An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“So many vows,” said Elder Brother sadly. “Could you not let Ser Jaime fulfill his own vow?”
“He will need to return to his… to his… king. His family. His duty.”
“He seems to be in no hurry to do so.”
“I don’t understand him.” She looked at her feet.
“But you love him.” She kept her head bent. “My lady, look at me.” She slowly, unwillingly, raised her gaze to his face. Elder Brother’s eyes were a warm brown. She could see tiny reflections of herself in them.
“I led him to his death!” she protested. “That is not love.”
“And yet he lives. Thanks to you being willing to die for him. That made him very angry. And why was he angry? And why is he still here? Could it be that he loves you?” He paused. “Even if he does not know it himself.”
He made it sound perfectly reasonable and logical when it was not. Why did he speak of love? Love was not her destiny.
