#kingslayer and the wench

[vitaminkenjoyer]

brienne and her names for jaime from asos to adwd

[thewench-and-thekingslayer]

The Wench & the Kingslayer recommends: Maxton Hall!

When lower-income student Ruby Bell (Harriet Herbig-Matten) discovers a secret about the uber-wealthy Lydia Beaufort (Sonja Weißer), she attracts the unwanted attention of Lydia’s twin, James Beaufort (Damian Hardung). What follows is a slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers romance that takes place in a heightened world of extreme privilege and family drama.

6 episode series on Amazon Prime

Trailer:

Know a book/series/movie/etc, that might interest Jaime and Brienne shippers? Send us a message and we'll post your recommendation! See our other recommendations here.

[doctorwhomybae]

George RR Martin and his obsession with the concept of characters names and titles, and the importance of calling people by their given name and how it affects their identity…I could write a whole essay

[dreamfaerye]

'Jaimes bisexual not as in attracted to multiple genders but attracted to knights who can dog walk him'

🎯🤣🤣🤣

Can I speak my truth. I don’t think Brienne is even a little gay. I think she’s a kinsey zero who false positives on everyone’s radar. I think if you dropped brienne into new age 2024 she would get treated as a lesbian in her day to day life but whenever a woman liked her she’d be like. Ummmmmmm I’m really sorry but I don’t. Feel like that. I think she’d give lesbianism the good old college try bc of the direness of her male love life and come down firmly on the side of not attracted to women. I think she is quintessential pnw woman who you think is a slam dunk homerun lesbian based on everything about her who drops the word husband on you. I think she gets clocked on sight and mentions a partner named Jaime which makes people go. Okay. Partner i know that game. Jamie easily the name of a lesbian. Easily. And then she drops the he pronouns and you go. Well. Could still be a weird lesbian. And then Jaime is a business major in a frat with generational wealth. And HE is the kinsey five in the relationship.

[almostaknight]

“Guards!” he heard the wench shout. “The Kingslayer!” Jaime, he thought, my name is Jaime.

“You are speaking of a highborn lady, ser. Call her by her name. Call her Brienne.”

[shripscapi]

“Guards!” he heard the wench shout. “The Kingslayer!”

Jaime, he thought, my name is Jaime.

[rohanneofcoldmoat]

I've always found it interesting that Brienne calls Jaime 'my lord' when she approaches him at Pennytree, which is something we've never seen her call him before. It especially sticks out considering the weight names carry in their story (You will call me Brienne, not wench / Jaime, he thought, my name is Jaime). Brienne, knowing that she's about to betray Jaime, can't bring herself to compound the betrayal with the intimacy of using his name, but she's well past calling him Kingslayer, so she settles on My Lord, which is formal and respectful yet impersonal, and perhaps allows her to keep some level of emotional distance from what she's doing.

[ilynpilled]

being denied for being a jb pegging truther when we have an actual dream sequence of them naked and jaime giving her a sword, an established phallic symbol in the text, with a passage that’s verbatim: “the steel links parted like silk. “a sword,” brienne begged, and there it was, scabbard, belt, and all. She buckled it around her thick waist.” and mind you we had jaime say shit like “it was the gods who neglected to give you a cock, not me.” and “give me the sword, kingslayer.” “oh, i will.” and “a big strong peasant wench to look at her, yet she speaks like a high-born and wears long sword and dagger. ah, but can she use them? jaime meant to find out, as soon as he rid himself of these fetters.” oh ye he’ll find out alright

[jaimexbrienne-fic-finder]

Wedding

May is Wedding month, so here are stories about weddings! Some are only about a wedding, some just have a bigger part about a wedding. There are lots more I can't remember right now, if I think of many more there will be a part 2!

Found Wanting by dreadwulf

Brienne is still convinced that the entire affair is a joke on her. Surely there is a real bride somewhere in the castle, who will be brought out once the crowd has had a good laugh at the cow in a satin gown. When she said as much to her intended, he said it was surely a joke on them both. Let them laugh, he said. What’s funnier is that Queen Daenerys made the match in the first place – she must have thought them intolerable to one another. The Beauty and the Kingslayer. Surely Brienne could see the humor in it?

Something Drastic by bearsofair

Brienne ducks out of a wedding reception early. Her "date" comes looking for her.

the battlefield between us (isn't here tonight) by robotsdance

“I missed you, ” Brienne says like she’s admitting something else, and Jaime wants to say it back to her in exactly the same way: loaded with all of the things they’re not saying. Let that truth settle between them, unsaid but at least somewhat spoken. That could be enough. To share that quiet understanding with Brienne, here, alone together in the middle of the woods, in the middle of a war, in which one of them will be on the losing side. That could be enough. I missed you too.

Brienne would understand.

What Jaime says instead is “Marry me.”

The Lion, the Wench, and the Wardrobe Trailer by GilShalos1

Jaime Lannister’s entire acting career has been built on playing reckless cads and heartless villains – ever since a scandalous death on his first film, Kingslayer, was quickly hushed up at his father’s behest. Nearly fifteen years later, acclaimed director Olenna Tyrell has announced her retirement: after one last film, Oathkeeper, inspired by the mythic story of the Long Night. She wants Jaime to do what he does so well, play into his on-screen persona and off-screen reputation, and be a villain for the ages in her final film. But to make sure his infamous ways don’t interfere with production, she requires his personal assistant to keep him on the straight, narrow and sober. Brienne Tarth, in her first job on a film set, finds herself tasked with keeping the impossible Jaime Lannister under control …

Something Blue by Aviss

Jaime Lannister was a wedding planner, though he sometimes missed his old job where he was actually allowed to kill people. Ten minutes with his latest clients and he was already convinced they should not get married. He wasn't a marriage counsellor though, he wasn't invested in this Hunt and Tarth wedding beyond the planning of the ceremony.

Never A Bride by CourtingDisaster

(Modern AU) Wedding bells are ringing in Westeros. After an unpleasant first meeting, Brienne and Jaime find themselves being thrown together over and over as their friends and family marry off. After all, as Tyrion likes to point out, there really aren't any other groomsmen tall enough to escort everyone's favorite bridesmaid...

Over the course of several weddings and receptions, Brienne and Jaime form a sort of truce, perhaps they even become friends. But Brienne isn't going to let the atmosphere of romance carry her away, no matter how handsome Jaime is...is she?

Vows by theworldunseen

Jaime Lannister profiles the most interesting and romantic weddings in the country for his super popular blog, The only problem? His own heart has been stomped on, and it might have ruined weddings for him forever. When he finds out about a woman who’s going to be in her twenty-seventh wedding party, he thinks writing about her might be his way back to loving weddings. But Brienne Tarth isn’t anything he ever expected.

What happens in Sunspear (doesn't) stay in Sunspear Series by Luthien

Brienne wakes up the morning after a night on the town in Vegas Sunspear, with unexpected company in her bed - and that's just the first surprising discovery she makes.

My Best Friend's Wedding by wildlingoftarth

A desperate Brienne hires a “professional party date” to accompany her to Renly’s wedding on Tarth. It’s just a weekend – what could go wrong?

so keep me close. by SeeThemFlying

Brienne pines for her husband, Jaime, who she is convinced is not madly in love with her.

[pandolfo-malatesta]

...“but on his way back to Riverrun he left his tail and went off with a woman.”

Once they’re spotted making for the camp calls ring out to herald their arrival.  “She’s back!  She’s brought him.”  There is no welcome in the calls, no comradely greeting; instead the words lift like snouts scenting blood.  “The lovers!” someone chortles, and he is upon a plodding horse again, pressed against her, can smell the ghost of his rotting hand.  “The Kingslayer and his whore!”  Upon hearing that she makes a choked noise.

He bristles, though not at the epithet so often flung against him.  Why would they call her, so obviously a chaste and honest maid, such a thing?—other than to mock her, to wound her, to humiliate her.  Her shoulders have crept high, her elbows drawn in; she is trying to make herself small enough to overlook.  His pulse quickens as he tries to make a fist of the hand he does not have.  Even if the golden hand cannot hold a sword, it can dispense retribution of its own.  Ronnet Connington has learned as much; if Jaime has the chance, these men will, too.

Anger at hearing her insulted because of him is expected.  Less so is the lightning bolt of desire, quick and pure and devastating, that the words send through him.  He shivers at it, even as shame fills him.

Wisdom would let the slander stand unanswered.  “My lady’s name is Brienne,” he warns, relieved that his voice is steady, if a bit loud in his own ears.  “And if ever I’d had her, I would remember it.”  He doesn’t need to glance over to know that her flush has deepened, darkened.

As they rein in their horses, men swarm them.  Rough hands drag them from their saddles; they jerk his arms back and wind a rope around his elbows, rip his sword belt free.  He notices that they leave Brienne’s hands loose.  Ice spikes through his veins as he realizes that they aren’t afraid of what she may do to them.  If they aren’t afraid of her, injured though she is, they can’t be afraid of him, and his bonds are meant to show him his place here.

His heart sinks as their captors herd them toward a hole in the rock.  They duck into a cavern, dotted here and there with fires that cast weird shadows onto the walls.  Men mill about the place, all of them with metal glinting somewhere about them: a long knife in a belt, an axe within arm’s reach.  Their attention is fixed on the new arrivals.  Whatever brought Brienne and him here, they have little hope of an easy exit from this place.

There is a gurgling, rattling noise, the like of which he’s never heard and that can only bode ill.  Then, as if translating that hideous rasp, a northern voice calls, “Get him on his knees!”

As they force him to the ground Brienne struggles against the hands restraining her, though without much conviction.  “I would see them first,” she demands, sounding not as firm as she would probably like.  He follows her gaze to see that she is addressing a ghoul in grey.  The figure is strangely familiar: something in its erect bearing, in the matted auburn hair.  

Yet more captives shuffle out—neither of them a highborn lady of three-and-ten; just a boy and a hedge knight, both of them bruised and unremarkable in every way, though the latter eyes him with unconcealed disgust and the former looks fit to cry at the sight of her—and Jaime reckons he knows why he’s here.  Even so, he huffs out a laugh.  She glances sharply at him.  “I’m only worth two lives to you?” he murmurs lightly.  “You wound me, wench.”

“Jaime,” she keens, just at the edge of his hearing, and his slight smile disappears.  He must spare her from this.

He surveys the motley assemblage, ending with the ghoul.  “Who commands this?” he asks in the voice of the lord commander.  “At whose order am I to die?”

The redheaded ghoul hacks and sputters and the northman says, “Your own hand signed your death warrant.”  Jaime raises an eyebrow—would raise his golden hand, no longer good for signing anything, if he could.  “You have broken faith with my lady.”

He shrugs.  “More fool her, to be surprised by it.”

Brienne tries to stride forward.  “Let him live, please, my lady.  We are sworn to find your daughter, and we will, together.”  He will remember the warble of her “please” for the rest of his life, be it five minutes longer or five decades.  To have such a one as Brienne of Tarth—protector of innocents, loyalty made flesh, the finest knight in Westeros but for the chance of her birth—plead for his life humbles him.

The northern youth shakes his head.  “Lady Stoneheart spared your life, and theirs.”  He gestures to the captives.  “The Kingslayer must die.  Keep your word and prove yourself true.”

Jaime nearly laughs at that, his eyes narrowing.  Brienne has proven herself true time and again, across miles and months, through blood shed and sheer stubbornness.  What she has never been is a skilled liar, so that something is amiss has been obvious from the moment she returned to him.  Her eyes have been turned from him, never meeting his gaze; her speech has been unusually shy.  He’d expected perhaps to have to fight for Sansa Stark, side by side with Brienne.  He’s known for ages that he might die with her, though not like this.  The men holding her let go, none too gently; one shoves a sword into her hands, and for a moment she looks down at it as if she’s never held a weapon before.  Then she pulls Oathkeeper from its scabbard and pivots to face him.

Jaime Lannister’s lot in life, it seems, is to kneel before one woman or another.  First Cersei, then Catelyn Stark, who has become an eldritch creature who wants him dead; and now it will end with him on his knees before Brienne, the Maid of Tarth.  For so long he’s thought that he would die in battle, on his feet or astride a horse with a sword in his hand; he finds he doesn’t mind being at Brienne’s feet.  He only hopes she won’t blame herself too much, afterward.

He looks up at her and smiles.  It’s not the expression he’d like to wear, an insouciant smirk in the face of the Stranger; it’s softer, fitting for the woman who has planed away his carefully constructed self-conceit.

“Go away inside,” she whispers; he isn’t sure if it’s to herself or him that she speaks.  He won’t do it, not this time, not in their last moments together.

He’s never been afraid of death, but with the hour at hand he finds himself reluctant.  “Brienne,” he says. The glistening of her eyes is more precious than any gemstone.  Would that he had knelt before her in peaceful times.  “I trust you.”  With his life, and now with his death.  It will be quick—she will make sure of it.  Her sword is sharp, her arm strong.  He, at least, will not suffer.

Though her expression does not lighten she straightens, drawing her shoulders back and her head high.  In her eyes he sees rekindled that defiant spark, and bites back a grin.  Her fingers tighten around Oathkeeper’s hilt.  “Jaime,” she says, “you—”

As if possessed, the hedge knight bursts from where he’s been standing and barrels toward the undead Catelyn Stark.  All eyes turn to him, including Brienne’s; surely Jaime isn’t the only one to see the northman pull his dagger and aim it at the knight’s gut.  The knight himself sees and dives forward, under the dagger and at the northman’s knees.  The two tumble down and Catelyn—Lady Stoneheart—stumbles back, hissing.  While Jaime considers staggering to his feet Brienne whirls away from him, crossing to where the two men grapple in the dirt and, in one stroke, separating Lady Stoneheart’s head from her body.

As the blow is struck all sound is sucked out of the cavern, and the fires extinguish.  With ears ringing and eyes wide, he wonders if he’s died, if someone has finished the job for Brienne.  Then, dead or alive, he hauls himself to his feet.

Across the cavern—or maybe nearer than he can tell—there is a faint glow, a pale wriggle of movement in the air.  With his luck it will be some creature that thrives in darkness come to feast on human flesh; or maybe it is merely madness taking hold, his mind so starved for light, even after just these few moments, that it has imagined itself a source.  The sweep of it to and fro through the black is entrancing; streams of light linger in the air, making it hard to discern the thing’s shape.  But now he can see that its light is blue, and that it seems to be searching for something.  Strange though it is, the light does not alarm him as it approaches—except when it now and then disappears.  Its blue is kindly, comforting, and he stands straight and still, ready to welcome it.

When the light reaches him it is enough to illuminate its immediate surroundings.  A band around his chest loosens with the darkness pushed back.  Now he can see that the glow comes from a sword, and can’t imagine why he didn’t recognize it earlier.  He’s been here before: in a dream with Brienne lighting his darkness.

A hand he knows extends toward him.  The fingers run from the crown of his head to the nape of his neck, then across his throat, pausing at his pulse point to feel the thrum of blood there.  Her hand splays against his chest, drags down toward his stomach; his breath catches at the warm press of it as she ensures that he is uninjured.  I am well, he wants to tell her, and wants to ask if she is, but doesn’t know if his voice will work or if the sorcery surrounding them will leave him mute.

And then she touches his face: the faintest brush of fingertips against his cheek.  For neither the first time nor the last Jaime is helpless before her, helpless without her.  He closes his eyes, none the blinder for it, until she takes her hand away.

Then she is cutting through his bonds, propping the half-dead hedge knight halfway onto Jaime’s shoulder, and leading them and the boy out of the cavern.  They emerge, squinting, into daylight.  In the light the sword is as ordinary as it’s ever been; in the light so is she.  He takes her hand in his, and takes up his place beside her.

[daenerysstormreborn]

Another thing I’m sure has been posted a million times, but it’s so lovely that I’m posting it again because I want it on my blog. Before this moment, Brienne is seldom referred to by her name in Jaime’s chapters. She is simply “the wench.”

Brienne caught him before he could fall. Her arm was all gooseflesh, clammy and chilled, but she was strong, and gentler than he would have thought. Gentler than Cersei, he thought as she helped him from the tub, his legs wobbly as a limp cock. “Guards!” he heard the wench shout. “The Kingslayer!”

Jaime, he thought, my name is Jaime.

—Jaime V, A Storm of Swords

After this, his chapters almost exclusively refer to her as Brienne. She’s still called “the wench” once and a while but I imagine it’ll eventually stop entirely. And then this:

“This is none of our concern,” Steelshanks warned Jaime. “Lord Bolton said the wench was theirs, to do with as they liked.”

“Her name’s Brienne.”

—Jaime VI, A Storm of Swords

A beautiful parallel and really solid character development

[inlovewithquotes]

"Jaime," Brienne whispered, so faintly he thought he was dreaming it. "Jaime, what are you doing?"

"Dying," he whispered back.

"No," she said, "no, you must live."

He wanted to laugh. "Stop telling me what do, wench. I'll die if it pleases me."

"Are you so craven?"

The word shocked him. He was Jaime Lannister, a knight of the Kingsguard, he was the Kingslayer. No man had ever called him craven. Other things they called him, yes; oathbreaker, liar, murderer. They said he was cruel, treacherous, reckless. But never craven. "What else can I do, but die?"

"Live," she said, "live, and fight, and take revenge."

-A Storm Of Swords

[agentrouka-blog]

I love the moment where Brienne tries to bury the hanged women of the inn. Her trying to give these poor women some dignity.

Oh yes.

What I really like is that she interrupts their journey, drags the skiff to shore, specifically to bury the dead, and she doesn't relent even when they are determined to be prostitutes. Previously, she was presented as, perhaps, naive in her chivalric ambitions, and certainly as deeply emotional in her desire to avenge Renly.

But this small scene really drives home that she is a woman of principle and integrity. A true knight. Where Cleos is an uncaring classist jerk (for all that he politely refers to Brienne by name), and where Jaime delights in seeing his cynicism affirmed, Brienne takes a stand for the value and dignity of ordinary people. She will do the same with Dick Crabb later, and most prominently with the orphans at the Crossroads Inn. The imagery of her confrontation with Lady Stoneheart with her noose is already contained within this moment. We see who she is, and who she chooses to be again and again and again.

And GRRM rewards her for it, too.

This delay is the reason they pass by the island with the conveniently loose giant boulders at the exact right time to pull off her rock avalanche trick.

They would have been past the island and helpless against the much faster river galley chasing them, if this noble impulse of Brienne's had not slowed them down. It is also probably what earns her Jaime's admiration enough to pull her back into the boat. It's brilliant.

“You’re a bloody stupid wench,” he told her. “We could have sailed on without you. I suppose you expect me to thank you?” “I want none of your thanks, Kingslayer. I swore an oath to bring you safe to King’s Landing.” “And you actually mean to keep it?” Jaime gave her his brightest smile. “Now there’s a wonder.”

A part of him is utterly delighted, even more delighted than when he was goading her over the Stark-side atrocities. He knows that she isn't merely capable and quick, he knows she means what she says in a way no one else does. It grabs him. This is where their relationship truly begins, knight to knight.

[jaimebrienneonline]

Fun with Fics

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll roughly to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

(I got this twice in my inbox, so here goes.)

1. The Wine Is Not Enough

Sam leaned forward and offered Dany some unsolicited wisdom, “Never, ever wear open-toed sandals in a Port-o-Walder.”

2. The Seduction

Jaime lunged forward and pressed his mouth to hers in a sloppy, wet kiss. He pulled back and began kicking off his shoes. "Fine. See. You've won. I yield. You can have your way with me."

3. Vows

He shifted on the bed to lean back against the pillows, angling himself to her. “I left you unprotected in the North. Did that Wildling try to steal you? Did you let him?” His eyes glittered with something she didn’t understand. “Is that why you’re trying to refuse me?”

“No one stole me. Why would anyone even try? I’m not a possession to be stolen,” she huffed.

4. Age Gap

“Seriously though, Tyrion, what’s the point in having a sexy young girlfriend if I can’t have her hold up restaurant menus to prove I can read them from a distance?”

5. The Right Time

He rose from his seat and turned around, facing the bear-like man. With a deliberate swipe of his stump, he knocked the unopened cup to the floor before leaning his perfect muscular backside against the edge of her desk. His voice was like shards of ice as he spoke to the investigator. “Brienne already has plans for lunch. With me.” He then stood straight and took a step closer to the other man. “She has plans today. Tomorrow. Every lunch. Every day. Every dinner, too.”

6. Life's Sweetest Reward

Brienne shoveled a bite of eggs in her mouth and swallowed before answering. “Shuffleboard tournament.” After watching the other couples at parasailing yesterday, she thought she and Jaime were probably the most athletic ‘couple’ on board. “If Jaime manages to get up in time, we’ll likely win.”

Howland drew back from her and his previous affable expression turned into something much harder. Jyana touched his hand, a look of alarm on her face.

“Jya and I have been on ninety-seven cruises. We compete in the shuffleboard tournament every single time.” He leaned in then, his voice dark and low, “And we always win.”

7. The Kingslayer's Speech

No matter how she argued that the first kiss had been an accident, (did you trip and fall into my lips, wench?), he had insisted that he was entitled to a kiss with every goodbye now. It was his due, he said. Just to shut him up, she’d smacked her lips against his and sent him on his way.

8. The Singular Discomfort of Jaime Lannister

He hadn’t thought it possible to be this hard and not explode. “Are you,” he paused, needing to catch his breath, “are you asking me to tell you about the hot, dirty things I want to do to you?”

9. Everyone Has a Price

Aunt Myranda (wife of Stafford, mother of Daven, Cerenna and Myrielle), passed around tequila shots while discussing the benefits of erectile dysfunction medication, but the drawbacks of four-hour erections.

10. Words in the Dark Night

“Or I could warm it on your teats, what little you have, wench. Or perhaps under the sweet curve of your ass.”

Sam watched as the Maid’s gloved hand gripped the hilt of Oathkeeper. He wondered if Ser Jaime planned to die tonight.

----

Okay..this was a lot of fun. Thank you. I haven't double checked all the links, but you can find all my fics by just clicking one and then my user name. I can't always connect writers to tumblrs, so I'm going with the first few I remember. @ddagent @writergirl2011 @seaspiritwrites @glamaphonic @isolacaramella @quizzicalquinnia @ladym-rules @wackygoofball @wildlingoftarth @bussdowntarthiana

[deadmegumi]

Brienne calling him kingslayer in shock as he jumps into the bear pit with her vs immediately after they're pulled out and he corrects steelshanks calling her wench with "her name is brienne" and then she calls him ser jaime. SER JAIME

[waitingforwinterwinds]

ASOS; Steel and Snow: 11 JAIME II (pages 146-160)

The BROad-trip continues as the team finds an inn along the river, where they pick up some local gossip and some horses to continue the journey overland.

-

"Did you kill them?" "Would i tell you if I did?" The man spat. "Likely it were wolves' work, or lions, what's the difference? The wife and i found them dead. The way we see it, this place is ours now."

And ain't that just a summary of it all: the smallfolk don't know or care who's responsible, all they know is someone in charge is killing them, and they're left to scrape up a life in the aftermath as best they can.

... omg, Brienne and Jaime getting the vibes, meanwhile Cleos is all 'la-lala-lala, what a lovely inn, time for a kip~"

idjit.

Cleos, you bring down the IQ of the entire party... he's going to get himself killed, isn't he? I can half imagine this as a tabletop, and the player just "it's what my character would do" attitude, while everyone else throws scrunched up note paper and "stop trying to get us killed in the first session!"

"He may have been lying about the river as well, to put us on these horses," the wench said, "but I could not take the risk. There will be soldiers at the ruby ford and the crossroads."

ruby = 🥛 I'm thirsty, so it counts.

Jaime! stahhhhp. Stop thinking mean things about Brienne!

"- Aerys had Ser Ilyn Payne's tongue torn out just for boasting that it was the hand who truly ruled the Seven Kingdoms. the captain of the Hand's guard, and yet father dared not try and stop it. -"

Ohhhhh, so that's what happened to his tongue and why.

"Tell me true, one kingslayer to another - did the Starks pay you to slit his throat, or was it Stannis? (...) Or perhaps your moon's blood was on you. Never give a wench a sword when she's bleeding."

*smacks Jaime with the steel chair* be thankful I'm not hitting you harder Mr. PMS jokes. And the only reason for that, by the way, is because I'm aware you're deflecting from your own trauma and guilt re: killing Aerys. You chose a shitty way to go about it though. Stop it.

I feel like I'm becoming more liberal with the application of chair as we go on. This series has changed me. (joking)

But when he closed his eyes, it was Aerys Targaryen he saw, pacing alone in his throne room, picking at his scabbed and bleeding hands. The fool was always cutting himself on the blades and barbs of the Iron Throne.

"Listen. Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the silly sword-chair, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony."

Yeah, and the silly sword-chair doesn't like you, Aerys!

I do like that the people who do get cut all seem to be the kind of folks who you'd think "oh of course they're unworthy, they are selfish and cruel" when you hear they get cut, and it perpetuates the idea that the Throne cuts the unworthy.

But also, the only real time we've seen that thought from someone on the Throne was from Ned, and he was well aware how dangerous the chair was.

... Jaime needs therapy for what happened during the rebellion, and probably before that as well.

They broke their fast on oatcakes , alt fish, and some blackberries that Ser Cleos had found, and were back in the saddle before the sun came up.

I don't know that I'd trust berries from Ser Cleos, he doesn't seem that bright. (I'm being mean, I'm aware.)

Luckily (fun fact incoming) there's a good chance the berries are fine.

Fun Fact:

While roughly 50% of red berries are poisonous, 90% of blue/black/purple skinned berries are edible.