Chapter Text
Chapter Two
Never Pick Up A Bundle Of Rags
Her feet hurt.
Pain pulled Brienne from her dazed wanderings. How far had she gone? It might have been blocks or miles. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to try and get her bearings. Searching for a street sign, she limped forward, not looking in the direction she was going.
The collision barely rocked Brienne back onto her heels, but the thin, elderly woman who had run into her was in danger of falling. Brienne reached out and grasped the old lady's arm with more strength than courtesy.
"Take your hands off me, you great hulking beast! How dare you! You men, you always … Gods be good, you're a woman."
"I'm terribly sorry, ma'am," Brienne let go of the woman's sleeve as soon as she was sure that the danger of a fall was over. Brienne tried to smile as she bent her knees to look directly into the older woman's face.
"And so you should be! An unnatural creature like you should take more care rather than less." Narrowed eyes measured Brienne from top to toes and her lips curled down in disgust. Then the old woman turned to throw a glance back in the direction she had come from.
"Do you need help, ma'am?" Brienne was raised to offer a hand to anyone, even as unpleasant a pinch-faced harpy as this woman seemed.
"No! Just get out of my way and let me pass."
And with that, the old lady slid her bony form between Brienne's bulk and the wall beside them and raced away.
You'd think I was going to chase her down the street or something.
Brienne scanned the surroundings just to be sure that no one was pursuing the old lady's rapidly moving form.
What was that?
On the doorstep of a building was a pile of rags. Brienne was quite sure that was where the old lady had come from. And the rags were … moving and about to fall right off the step.
Despite her aching feet, Brienne was over there in three long strides and caught whatever was in the bundle just as it began to fall.
It was surprisingly heavy. She juggled it for a second to get a secure grip, and that's when the cooing started.
What the …?
Brienne peeled back the blanket and was met with two big, blue eyes, chubby pink cheeks, and a perfect little rosebud of a mouth.
A baby? That old lady had dropped a baby on a doorstep and then hightailed it out of there.
Brienne looked around frantically. She caught sight of the small sign on the door.
Seven-Pointed Star Foundling Home.
Oh.
Brienne could hardly just plunk the baby back on the step and walk away. It might roll off again. Settling the child securely in one arm, Brienne raised her hand to knock on the door, but before she could, it opened, and Brienne was subjected to yet another disapproving once over.
"Well, I guess you best come in."
Brienne vigorously shook her head. "There's no need for that, Sister. Somebody just left this baby on your doorstep." Brienne tried to hand the child off, but the septa was not having it. "She was an older woman, so I don't think it is her baby. I can run in the direction she went to see if I can find her if you want me to."
Somehow, Brienne had moved from the front door and into the foundling home's foyer. Nuns really were able to hypnotize you when you weren't looking.
"The stories you girls tell, they get worse every day," the sister muttered. Then she turned and looked Brienne straight in the eye, almost as tall as Brienne herself. "You can tell Father all about it, Miss. Now come with me."
Brienne settled the baby more securely in her arms since no one was taking it from her and followed the septa into an office.
An austere-looking man was sitting behind a large desk. His black suit and white septon's collar were immaculate. He turned a cold eye on Brienne.
"What do we have here, Sister Unella?"
"She claims she found the baby on the doorstep, Father Sparrow."
"I don't claim anything," Brienne protested. "I was walking along, minding my own business, when an old lady barreled right into me. She was hurrying away from your door. Then, I saw that whatever she left was about to roll right off the step, so I went to catch it. And it turned out to be this baby." Brienne held up the baby as if that would prove she was telling the truth.
"And what were you doing on our street in the middle of the day, Miss …" the septon's voice trailed off suggestively.
"Tarth, Father. Brienne Tarth. I wasn't doing anything in particular. I was just wandering. I was let go from my job at Lannister's Department Store this morning, and I guess I was trying to figure out what I'm going to do next."
"And the baby's father? Is he out of work as well?"
"I don't know who the baby's father is," Brienne said and then stopped at the sneer she received from the nun. "I mean, how would I know anything about the father when I've never met him. This isn't my baby!"
"No better than you ought to be and a liar to boot," the nun's gaze would have frozen a White Walker.
"Now, Sister Unella, it's not for us to judge. The gods see all and measure each accordingly," the septon's words might have been pious, but his gaze was even colder than the nun's. "Tell me, Miss Tarth, if you still had your job at Lannister and Sons, would you still want to give up your child?"
"I'm telling you, Father. I swear on the Seven, and the Old Gods, and the Drowned God even, this is not my baby." Brienne thrust the child out and into the old man's arms.
"How can you deny it, my girl? This baby looks just like you."
Somehow Brienne had wandered into an asylum masquerading as a foundling home. The baby might have blue eyes and a few freckles, but that was where any resemblance ended. It was a beautiful child with golden curls and a tiny button nose —nothing like Brienne's mishmash of oversize features.
The baby began to wail. Little arms waved up and down in Brienne's direction.
"Look at this poor, little soul, Miss Tarth! How can you stand there and deny your own baby? This child belongs with its mother."
Brienne put her hands behind her back as the septon tried to force the baby back on her. "That baby does belong with its mother, and that mother is not me!" With that, Brienne muscled her way past the disapproving septa and fled from the house.
***
Faint queasiness still roiled in Jaime's stomach. It must be the hangover. It certainly wasn't firing Miss Tarth, not after her rude parting shot.
She slammed the door so hard the floor shook. Gods, she must be strong. I wonder if I could …
Shaking away that train of thought, Jaime returned his attention to the chaotic work schedule that Kevan had dumped on him before leaving early to begin enjoying the perks of being almost retired.
I'd give anything for a distraction, any distraction. Maybe I should have Pia call Cersei for me. She does this sort of thing at Castamere's. And she's always asking how we manage stuff at Lannister's.
Jaime's hand was reaching towards the intercom when it buzzed.
"Yes, Pia?" Jaime didn't care what Pia wanted if it meant he didn't have to try to apportion hours fairly after the holiday rush was over.
"Jaime, um, there's someone here to see you. About a problem with one of our employees, he says."
It was odd. Pia was usually so vibrant, but her tone was tentative. But no matter if it got him out of the drudge work, he was interested.
"Send him in, Pia." Jaime went to the door and was surprised to find … a septon? What could have happened to cause a septon to visit about one of the staff?
"Mr. Lannister? I'm Father Sparrow. Thank you for seeing me."
"Of course, Father, come in. I understand there is an issue with one of our staff?"
"To be truthful, it is one of your former staff, Mr. Lannister," the septon breezed past Jaime and made himself comfortable in one of the seats in front of Jaime's desk.
Do they teach them that at septon school? Always make it hard to get the bum's rush out of a room.
"I'm afraid there isn't much that Lannister's can do about our former staff, Father. If they are causing you some kind of trouble …"
"Not even if having been terminated has ruined a young woman's life, ser? Not even if it has caused her to make the most terrible choice that any woman can make?"
Jaime blinked once or twice at the septon's passion. Jaime would have bet cash money that this old stick didn't have a passionate bone in his body.
"If you could have seen Miss Tarth, Mr. Lannister, I'm sure your heart would have broken for her."
The big, judgmental blonde from this morning ran to a septon for aid? I'd have wagered she'd have torn the building off its foundation before asking for help.
"Has something happened to Miss Tarth, Father? She took her dismissal quite calmly."
Even the insult she sent his way was delivered with remarkable sang froid.
"She might have been in shock, Mr. Lannister. Only the most desperate of circumstances could have caused her to give up her baby."
"Baby? The giant … Miss Tarth has a baby?" Jaime's memory churned. There'd been nothing about children on her personnel forms.
"If you could have seen her, Mr. Lannister, standing in our foundling home and denying that her child belonged to her. It would have moved you to tears, ser, surely." The septon dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief.
"We are a poor order, Mr. Lannister, and with these troubled times, we have too many babies to care for already. Taking on another little child, when we know who the mother is, just isn't possible. I was hoping that, if you were aware of Miss Tarth's circumstances, you might see your way clear to giving her job back to her. For her child's sake."
"I … I don't… I'm just flabbergasted, Father. We at Lannister and Sons had no idea that Miss Tarth had a child and that her dismissal would lead to such terrible consequences. Of course, we'll take her back. Lannister and Sons doesn't abandon its own."
"The baby was well cared for, but the clothes, the blankets, were so worn, ser. Miss Tarth may need some assistance with providing for the little one. We have nothing to spare at the foundling home to give her. Our resources are stretched so thinly." The septon's eyes gleamed as he looked at Jaime.
"Of course. Lannister and Sons will provide Miss Tarth with everything she could want to look after her child. And for your assistance in righting this terrible wrong that we, no, I did to one of the Lannister's family, I would be happy to contribute a hundred…"
Staring directly into Jaime's eyes, the septon's chin rose just slightly.
"… five hundred dragons, and I'll send the foundling home a duplicate of every item we provide for Miss Tarth."
"How very generous of you, Mr. Lannister. I knew we could count on such a venerable company to open its heart to such a vulnerable young woman."
"Come with me, Father. You can oversee the selection of everything for Miss Tarth, and then my driver will take you to her home to give her baby back to her."