. You never stopped. And if everyone was like you I think I wouldn’t have minded accepting that title, so learn to take a fucking compliment and shut the fuck up.”

 

“… All right,” she smiles slightly, her shoulders relaxing. “Thank you. Ser.”

 

“Not one,” he counter-replies, and stares ahead, the conversation obviously finished.

 

Not yet, she thinks. She might talk to Jaime, after.

 

But now? She thinks she won’t mind doing her shift with him.

 

 

End.