And now he’s just… how the fuck is he even supposed to talk to Tyrion in his life without blurting hey, you know what, I’ve just discussed a few things with my therapist and guess what, I let her ruin your life, too, and I didn’t understand how much, and I didn’t even hear you out when you tried to tell me and you had half my fucking years, will you ever forgive me for that? He has no fucking clue. He has no bloody fucking clue, and fine, that is why he’s pretty much unable to think of anything else, but it still doesn’t mean he had any right to be a fucking arse to others.

“Very well. I’m going to tell you straight up — when you told me you hadn’t remembered that episode at all, it was a red flag. Given everything else you’ve said up to this point and how you reacted to recalling it and what you’ve said about your general coping mechanisms —” “Coping mechanisms?” “You might not know it was that, but you’ve used a lot of them. And this is where I tell you that repression or suppression of traumatic memories is very common, when discussing child abuse victims. Especially male ones.” He doesn’t know why his first instinct is denying it. It’s fucking ridiculous. He went to a guy who’s a fucking authority on the subject because deep down he knew that could be the issue, if he even thinks about that one memory he wants to throw up, since he remembered that he hasn’t been able to walk near dogs without wanting to jump on the other side of the road, it’s been two months and he’s gained a new awareness of how unhealthy his entire life was until he broke it off with her — And still, his first instinct is telling him, it can’t be?

in which Jaime has A Very Sound Plan when it comes to his family's objections to his marriage with Brienne.

“I slept fine enough,” Jaime grins back. “And I’m sure your daughter won’t have my head for anything that’s happened in the last moon.” “That she won’t,” her father agrees. “And please, the last thing I dared hope for her was that she’d marry someone who would just care for having heirs and not even knowing them. All things considered, I think any woman in the realm would kill to have you for a husband.” “Just everyone’s luck that she waited long enough to run into me, right?” Or: in which Brienne is off being a knight in shining armor and Jaime is in no way shape or form stopping her from doing it.

MSNBC Breaking News: Heir to Stark Fortune Snubs Merger with Billionaire Walder Frey; Frey Retaliates with Vicious Attack on Twitter.

“You held your vow to my girls,” she croaks, and now she’s… half-smiling? Gods, what? “You did your best. I am thankful for it. I want to repay you as a last gift for your service.” Brienne nods, barely. “My lady…?” She’s aware she hasn’t said anything other than that until now, but what should she be doing? “You must choose. You want him, for what he’s worth, or his head?” Wait. Gods, is she telling Brienne that she’s willing to kill him for her or to just leave him to her if she wants him back?

There were a lot of wedding gifts, oddly enough, although they weren't all meant in exactly the same spirit.

“Brienne of Tarth, yes. I always was better at swordfighting than at about anything else, and — we could say every time he tried to marry me to someone, it went sour.” Her eyes cloud for a second, then she shakes her head. “Then it happened that before he died, Asha Greyjoy showed up at our island for a diplomatic visit.” “I imagine my lady found her an inspiration?” Jaime says, starting to guess where this is going. “Maybe I did. And don’t call me like that. Everyone here likes to, but I’m no lady and I never was. Anyway, she… gave me a new perspective. When the King saw fit to inform me I should come to court so they could find me a marriage, I thought I’d ignore his missive.” “And become a pirate?” “Tarth is in an excellent position for raids,” she says, “and I don’t attack anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“Which brought me to the conclusion that if I am to be all tied up in your quarters for the entire night at least, then you must have decided your prize would not be the loot.” Then he winks again and oh. Oh. Brienne is about to shut him up and say that she would fucking never — she knows she’s ugly and she’s known that throughout her entire life, in between Sister Roelle and every single man she’s met since the age of six. She felt sick when those assholes in Nassau bet on whoever would manage to fuck her when she was putting together a crew and only had a ship and her father’s money to her name, and she would never take for a prize like that someone who’d have no choice about it. She’s about to tell him that if he thinks she’d stoop that low to have someone warm her bed he’s wrong and she’d rather have no one at all instead, but she’s not fast enough, because he goes on, and — “To which I say, go ahead and take it.”

Two days after they received word of a Frey girl joining Robb Stark at Moat Cailin and riding off north with him, a ship from the Stormlands arrived, and Tyrion went down personally to meet it. Or rather, to meet the man coming off of it: one Selwyn of Tarth.