A Storm of Swords by George R. R. Martin

foundering amongst pools, eddies, and snags, and Jaime Lannister had decided that the gods were good. Ser Robin and his thrice-damned archers would have a long wet walk back to Riverrun, and he was rid of the big homely wench as well.
I could not have planned it better myself. Once I’m free of these irons
. . .
    Ser Cleos raised a shout. When Jaime looked up, Brienne was lumbering along the clifftop well ahead of them, having cut across a finger of land while they were following the bend in the river. She threw herself off the rock, and looked almost graceful as she folded into a dive. It would have been ungracious to hope that she would smash her head on a stone. Ser Cleos turned the skiff toward her. Thankfully, Jaime still had his oar.
One good swing when she comes paddling up and I’ll be free of her
.
    Instead he found himself stretching the oar out over the water. Brienne grabbed hold, and Jaime pulled her in. As he helped her into the skiff, water ran from her hair and dripped from her sodden clothing to pool on the deck.
She’s even uglier wet. Who would have thought it possible?
“You’re a bloody stupid wench,” he told her. “We could have sailed on without you. I suppose you expect me to thank you?”
    â€œI want none of your thanks, Kingslayer. I swore an oath to bring you safe to King’s Landing.”
    â€œAnd you actually mean to keep it?” Jaime gave her his brightest smile. “Now there’s a wonder.”

CATELYN
    S er Desmond Grell had served House Tully all his life. He had been a squire when Catelyn was born, a knight when she learned to walk and ride and swim, master-at-arms by the day that she was wed. He had seen Lord Hoster’s little Cat become a young woman, a great lord’s lady, mother to a king.
And now he has seen me become a traitor as well
.
    Her brother Edmure had named Ser Desmond castellan of Riverrun when he rode off to battle, so it fell to him to deal with her crime. To ease his discomfort he brought her father’s steward with him, dour Utherydes Wayn. The two men stood and looked at her; Ser Desmond stout, red-faced, embarrassed, Utherydes grave, gaunt, melancholy. Each waited for the other to speak.
They have given their lives to my father’s service, and I have repaid them with disgrace
, Catelyn thought wearily.
    â€œYour sons,” Ser Desmond said at last. “Maester Vyman told us. The poor lads. Terrible. Terrible. But . . .”
    â€œWe share your grief, my lady,” said Utherydes Wayn. “All Riverrun mourns with you, but . . .”
    â€œThe news must have driven you mad,” Ser Desmond broke in, “a madness of grief, a
mother’s
madness, men will understand. You did not know . . .”
    â€œI did,” Catelyn said firmly. “I understood what I was doing and knew it was treasonous. If you fail to punish me, men will believe that we connived together to free Jaime Lannister. It was mine own act and mine alone, and I alone must answer for it. Put me in the Kingslayer’s empty irons, and I will wear them proudly, if that is how it must be.”
    â€œFetters?” The very word seemed to shock poor Ser Desmond. “For the king’s mother, my lord’s own daughter? Impossible.”
    â€œMayhaps,” said the steward Utherydes Wayn, “my lady would consent to be confined to her chambers until Ser Edmure returns. A time alone, to pray for her murdered sons?”
    â€œConfined, aye,” Ser Desmond said. “Confined to a tower cell, that would serve.”
    â€œIf I am to be confined, let it be in my father’s chambers, so I might comfort him in his last days.”
    Ser Desmond considered a moment. “Very well. You shall lack no comfort nor courtesy, but freedom of the castle is denied you. Visit the sept as you need, but elsewise remain in Lord Hoster’s chambers until Lord Edmure returns.”
    â€œAs you wish.” Her brother was