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The morning had dawned remarkably cold and dreary, as was now the norm for the North, and yet the bitter freezing temperatures did not deter Brienne of Tarth and her assigned men from proceeding diligently with their tasks for the day. With the battle against the Army of the Dead fast approaching, it was vital they finish their preparations and laid the necessary traps and defences in time for when the dreaded storm would arrive.

It had been a strange week. The dramatic and exciting arrival of Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen, whom Jon had – rather unwisely, in Lady Sansa's mind – pledged his fealty to, had led to some brewing tensions amongst the Stark family members. As touched as she was to see the children she had sworn to protect reunited with each other after such a long and traumatic time apart, Brienne was concerned that they would begin fighting amongst themselves, when they had a much more pressing war to focus on. Sansa and Arya, in particular, had not made any efforts to welcome Queen Daenerys warmly into their family home; it left Brienne uneasy as to how the Mother of Dragons would decide to deal with this conflict.

Brienne had no idea that she would soon have someone else to worry about. Until today, that was.

She was walking along the battlements of the castle, carrying a recently-forged array of Dragonglass weapons, when she heard the urgent whispers beginning to carry across the courtyard down below. Frowning, Brienne peered over the balustrade to see what was going on. Amongst the many soldiers preparing for battle and the smallfolk piling into the large castles' grounds, either to shelter or to help fight, a small crowd was beginning to form in the centre of the yard.

Brienne's heart began to race as the voices below increased in volume with both excitement and repulsion.

'Is that the Kingslayer?'

'No, he doesn't look anything like him-'

'No, it is! Look!'

'But his hair's so much darker-'

'Why is he here?'

'The Kingslayer-!'

The weapons fell from Brienne's arms and landed on the floor with an almighty clatter as she tried to see through the crowd, frantically wanting to locate the mysterious figure who the crowd was beginning to surround…desperate to identify that this new arrival was indeed him.

Although she hadn't voiced this aloud, Brienne had begrudgingly agreed with Lady Sansa's cynical assessment from a few days previously that Queen Cersei had not meant it when she'd said she would send her armies north to help in the fight against the White Walkers. Brienne had only seen Cersei briefly during that tense meeting at the Dragonpit last month, but she had clearly been unhinged in some way. No matter what promises she may have made when they had all parted ways that day, it had been evident to Brienne that Cersei's loyalties were to her power-mad ambitions and the Iron Throne, rather than the Army of the Dead.

So what could Jaime Lannister possibly be doing here?

'It can't be…' Brienne murmured to herself, frowning in disbelief.

'Milady!'

Brienne shook her head rapidly as she turned to find Podrick, her trusted squire and most loyal companion, rushing up to her across the battlements, his eyes wide and alert.

'What is it, Pod?' she asked.

'It's the Kingsl- sorry, Ser Jaime Lannister, milady,' Pod corrected himself hastily; he knew how much Brienne hated people using that nickname. 'He's here!'

Brienne's mouth had fallen open; she was stunned. 'But why…I didn't actually believe the Queen would send her men-'

'She didn't, there isn't an army,' Pod replied breathlessly. 'It's just him!'

But Brienne remained sceptical. 'Are you sure it's Ser Jaime?'

Pod smiled and tilted his head at her. She wasn't fooling him in the slightest; he knew she was trying not to get her hopes up. He knew just how much Ser Jaime meant to her.

'Why don't you see for yourself?' he suggested, indicating the courtyard below, where the excitable, gossiping crowd was only getting bigger.

In spite of herself, a flicker of a half-smile crossed momentarily on Brienne's face as she hurried past Pod to find the nearest set of steps that would take her back down to the lower levels. It was times like these where Brienne found herself grateful for being so tall and having such a commanding presence; she could make her way through the crowds easily. The murmurs about the notorious Kingslayer kept growing louder and more resentful as she pushed her way through.

She heard him before she saw him.

'Is Lady Brienne here? Brienne of Tarth? I need to speak to her-'

An inaudible gasp escaping her, Brienne turned and her eyes fell at last on the man everyone in the trepidatious crowd was so intrigued to get a glimpse of.

He didn't look as well-groomed as he had when she had last encountered him; he had longer hair – it even almost fell over his eyes – and a short unkempt beard, but it was definitely him. Stood innocently beside a horse and dressed in drab, dark clothing, Jaime Lannister had wrapped himself up in merely a long, thin cloak; clearly, he had not been well-prepared for just how cold it would be up here. It had been years since he had been to the North, and so much seemed to have changed. Winter was definitely here. He seemed to be looking around for someone, although he kept glancing back fervently to Bran Stark, who was sat watching him on his chair from across the courtyard with a blank expression. There was a haunting look on Jamie's face, filled with shame and regret. Brienne's heart sank; she knew that look. She had seen it many times on her travels with him.

Looking distinctly uncomfortable at the large amount of people slowly beginning to recognise him, Jaime smoothed down his cloak and, giving up on trying to get any answers out of the unwelcoming crowd converging on him, moved to try and manoeuvre a path through the smallfolk so that he could enter the castle. But then he halted as he saw the tuft of light scruffy blonde hair in his peripheral vision, and he found his feet taking him instantly in that direction.

He had been worryingly pale before at the sight of Bran watched him eerily from the side of the courtyard, but the moment Jaime clapped eyes on Brienne of Tarth, his face flooded with warmth and relief. He had been looking for her familiar tall figure the moment he had disembarked from his horse and pulled back his hood upon his arrival here at the castle grounds. Now there she stood, the armour and sword he had bestowed her gleaming proudly, her face not wearing her usual solemn expression, but instead filled with tenderness and surprise as she gazed in confusion at him.

'Jaime,' Brienne breathed, too quietly for him to hear her.

He was here, really actually here, stood before her in Winterfell. He had come all this way. And if Jaime had had any doubts about his decision to travel far and wide by himself to the miserable North where everyone despised him, he certainly had none now. Brienne was here, after all. If Brienne was here, then it had to be right.

If Brienne was here, then this was where he was meant to be.

* * *

Jaime hadn't always been sure what he was going to do. Indeed, it had taken Brienne's presence and a few strong words from her to make him see what really mattered in this life and these endless bloodthirsty wars.

Several weeks earlier, when Jaime had passed on Tyrion's suggested proposal for an armistice, he had never once believed that Cersei would accept it. So it came as a huge surprise to him when a parley was arranged at the Dragonpit to discuss the future of the Seven Kingdoms in regards to a certain Night King threatening worldwide death and destruction. On the day itself, Jaime averted his eyes at the sight of Jon Snow's group waiting under a canopy as he followed Cersei into the Dragonpit. He didn't want to see their faces. He was both afraid and ashamed of what his sister and Queen would undoubtedly do and say during this unlikely gathering. Eventually, he was forced to look up. They approached the raised platform in the centre of the pit, and after a quick scan of everyone assembled, his eyes fell on the tall, blonde woman on the far right. Jaime's lips parted and he almost came to a halt.

She wore an impressive fur coat, similar to Jon Snow's, over the steel-blue armour Jaime had given her; she had truly embraced Northern life, it seemed. Her hair was still short, although some of the curls at the back had grown slightly. Other than that, she looked exactly the same. His Brienne. Jaime swallowed slightly as he resumed walking at his normal pace; he hadn't known who to expect would be there at the summit, but he certainly hadn't been expecting Brienne. He supposed she was there as Lady Sansa's representative. It was a wise move, at least for the safety of Lady Sansa, but it caught him off guard greatly. He felt shaken just at the sight of her, at the reminder she posed of all the good deeds he had done in the not-so-distant past that Cersei would have absolutely despised him for.

Brienne, on the other hand, had been expecting Jaime to be at the meeting – indeed, she had been counting on it; in her mind, his presence here more or less guaranteed that she would not be treated dishonourably – and yet it still shook her deeply to see him in person. She glanced uneasily at him as he walked past her and threw her a questioning look that she could not quite place; was it irritation? Concern? Repulsion, even? Whatever it was, he certainly didn't seem in any way happy to see her. He swept past her without a word, looking weary and strained and yet also heavenly in his glorious armour, and despite his unwelcoming expression, Brienne couldn't help her rapid heartrate or the way her eyes blinked rapidly at their close proximity as he passed. She frowned slightly, flustered, as she watched him stride over to his allocated seat at the Queen's side, perturbed by the nervous flutters in her stomach and his unusually cold attitude towards her.

Brienne hadn't foreseen just how much of an affect his presence would have on her today. She had missed him, she realised, but she couldn't let it show. She never could. Suddenly overcome with longing and heartache, she remembered the last time she had seen him at Riverrun. There wasn't a day that went by when she didn't think of their encounter there, though it had been some time ago now. She wondered if he ever thought of it as well. The things he had said, the way they had looked each other, everything unspoken that had passed between them in a gaze so intense it still knocked her breathless just to think of it. Brienne had often wondered if she would ever see him again after that day, or whether their silent wave of farewell from afar would be the last image of Jaime Lannister that would be forever imprinted in her mind. Looking at him awkwardly now and taking in his expression of disdain, she almost wished it was.

Everyone assembled sat down to await Daenerys Targaryen's arrival, and while the majority watched uneasily as the Clegane brothers met in the centre of the platform for a tense discussion, Jaime instead flashed Brienne a sideways glance. His hand twitched agitatedly as he watched her sat there, so calm and collected and unwavering, so determinedly trying to avoid his gaze, so unaware of the danger she could be in. He was inexplicably angry with her, though he knew he had no reason to be. He was overwhelmingly glad to see her alive and well, of course he was – after all, she meant a great deal to him, and after their emotional parting of the ways back at Riverrun, he had doubted that their paths would ever cross again. But, if she hadn't been assembled here, Jaime would have been able to simply concentrate on Cersei and try to mediate matters about to be discussed, but now he knew he would instead spend the entire gathering afraid for Brienne.

'What the hell are you doing here?' he wanted to scream at her. 'Get out, run now while you still can.'

He had hoped to never see Brienne step foot in King's Landing again. He had sent her away all those years ago for her safety, and now she was here in the lion's den. He couldn't stop thinking about Cersei's cruel, threatening words whenever she'd found Brienne in Jaime's company during their brief time spent together in the Red Keep. It made him nervous now, although he was reassured that Cersei at least had more pressing concerns to focus on. He hoped that Brienne would keep her head down and not say or do anything to provoke his sister to further anger; her presence here alone no doubt infuriated Cersei enough. He also dearly hoped that Cersei wouldn't notice the Valyrian steel sword tucked neatly away underneath Brienne's fur cloak. Not that Cersei would be able to tell – or so he hoped, anyway. If she did, then Brienne would most likely never be able to leave this city again.

While Cersei spat snide remarks about Daenerys Targaryen's lateness to Tyrion, Brienne's eyes met Jaime's again. She saw now with clarity the expression in his gaze: it was fear. Her eyes widened slightly as she understood what he was trying to tell her without words, and she glanced nervously over at Cersei sat beside him. Brienne very rarely felt intimidated by another woman's presence; in fact, she had never even experienced such a feeling before. But sitting so close to the Queen made her feel sick to the very pit of her stomach. Cersei looked so impressive, so majestic in her regal black dress robes and crown. Despite the cruel expression she wore, her face was still so beautiful. How could Brienne ever compare to that? She hadn't fully comprehended this fact until today, but being forced to be in the company of Jaime and Cersei together as a united front was Brienne's idea of abject hell.

Daunted by the look of sheer hatred on Cersei's face as she fixed her glare upon her, Brienne's gaze slid once more over to Jaime. The way the two of them kept surreptitiously throwing glances at the other and then quickly avoiding each other's eye contact made both of them feel guilty, as if they were harbouring a secret love affair. Unfortunately, these looks did not go unnoticed by Cersei.

She inclined her head pointedly towards her brother, whose heart skipped a beat in terror as he realised that Cersei had caught him staring at another woman. And not just any other woman; Cersei had made no secret of the fact that she despised Brienne, even though their paths had barely crossed while Brienne had been in attendance at court. With a startled flicker of his eyebrow, Jaime hastily turned back to face Cersei, and just as quickly looked away from her terrifying expression, desperate for the silence amongst the assembled group to be broken. Brienne looked down, flustered and deeply troubled by the look that had just been exchanged between the three of them. It really was her worst nightmare come to life.

Cersei's eyebrows were practically halfway up her forehead as she watched Jaime carefully, her lips pursed, her jaw set. He was good at acting innocent and feigning complete ignorance to her suspicions, but he didn't fool her. The fact that he had been distracted by Lady Brienne alone was enough. And he knew there would be hell to pay for that later.

Jaime had never been more thankful for the subsequent roar of the dragon overhead that forced Cersei's attention momentarily away from the innocent woman sat merely metres from them. Daenerys Targaryen's perfectly timed arrival was as dramatic and terrifying as she had no doubt intended; Jaime was stunned as he watched her step down from the imposing beast, images of his soldiers burning alive racing through his mind as he recalled the last time he had seen the dragon. It would take a lot of beating, that alone was certain. The war for Westeros may have come to a stalemate for now, but whatever would transpire next, Cersei was losing. Jaime knew it, Tyrion knew it, Daenerys certainly knew it. Everyone knew it, aside from Cersei herself. All the enemy could do was somehow try to convince Cersei to join them in the war against the Night King and the White Walkers.

When Jon Snow and the Hound demonstrated the threat of the Army of the Dead by releasing one of its soldiers into the midst of the Dragonpit, Jaime leapt to his feet in terror. Horrified by the sight of the rotting corpse writhing about on the ground, he couldn't help automatically stealing a glance at Brienne. She looked ready to rise from her chair and approach the creature with her sword, but Jaime shook his head at her with a firm look in his eyes, and she resisted. Luckily, Jon Snow destroyed the White Walker soldier with a Dragonglass weapon he had brought with him, and it was only then when Cersei reluctantly accepted this as proof that the Army of the Dead was indeed real.

For one blissful moment, Jaime was hopeful that Cersei was finally making a wise decision when she agreed to help in this fight against the dead…until she requested fealty from Jon Snow. Jaime could already tell from the occasional glances exchanged between Jon and Daenerys that that was never going to happen, and so it came as no surprise to him when Jon stupidly declared his pledge to the Mother of Dragons. Cersei, on the other hand, seemed rather taken aback by this rejection. She was not used to being said no to.

'Then there is nothing left to discuss,' Cersei spat furiously, rising from her seat. 'The dead will come north first. Enjoy dealing with them. We will deal with whatever is left of you.'

Jaime stared at the ground as Cersei stormed past him to leave the raised platform, seeing nothing as he tried to breathe normally and not lose his temper. He couldn't believe she had retracted her support. He couldn't believe she was turning her back on the living people. It took him a few moments to remember that he was supposed to follow his Queen. Terribly ashamed and unable to bear meeting everyone's pleading, hopeless gazes, he turned heavily to leave.

'Ser Jaime.'

With a jolt in his stomach, Jaime realised that Brienne was following him from the platform. Apparently she was not afraid of what Cersei would think. Not as afraid as she should be. He gave her the cold shoulder as he walked on.

'It's been good to see you,' he said bluntly, refusing to make eye contact; he didn't want to see the disappointment in her eyes that would only challenge him more to realise how much of an idiot he was being. 'I imagine the next time will be across a battlefield.'

The mere thought of fighting against her left him distraught. But there was no denying it anymore – they were on opposite sides. Cersei had made that perfectly clear. She was prioritising the war between the living rather than the war against the dead, and he had to obey her wishes. He had to stay by her side. Nothing could change that.

'We both saw what just happened. We both saw that…thing,' Brienne said sharply, striding after him down the steps, trying not to get too frustrated with this foolish man.

'Yes, and I'm not looking forward to seeing more of them,' Jaime said heavily, still keeping his head bent low in shame as they walked on. 'But I'm loyal to the Queen, and you're loyal to Sansa and her dolt brother-'

At this, Brienne grabbed his arm roughly and forced him to turn around. 'Oh, fuck loyalty!' she snapped angrily.

Jaime halted in his tracks and stared up at her in shock. He knew that loyalty was a quality Brienne valued above almost all others. Not only that, she had also broken basic protocol by initiating physical contact with him, not to mention breaking a certain boundary in their unlikely friendship. But she didn't seem to care who was there or who saw. All she cared about was trying to get him to come to his senses. Close to, she could see just how tired and tense he looked. There were even more faint lines on his face and a few flecks of grey in his short, tidy hair. He had been reduced to merely a shadow, an obedient servant doing his sister's bidding and fighting her battles no matter what, and it was beginning to show.

'Fuck loyalty?' Jaime repeated with a frown, dumbfounded.

Who are you and what have you done to Brienne of Tarth?

Brienne scowled at him exasperatedly. 'This goes beyond houses and honour and oaths. Talk to the Queen,' she said urgently.

Shaken by her words, Jaime turned helplessly behind him. Cersei was stood waiting, and she was glaring at them both. He swallowed; despite his irritable mood, he yearned to hear more of what Brienne had to say – after all, her wisdom and advice was more valuable to him than anyone else's, and he desperately needed a solution to help his ruthless sister come around – but the look on Cersei's face deeply unnerved him. He watched as his sister threw him a look of disgust before turning and walking away.

In turmoil, Jaime turned back to Brienne, his eyes wide with fear, knowing that he needed to stop her from following him for her own safety. 'And tell her what?' he said roughly, his tone both angry and hopeless, and with a frown he turned his back on her and hurried away after his Queen.

Brienne watched him go, astonished and deeply hurt by his abrupt departure. Her expression was pitifully sad as she watched them leave the Dragonpit, and she was struck by how betrayed she felt. Jaime had been so tender and warm to her the last time they had seen each other. He hadn't acted that coldly towards her since the days before he had lost his hand, so long ago now. So much had changed between them then; they had formed a connection that she'd thought would never break.

If she hadn't been so preoccupied trying to make Jaime see reason, perhaps she would have noticed Cersei in the corner watching them speak with a murderous glint in her eyes…and perhaps then she would have realised that Jaime had only been trying to protect Brienne by cutting their conversation short. That was all he ever wanted to do. Protect her.

Jaime was surprised that Brienne had accosted him like that, but also grateful. It had knocked some sense into him. She was right; they needed to put aside their petty differences. They needed to join together to defeat the White Walkers. And so it was with bracing dread that Jaime approached the Tower of the Hand inside the Red Keep where Cersei now resided with her trusting glass of wine. He knew he had to try, for Brienne's sake and for the sake of every living person in Westeros, even though he also knew it would do no good to say what he thought. Cersei would not listen to him. Nevertheless, try he must.

'Cersei,' Jaime began in a low, wavering voice as he entered the room. 'You know we can't abandon them like that. That dead man we saw out there was just one soldier, out of hundreds of thousands. Next to them, Daenerys Targaryen is nothing. Even she wants to call a truce, because this is more important, the living are more important-'

But Cersei cut over him coldly. 'Have you lost your mind? Curious how you're suddenly happy to side with the dragon bitch and the stupid bastard who just wants to fuck her. What did that Tarth creature say to you just then?' she asked curiously, and she gave a dry humourless laugh as Jaime's expression froze, his eyes bulging slightly. 'You should never have let her speak to you – you were willingly fraternizing with the enemy.'

Jaime shook his head at her exasperatedly. 'I will talk to whomever I please, and Brienne is not our enemy, the dead is the enemy!' he urged.

'Oh, it's just 'Brienne' now, is it? No 'Lady',' Cersei said amusedly, and she scoffed smugly as she took a large sip of wine. 'How apposite.'

Jaime groaned in frustration. 'Get some fucking perspective! This is a war against an army of dead men, and you're concerning yourself with some woman, it's completely irrelevant to what's at stake here-'

'But she's not just 'some woman' to you, is she?' Cersei demanded sharply, and she raised her eyebrows at him, satisfied by the way he flinched in terror. 'What, you think I didn't see that look between the pair of you in the pit?'

'There was no look.'

She tilted her head at him. 'Do you take me for an idiot?'

It took everything Jaime had in him not to smile slightly, in spite of the situation. He remembered Brienne speaking those very words to him once, on the day they first met properly when Lady Catelyn had released him into Brienne's charge, so many years ago now. He had been deliberately trying to make Brienne lose her temper, just for the fun of it. Sometimes he missed those simpler days, where it was just him and Brienne, a mere captor and hostage, wandering aimlessly through the woods while snapping insults at each other. They had at least been very entertaining.

'You've seen her again since you released her into the wild after Joffrey's death, that alone is obvious. So do tell. What's been going on between you and that great ugly cow?' Cersei asked, feigning enthusiasm, and Jaime's nostrils flared furiously.

'Don't speak about her that way,' he said, his voice low and angry.

Cersei's smile faded; she didn't seem amused anymore. 'Oh. My apologies. I seem to have touched a nerve.'

'She saved my life, if you recall. She brought me back to you!' Jaime pointed out impatiently.

'Did she, though? Or did she bring back an imposter in Jaime Lannister's body?' Cersei said resentfully, and Jaime stared at her, perplexed. 'You've never been the same since you came back. Oh, I know it's been years and you've tried, yes you've certainly tried, but my Jaime, the real Jaime, would never even think about working alongside Starks and Targaryens!'

'Cersei, you need to get over your pride and you have to listen to reason!' Jaime said, almost pleadingly. 'If you want to stay alive, we need to join forces with them whether we like it or not-'

'No, you have to learn your place!' Cersei interrupted commandingly, leaping from her seat.

'Please, Cersei. Just go back out there and talk with them again. Give them another chance,' he said desperately. 'Or let me speak on your behalf-'

But Cersei sneered at him. 'You will not go anywhere near that pitiful excuse for a woman.'

Jaime rolled his eyes and stepped back from her in disbelief; this was getting ridiculous. 'You're forbidding me to talk to Lady Brienne now, is that it?' he said sceptically, outraged. 'She's my ally, she's my friend-'

'A friend?!' Cersei said incredulously. 'We don't have friends, we're Lannisters! It's time you started bloody acting like one!'

'Fine, then let me talk to any of the others-!'

'You are not in charge here!' Cersei shouted.

'I am your brother and the father of your child!' Jaime yelled, livid. 'Forgive me for wanting to do what I can to ensure our family's survival but-'

'Enough,' Cersei cut over him, her voice quieter than his but somehow firmer, and silence fell as she turned her back to him. 'I won't listen to this anymore. Get out.'

'What?'

'I want to be alone,' Cersei said firmly. 'Please get out.'

Jaime stared at her incredulously, but knew there was no point in saying anything else. It was like talking to a brick wall. Grinding his knuckle, Jaime turned with a heavy sigh and made his way towards the door, his armour clunking slightly as he went.

'And Jaime.'

Jaime closed his eyes before halting and turning back to face her. She still had his back to him.

'Stay away from Brienne of Tarth.'

Her voice was quiet, eerily quiet, when she spoke the words, but the threat was there, clear as day. It shook Jaime to his very core. This was beyond jealousy, he realised; Jaime had never known Cersei to be so enraged like this before over any woman, not ever. He tried to control his expression as Cersei slowly turned around to face him.

'I see the way you change when you're around her, even for just a second,' Cersei murmured, her tone and expression nothing but contempt. 'And it's not a good change.'

There was a pause.

Jaime took a step forward, glaring at her. 'Isn't it?' he challenged, his voice loud and angry.

Casting her a filthy look, he then turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

When Tyrion somehow miraculously managed to change Cersei's mind later, Jaime followed his siblings and the entourage of guards back to the Dragonpit in something of a trance. He was shocked and confused by Cersei's sudden unexplainable change of heart, but mostly pleased that he could go back to face Brienne and not let her down. For the first time in his life, he almost felt proud to be a Lannister. His house was pledging to ride North. They were going to fight together with everyone else against the dead, united as allies. He and Brienne would be on the same side. Perhaps, if all went well, this could even be the start of a new beginning for the people of Westeros. The thought struck him with a glimmer of hope.

Once they had regrouped with the others on the raised platform in the centre of the Dragonpit, Jaime looked hesitantly over in Brienne's direction in an attempt to reassure her that all was not lost, that everything was going to be all right after all, but she did not look at him; she was too preoccupied watching his sister warily as Cersei came to a halt and began to address them all, her head held high.

'My armies will not stand down. I will not pull them back to the capital. I will march them north to fight alongside you in the Great War,' Cersei said, her voice ringing out proudly to the pleasantly stunned group hanging onto every word. 'The darkness is coming for us all. We'll face it together. And when the Great War is over, perhaps you'll remember I chose to help…with no promises or assurances from any of you. I expect not.'

She spat the words, but Jaime didn't care enough to be embarrassed by her attitude; Brienne had finally met his gaze. He tried to listen while Cersei commanded instructions to call her soldiers to arms, but the look in Brienne's eyes disconcerted him. She didn't look reassured or grateful. The little crease between her eyebrows that Jaime knew so well indicated her heavy cynicism at Cersei's words. Jaime was reproachful; after all, she had got what she wanted, Cersei was now siding with them all, and they might indeed have a chance at defeating this Army of the Dead. Why did Brienne doubt?

Her barely concealed scepticism bothered Jaime so much that he even hung back for a moment as the two groups then bid a frosty farewell and the summit disassembled. He watched Brienne move over to speak quietly and practically with Jon Snow and Ser Davos about their arrangements to travel back to Winterfell, a lump rising in his throat.

It was no use. He had to talk to her.

'Ser Jaime,' Cersei said from behind, halting Jaime in his tracks. 'Are you coming?'

As if attuned to Jaime's thoughts, Brienne looked up from the other side of the platform; her heart leapt with both hope and terror, realising that Jaime had been about to approach her. Jaime swallowed slightly as he looked back and forth between her and his sister.

'In a minute,' he said urgently, 'I just need to speak to-'

'No,' Cersei interrupted firmly, her glare menacing. 'You will come now.'

She didn't say 'or else', but she might as well have done; the insinuation was evident enough in her eyes. And it wouldn't have been Jaime himself she was threatening. Frustrated and frightened, Jaime turned to look back at Brienne. She breathed deeply as she took in his earnest, conflicted expression. She ached with pity for his situation. It was toxic. He had no control over his own life. She wondered if he would ever come to realise that himself, or if he would always be blinded by loyalty to that wicked woman beside him.

Looking down and loathing himself, Jaime let out a heavy sigh of resignation. 'Yes, Your Grace,' he mumbled.

Cersei's lips twitched slightly as she cast Brienne the briefest of smug, hateful glances, before clasping her hands together and leading the way out of the Dragonpit. Jaime's face was contorted with turmoil as he looked up and gazed over at Brienne, wordlessly trying to tell her that he was sorry for the way he had spoken so rudely to her earlier. He hoped she would understand, just as much as he hoped she believed the word of his sister. Brienne considered him for a moment, then gave him a reassuring nod, a silent conversation passing between them.

We'll see each other again.

Jaime nodded his head in return, barely a hint of a smile on his weary face. I know we will.

And then with that, Jaime turned and followed his Queen away, Brienne's words from before ringing in his ears as he walked away from her.

He was determined to get started on preparations for the expedition up north as quickly as possible. The sooner they rode to Winterfell, the better. This war against the dead was more important than any pointless fight Cersei was obsessing over. Cersei was unequivocally a bad person – Jaime knew this, and yet Brienne had been the first person to try and get him to see beyond even that, and it resonated deeply with him. Brienne's presence here today had reminded him that there was still good in the world. And he had been with the bad for far too long.

* * * 

~ Present Day ~

Thinking back now to the last time they saw each other, Jaime was met with a sudden surge of bitterness as he recalled how his cruel sister hadn't even granted him chance to bid Brienne farewell all those weeks ago. But that didn't matter now. Now they were here, reunited, with no twisted, jealous Cersei watching over them both like a hawk. Jaime could apologise. He was free to say or do whatever he pleased. He was free.

But, before either Jaime or Brienne had chance to do anything more than stare in wonder at each other, a distraction arrived in the form of Tyrion, Grey Worm and a small entourage of Unsullied soldiers. The crowd parted ways to allow them through, and a tense silence soon fell. Tyrion's eyes were filled with both warmth and trepidation as he looked up at his beloved brother.

'It's just you?' he asked, dreading the answer.

Jaime's expression was heavy as he looked down at Tyrion and slowly began to nod. 'It's just me.'

The sound of his voice sent a shiver running down Brienne's spine that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold. It was then when she realised what Jaime meant, and just how significant those three simple words were. She realised what he had risked, what he had sacrificed, what he had left behind. Pod gave Brienne a sideways glance as she released an unsteady breath, unable to look away from Winterfell's new guest. She just didn't know what to think anymore. This man was unfathomable.

Her reverie was broken when Grey Worm then marched forward and held his hand out abruptly, a prominent scowl on his face.

'Hand over your sword,' he said gruffly to Jaime. 'You will be coming with us.'

Tyrion looked almost embarrassed by his companion. 'Grey Worm, that's unnecessary,' he said firmly. 'Ser Jaime has not come to fight us-'

'It's all right,' Jaime said in a low, reassuring voice to Tyrion, and he looked up at Grey Work resignedly. 'I understand you have your orders. Do as you must. But know that I am here to help, in any way I can.'

'That is not of interest to our Queen. You are the Kingslayer,' Grey Worm spat in disgust, and Jaime flinched; he wondered if the sound of that word would ever stop piercing him like a knife to the heart? 'You murdered Queen Daenerys' father, and you must pay for your crimes.'

Brienne was appalled. 'No, you can't-!' she protested at once, making Jaime's heart skip a beat, but Grey Worm cut over her.

'Stand back!' he commanded, halting her before she could come any closer, and he turned his attention back to Jaime. 'Queen Daenerys requests a trial be held for you at noon. In the meantime, you will come with us.'

Jaime's chin trembled slightly as he tried to recover his expression into something a little more neutral. He hadn't exactly been expected to be welcomed back at Winterfell with open arms, but he certainly hadn't prepared for such a hostile greeting. He glanced down at Tyrion, who had closed his eyes and bent his head in shame – for who was he to go against his Queen's orders? – and then looked back at Brienne. Her nostrils were flared, her brow furrowed, her knuckles cracked, and she was staring, outraged, at Grey Worm. She looked ready to protest further, but her eyes met Jaime's and, with barely a shake of his head, he wordlessly told her to stand down.

With a heavy sigh, Jaime reached for his sword and handed it reluctantly over to Grey Worm. Grey Worm took it roughly and then ordered two of his soldiers forward to escort Jaime inside. Jaime swallowed as the soldiers took hold of his arms; he looked away from Brienne in shame and his eyes found Bran instead, still watching the activity closely from the other end of the courtyard. It was only then when Jaime looked truly scared.

Brienne watched anxiously; Jaime's expression was already that of a guilty man as he allowed Grey Worm and the Unsullied to take him away. The crowd was beginning to erupt in jeers; the smallfolk spat at Jaime's feet and shrieked horrid insults at him as he passed, and it made Brienne feel sick to her stomach.

'He looked like he'd seen a ghost,' Pod noted, once Jaime and his captors had disappeared inside the castle.

Brienne's eyes fell on Bran, who seemed almost frozen in some sort of trance as he stared into the distance. 'Perhaps he had,' she murmured.

'So what happens now? If he's being put on trial…' Pod trailed off hopelessly.

When Brienne spoke, her voice was unnaturally small and scared. 'I don't know.'

Chapter Text

It was merely hours later when Jaime was brought to the great hall, where Daenerys Targaryen, Sansa Stark and Jon Snow all sat at the high table waiting for him with looks of judgement and disapproval already on their faces. Brienne, along with many of the other lords and ladies residing at Winterfell, sat at the side of the hall and waited anxiously as Grey Worm and the Unsullied soldiers marched him inside. Jaime swallowed nervously as he walked past and took in all those strange, angry faces frowning up at him; thankfully, he caught sight of Brienne, but to his disappointment she wasn't looking at him. She was too fraught to meet his nervous gaze, and it was only when he'd come to a halt at the front of the hall, directly opposite the high table, that Brienne forced herself to look up.

It would have been an understatement to say that Jaime looked somewhat different to how he had when he'd last visited Winterfell all those years ago. Back then he had been young, clean-shaven, devastatingly handsome and dressed very ornately in splendid shining armour, with glamorous golden hair that flowed out dramatically. He'd even held himself differently; he'd stool tall and proud, his arrogance seeping from every miniscule movement and every boastful, snide comment or expression. And yet now Jaime stood innocently before his judicators with an almost panicked gleam in his eyes and a much less egotistical demeanour, his still-handsome face lined and worn and obscured by a greying beard, his hair shaggy and unkempt, his clothing a drab unassuming black. He looked almost more wolf than lion now. Many of the Northern folk here barely recognised the Kingslayer at all. It was as if he were a completely different man.

There was a tense silence as the Unsullied marched away from Jaime, leaving him alone and vulnerable in the centre of the hall. Jaime frowned, still rather perturbed by the formalities and absurd necessity of this particular gathering, and tilted his head slightly at the dragon queen sat proudly before him, curious to see what she had to say. Far behind him at the other end of the hall, Brienne watched with baited breath as Daenerys Targaryen then sat up straighter in her chair to address him.

'When I was a child, my brother would tell me a bedtime story,' Daenerys began, and Jaime's face began to fall; he could already see where she was going with this. 'About the man who murdered our father.'

Jaime blinked at the last three words. She spoke them so disdainfully. She glared at him with such contempt, as if he were a monster. Did she really not understand that her father was the one who had been the monster?

'Who stabbed him in the back and cut his throat,' Daenerys went on, sheer hatred in her eyes. 'Who sat down on the Iron Throne and watched as his blood poured onto the floor.'

Jaime lowered his eyes heavily as the horrifying memory of that day flooded back into his mind, as it so often did. This trial wasn't going to go well for him at all. A small part of him was tempted to speak up, to tell Daenerys the tale of what had really happened, of the real reason he had been forced to plunge his sword through her father's back. But no, he couldn't. He wouldn't. Not in front of Daenerys, not in front of this room full of resentful people who loathed him so much, not in front of anyone. That story was his most intimate secret, a story that he had carried with him for all these years, a story that he wasn't comfortable with anyone in this world knowing.

Apart from one.

At least he could be comforted by the fact that that very person was sat mere metres from him, knowing his personal truth, knowing he was being unfairly reprimanded, knowing he wasn't the murderous traitor Daenerys and the others so clearly saw him as.

'He told me other stories as well,' Daenerys continued, and Jaime looked down and let out an inaudible sigh. 'About all the things we would do to that man…once we took back the Seven Kingdoms and had him in our grasp.'

Brienne's lips parted in horror. She glanced over at Tyrion, who was stood not too far away from the high table, his eyes flicking nervously back and forth between his Queen and his brother. He looked almost as troubled as Brienne felt. Jaime, on the other hand, felt more incredulous rather than afraid. He narrowed his eyes at Daenerys, frowning at her words. Was it really doing any good for her to waste time making melodramatic threats while there was an army of dead men fast approaching?

'Your sister pledged to send her army north.'

'She did,' Jaime said, his voice breaking slightly on the last word.

Daenerys seemed unimpressed by how sorry he sounded. 'I don't see an army. I see one man. With one hand,' she said scornfully, and Brienne felt herself go cold inside as she watched Daenerys. 'It appears your sister lied to me.'

Jaime exchanged a heavy glance with Tyrion before turning back to Daenerys. 'She lied to me as well,' he said, ashamed, and he shook his head. 'She never had any intention of sending her army north. She has Euron Greyjoy's fleet and 20,000 fresh troops – the Golden Company from Essos, bought and paid for. Even if we defeat the dead, she'll have more than enough to destroy the survivors.'

'"We"?' Daenerys said incredulously, turning her glare from Tyrion to Jaime; she seemed almost amused by his use of the word.

Jaime hesitated, offended by her doubt in him. 'I promised to fight for the living. I intend to keep that promise,' he said sincerely.

Brienne felt a great rush of warmth for the man. She knew she had been right to have faith in him all this time. Daenerys just didn't know him at all; she didn't recognise that Jaime was wise, that he was decent, that he was honest, that he was good. None of them did.

Daenerys simply stared at Jaime, unsure of what to think. Only hatred filled her expression. Tyrion then decided to take advantage of the silence and stepped forward urgently.

'Your Grace, I know my brother,' Tyrion began, but Daenerys cut over him sharply.

'Like you knew your sister?'

Tyrion lowered his eyes regretfully. 'He came here alone, knowing full well how he'd be received. Why would he do that if he weren't telling the truth?' he pointed out imploringly.

'Perhaps he trusts his little brother to defend him, right up to the moment he slits my throat,' Daenerys suggested coldly, and Jaime's heart sank; there really was no hope for him.

'You're right. We can't trust him,' Lady Sansa said to Daenerys, and she cast Jaime a disgusted look. 'He attacked my father in the streets. He tried to destroy my house and my family, the same as he did yours-'

'Do you want me to apologize? I won't,' Jaime said firmly, incensed. 'We were at war. Everything I did, I did for my house and my family. I'd do it all again.'

Brienne felt her lips twitch slightly as she watched him. She was glad he was defending himself. Perhaps it was unwise, given his frosty reception, but it was courageous of him, and true to the honest man she knew him to be.

'The things we do for love.'

Bran Stark's words rang out unnervingly across the great hall, meaningless to everyone but Jaime, who looked deeply uneasy as he turned in shock to look at the young crippled man in the chair at the other side of the high table. Bran simply stared back at him; after a few moments, Jaime looked away guiltily, his eyes flickering downwards in regret and shame. He seemed nervous all of a sudden; afraid, even.

'So why have you abandoned your house and family now?' Daenerys asked, frowning as she tried to work out the motives of this mysterious man stood before her.

There was a pause as Jaime, on instinct, inclined his head to find the one kind, familiar face in the room, the one person who mattered to him, the one person whose face he'd continuously pictured to motivate him to ride on as he left King's Landing, the only person whose opinion of him was important.

Brienne exhaled inaudibly as she watched him, her heart rate increasing rapidly.

'Because this goes beyond loyalty,' Jaime said heavily, and he turned around pointedly to Brienne; their eyes met.

In the intensity of the gaze they shared in that brief moment, Brienne felt her pupils dilate and her insides fill with butterflies as she realised what he was trying to acknowledge with merely a look: that she was the reason, that she was the answer to Daenerys' question. Not only that, he was also repeating her own words that she had said to him back in the Dragonpit all those weeks ago. She tilted her head at him, stunned. She could hardly believe it.

Nodding at Brienne, as if to say thank you, Jaime then turned firmly back to Daenerys. 'This is about survival,' he went on.

Tyrion looked at Daenerys hopefully, his gaze earnest as he wordlessly pleaded with her to reconsider what she undoubtedly had planned for Jaime. But it seemed to be no use. Daenerys' jaw was set, her expression hard, her eyes cold and calculating. There was no winning her over.

Brienne hadn't been fearful of Daenerys until this trial – until this very moment, perhaps – but all she could think of was how much she believed in the goodness of the man who was, judging by Daenerys' expression, in imminent danger. As much as she had tried to repress it, Brienne liked Jaime Lannister, and had done for quite some time. She had a growing relationship with this man, she'd shared an experience with him that had connected them in ways neither of them had known with anyone else. She didn't know exactly what form this special relationship took, or if she hoped anything would come out of the burgeoning feelings she had been denying to herself ever since the day of Joffrey Baratheon's wedding, but all she did know was that she wanted to save his life, no matter what. She didn't want him to die as a result of this pathetic, ridiculous trial. She wanted him to be with her.

Before she knew what was happening or had even had time to think up a strategy, Brienne suddenly found that she had leapt to her feet with a loud scrape of her chair. She took a deep breath as Daenerys slid her hostile gaze over to her, and she walked around the table to join Jaime in the centre of the hall.

'You don't know me well, Your Grace,' Brienne began, stepping over to the high table; she came to a halt just in front of Jaime, unaware of his eyes on her, filled with alarm and confusion. 'But I know Ser Jaime. He is a man of honour.'

Jaime looked down, too touched to watch Brienne or to meet the many intrigued pairs of eyes scrutinizing them both. He felt almost disconnected from his body; it was a surreal experience, to hear someone come to his aid and speak on his behalf. His relief and gratitude for Brienne's support overwhelmed him.

'I was his captor once. But when we were both taken prisoner and the men holding us tried to force themselves on me, Ser Jaime defended me. And lost his hand because of it,' Brienne said; Jaime's lips parted slightly and felt a slight twinge of his phantom limb.

Daenerys swallowed uncomfortably.

Irritated by Daenerys' impassive expression, Brienne then turned to address Sansa. 'Without him, my lady…you would not be alive. He armed me, armoured me, and sent me to find you and bring you home,' Brienne said imploringly, her voice brimming with emotion, 'because he'd sworn an oath to your mother.'

A stunned silence fell as everyone assembled in the hall tried to process Brienne's words. Could this really be the Kingslayer she spoke of?

Tyrion was in shock, but Jaime wouldn't look up to meet his indignant gaze; Jaime had never once told Tyrion – or anyone else – the real reason for how he had lost his hand while under Brienne's protection. Tyrion had always assumed that Brienne of Tarth had been nothing more to Jaime than the irritatingly grumpy, dull woman who'd kept him as a prisoner and brought him back to King's Landing. But he could see now, watching their body language and reading Brienne's earnest gaze – not to mention looking back on the brief conversation he had witnessed between them at the Dragonpit back at King's Landing last month – that this was certainly not the case. The two of them had been through something together. They were something to each other. And Tyrion had never been so grateful as he watched Brienne defend his brother without a hint of shame or irony.

Sansa seemed deep in thought as she considered Brienne. 'You vouch for him?'

The pause that followed seemed to feel like the longest three seconds in Jaime's life. He tilted his head towards Brienne, waiting with his heartbeat thudding so loudly he was surprised no one could hear it.

'I do,' Brienne replied.

His eyes smiled an imperceptible smile as Jaime inclined his head slightly away, deeply moved. He already felt like he owed Brienne so much, but this? She was standing up for him when no one else would and she was defending his honour, when years ago she – along with everyone else – had firmly believed he had no knowledge nor experience of the concept. For the first time since entering the castle grounds amongst all these strangers and intimidating, unfriendly faces, he felt important, he felt safe. He even felt loved. And it meant more than he could say.

Sansa nodded slowly. 'You would fight beside him?' she asked Brienne, watching her carefully.

To her astonishment, Brienne could feel a tear swelling to the surface of her eye. There was no doubt about what her answer would be. But she was such a very shy person, and by standing up here in front of all these people and putting herself on the line like this…she might as well be declaring her undying love for him. There was no turning back after this, no going back to her heartless pretence around Jaime. Still, there was no choice. This was Jaime, after all.

'I would,' she answered, her voice ringing out across the room proudly.

Jaime looked up at Brienne in awe. He hadn't known until this moment just how much he meant to her. They had both beaten around the bush so frequently during their past few meetings that their act of indifference and awkward uncertainty around each other had almost been too convincing. But now he knew. Now it was in the open. Brienne saw everything in him when he had always seen nothing. He so dearly wanted to believe in himself, the way she believed in him. He wished he could find some way to reciprocate her sentiment…anything to show her how much he cared. Because he would have done the same for her in a heartbeat, without question, if it had been the other way around. Of course he would. They were Jaime and Brienne, after all. They were and always had been a team, right from the moment Jaime had lost his hand and Brienne had treated his wound in the Riverlands, so many years ago now.

It took Sansa's voice to break Jaime from his trance.

'I trust you with my life. If you trust him with yours, we should let him stay,' Sansa said firmly, ignoring Daenerys' look of horror and disapproval.

As much as Sansa disliked Jaime, she held more value in the words of Brienne. Brienne had risked a lot by throwing herself into the line of fire and standing up for him like that; it was a huge and brave thing for anyone to have done, particularly in front of Daenerys Targaryen. Clearly, there was a lot of respect and history there between the two of them. It even intrigued Sansa; she wanted to know more. Judging from the inquisitive look on everyone's faces, she wasn't the only one.

Brienne nodded her appreciation at Sansa, then turned and promptly returned to her seat, too embarrassed to look at Jaime. As she sat back down contemplating what she had just done, she wondered if her heart rate would ever resume its normal pace. She wouldn't be surprised if not.

'What does the Warden of the North say about it?' Daenerys asked sharply.

Jon Snow, who seemed to have been lost in deep thought, turned to look at Jaime properly for the first time since he'd entered the great hall, and he sighed deeply. 'We need every man we can get,' was his reluctant reply.

Jaime nodded, glad that Jon was seeing sense; perhaps this one wasn't as stupid as he'd originally thought. His gaze was filled with wonder as he realised that Brienne had actually turned the tables on Daenerys slightly – the trial was no longer going according to Daenerys' wishes, it seemed. Jaime felt hopeful that he might even have a chance at being let out of here without being executed on the spot. He tilted his head questioningly at Daenerys, waiting for her decision. He could see in her expression that she still resented him.

She lowered her eyes. 'Very well,' she said in a low voice, and both Brienne and Tyrion inhaled sharply, overcome with relief as Daenerys gestured for Grey Worm to return Jaime's sword to him.

Jaime could barely believe it. In merely the space of minutes, his fate had been decided – and with a positive outcome, all thanks to Brienne.

Grey Worm scowled at Jaime as he came to a halt in front of him and held out Widow's Wail. He clearly didn't trust him. Jaime didn't care; he doubted anyone here really would, aside from the one person who mattered. Jaime reached out for the sword; Grey Worm slammed it roughly into his chest before Jaime could take it. Once Grey Worm had marched away, his face still filled with loathing, Jaime grasped the hilt of his sword tightly and turned to Daenerys.

'Thank you, Your Grace,' he said, trying not to sound too sarcastic as he forced himself to bow.

Daenerys said nothing, and stood up. Everyone assembled in the hall rose to their feet as well; Jaime glanced over at Brienne but she was preoccupied watching Sansa, who had already stalked away without waiting for Daenerys. Jaime could sense that there was tension amongst these people, even without his presence here. But he knew better than most that they could not afford to fight amongst themselves. Or it would be the end of the living entirely.

Jaime bowed his head respectfully as Daenerys left the high table and walked past him, treating him as if he were invisible, before looking back up to see Brienne. She was already walking away in the other direction, presumably to follow Sansa. Sensing him watching her, Brienne just about brought herself to look up to him, and as their eyes met once more across the room, she could see a world of emotions in his gaze. He was so overcome with gratefulness and appreciation for what she had done. She had saved his life by vouching for him, at great personal risk to herself. Jaime would never have expected it of anyone, let alone think that anyone would care that much to do such a thing for him of all people. He yearned to follow her, but knew he couldn't, not right now – Lady Sansa needed her. But he needn't worry. There would be plenty of time in which to talk. What he would say to her, he had no idea, but there was still time.

Feeling herself beginning to blush, Brienne tore her eyes away from Jaime and looked down again. It was too much for her. The significance of what she had done for him and the implications surrounding what that could mean was screaming out at both of them, and she knew she could only avoid it for so long. It scared her, perhaps even more than the thought of those monstrous animated corpses coming to slaughter them all.

As she left the great hall, feeling Jaime's eyes still on her, she thought about Daenerys' sheer open hatred of Jaime, and how, many years ago, Brienne hadn't been much different in her attitude towards him. Indeed, she had felt the same disdain, and even acted and spoken in a similar way as Daenerys had done during the trial today. It almost made her feel like laughing at herself now. Lost in memories as she walked away, Brienne found herself inexplicably remembering the scornful words she had spoken on the very first night she and Jaime met.

'Who wants to die defending a Lannister?'

It seemed that she did.

It was not the first time that either Jaime or Brienne had come to the other's aid, and they both knew it would certainly not be the last. Brienne's testimony in his trial subsequently brought back vivid memories, forcing Jaime to relive the most painful of those occasions – the night that had changed everything for him. Perhaps the night that he had been changed as a person altogether…

***

The Riverlands would have been quiet at night, if it weren't for the drunken jeering and singing of Locke and the rest of House Bolton's men. They had made camp on their way to Harrenhal, but despite their hunger, the smell of the food Locke's men were roasting over the campfire made Jaime and Brienne feel sick rather than hungry. They were both thinking about what Jaime had said would inevitably happen to Brienne tonight. Part of Jaime wished he hadn't said anything; he almost felt sorry for the dull cow as she stared into the distance with horror in her eyes whilst tied up against a tree.

'What are you looking at?' Brienne grumbled, fed up of the pitiful expression on Jaime's scarred, dirty face.

'You,' he muttered. 'I'm just thinking how cruel it was that the gods didn't give you a cock. Such a shame.'

Brienne breathed deeply. 'We both know I'm not a…typical woman. I'm not desirable,' she said, and Jaime scoffed as he looked over her manly features and huge frame and greasy tufts of hair; that was certainly the understatement of the year. 'Why are you so sure they'll even want to have their way with me?'

'What a nice way of putting it,' he said dryly, and he scowled over at Locke's men by the campfire. 'I know those type of men. Whatever the hell you look like, it doesn't matter…your face and stature won't put them off, I'm afraid.'

Brienne glared at him disdainfully. 'Do you enjoy threatening me, Kingslayer?'

'I'm not threatening you, I'm warning you,' Jaime said, frustrated. 'I'm advising you to…let them get on with it, go away inside while they do it, and then it'll be over and you'll still be alive.'

Brienne scoffed. 'You think survival is more important to me than my dignity?'

'I think your oath to Lady Stark is more important to you than anything,' Jaime said, his eyes boring into hers.

She realised then that, in merely the space of a few weeks, Jaime Lannister knew her well – far too well. It shook her so much that she was silenced for a few moments…at least until she heard the approaching footsteps. Jaime looked up anxiously as Locke and four of his men strode over, leering eagerly down at Brienne.

'I'll take the big bitch first,' Locke said triumphantly, making Jaime close his eyes. 'When she's good and wet, you lot can finish her off.'

'My lord, I am Brienne of Tarth,' Brienne said in a calm yet shaking voice as they began to undo the ropes that bound her to the tree; Jaime's lips parted as he watched her be forced up to her feet. 'Lady Catelyn Stark commanded me to deliver Ser Jaime to King's Landing.'

'Catelyn Stark's a treasonous cunt. Orders were to take the Kingslayer alive, nobody said shit about you,' Locke said dismissively.

Brienne stared at him for a fraction of a second before launching herself at one of the soldiers holding her with a yell of defiance; Jaime winced as the scuffle ensued, and closed his eyes as the men slapped her until she was forced to remain still.

'You're only making it worse,' one of them snarled at Brienne, as they seized a chunk of her hair to hold her head back.

Incensed, Brienne banged her head roughly against him, but was knocked breathless as one of the other men punched her in the groin. Jaime's face fell as they continued to beat her. He was shocked by just how much this was troubling him. She was his captor, after all; he didn't even like her. But she was a good woman and only doing what she had been charged to do. She was innocent in all of this. It was his recklessness with their sword fight on the bridge that had landed them in this mess, after all. It was all his fault. He wouldn't have cared about that a few weeks before, yet for some reason it bothered him now.

'Take her over there where it's dark,' Locke muttered menacingly, while Jaime sat deep in thought, his eyes lowered as he tried not to dwell on Brienne's predicament. 'I'd like a little privacy.'

'Come on!'

Determined not to crumble, Brienne continued to fight against them, but the strength of four men was too much, and she was eventually overpowered, and the gang of ruthless soldiers dragged her kicking and screaming away into the bushes. Jaime looked away, shaken and disgusted by this pointless brutality. For the first time since meeting her, he saw Brienne not as a pretend-warrior but as simply a woman, fighting tooth and nail not to be defiled. Her relentless animalistic howls of desperation and fear sent chills down Jaime's back as the men continued to beat and yell at her.

The words escaped Jaime's lips before he even knew what he was doing. 'You know who she is, don't you?'

Locke, who had remained behind, turned around and raised his eyebrows at Jaime. 'A big dumb bitch from who cares where?' he suggested, unperturbed, and Jaime pretended to smile in amusement while Brienne's shrieks continued to rent the air. 'Never been with a woman that big.'

'She's Brienne of Tarth. Her father is Lord Selwyn Tarth,' Jaime said, watching Locke closely, and he tilted his head at him. 'Heard of Tarth?'

Locke frowned at him and slowly took a few steps closer.

Jaime was furious with himself. What are you doing? He was putting himself on the line here. He was risking everything. For what? For her?

'I'm gonna cut your throat!' he heard one of the men yell in the distance, and he heard Brienne whimper.

It was a frightening sound, the sound of a brave, fierce woman who was scared and vulnerable and defenceless and about to give up, a woman who had done nothing wrong in her life, and Jaime knew then for sure. He had to stop this assault. Even if it meant making up the most reckless lie on the spot.

'They call it the Sapphire Isle, do you know why? Every sapphire in Westeros was mined on Tarth,' Jaime said, and he looked up at Locke unsurely. 'Sapphires are…gemstones? The blue ones.'

'I know what they are.'

Brienne let out another blood-curdling shriek; Jaime tilted his head in the direction of the sound, trying hard not to appear concerned. 'Lord Selwyn would pay his daughter's weight in sapphires if she's returned to him,' he said, glancing anxiously back towards the bushes and raising his eyebrows. 'But only if she's alive. Her honour…unbesmirched.'

His eyes flickered back to Locke. He was both hopeful and wary. He couldn't tell from Locke's expression whether he had angered him or not. Locke considered him for a moment then turned heavily to the direction of the bushes.

'Bring her back here!' he ordered.

To his bewilderment, Jaime felt a wave of relief wash over him.

'Yes, my lord!'

Lowering his eyes, Jaime slowly looked away from Locke's penetrating glare; he hadn't realised until now just how fast his heart had been beating in fear. Did this mean he had a conscience? Jaime wasn't sure. He was completely baffled.

'"Unbesmirched," Locke said, unimpressed, as he took a few steps closer towards Jaime.

Jaime hesitated for a moment, confused, and smiled. 'Not defiled,' he clarified, trying not to sound too condescending.

'Fancy word for a fancy man.'

'I hated to read as a child, but my father forced me to study the books every morning before I could practice with a sword or horse,' Jaime explained, as Locke's men escorted Brienne aggressively back to the tree. 'Two hours every day holed up in the maester's chambers. I learned a lot of fancy words.'

'I bet you did,' Locke said, in a tone Jaime couldn't quite place.

Jaime stared up at him, before turning his gaze to Brienne; she was kicking back at the soldiers as they bound her back in ropes and tied her to the tree trunk. Jaime couldn't help admire her for her stubbornness; despite what had almost just happened, she looked more angry and intent on revenge than distressed. Her hair was a mess, her face was bruised and there was a trail of blood on her cheek, but other than that she looked reasonably unharmed. No part of her clothing seemed to have been ripped or removed, Jaime was glad to see. While the Bolton men continued to bark insults at her, Locke slowly bent down so that he was on Jaime's eye level.

'Your father…he'd pay your weight in gold to get you back?' he asked.

Jaime nodded heavily. 'You'll be a rich man till the end of your days,' he replied in a low voice, as an exhausted Brienne looked up with a frown, realising what was going on…what Jaime must have bargained before. 'And your sons will be rich men and their sons after them. Lands, titles – you'll have them all.'

Locke was listening intently. Brienne was half-fascinated, half-wary as she managed to start breathing normally again. Her ribs and face ached where Locke's men had beaten her, but she had suffered much worse before. How was it they had stopped? Why had Locke commanded them to bring her back? Could the answer really be in the clever, scheming, arrogant man chained up to the tree trunk opposite her?

'The North…can't win this war,' Jaime went on to Locke. 'You're a smart man, you understand that. We have the numbers, we have the gold.'

'Aye, you have both,' Locke agreed.

'Fighting bravely for a losing cause is admirable,' Jaime said reasonably, his tone tantalising. 'But fighting for a winning cause…is far more rewarding.'

'Hard to argue with that.'

A smug smile began to spread on Jaime's face. 'Now that we're speaking together man to man, I wonder…if you need to keep me chained to this tree?' he said, and Brienne's eyes widened slightly; what was this idiot doing?! 'I'm not asking to be freed from my constraints…but if I could sleep lying down…my back would thank you for it. I'm not as young and resilient as I was once.'

'None of us are,' Locke said sympathetically, and he knelt up.

A slight smile on his face, Jaime glanced over at Brienne, still watching him apprehensively, her face creased with worry. He wasn't sure why her expression was so uneasy; he'd prevented her from getting raped, after all, and had won over Locke with his charms and promises of money. This would undoubtedly be a much easier journey for them both from now on. They might even be honoured guests rather than prisoners.

'Unchain Ser Jaime from the tree,' Locke then ordered to one of his men, confirming Jaime's thoughts.

Jaime tilted his head at Brienne and gave her a smug look. There, see? Oh – and you're welcome, by the way.

Brienne stared at him, hating that satisfied smirk and flicker of his eyebrows. Why was he not afraid of Locke's unnaturally calm attitude? Why was he under the impression that this was going so well? Why could he never learn to just keep his stupid mouth shut? His over-confidence would be the death of him, Brienne was sure of it.

'Suppose you'll be wanting something to eat,' Locke said to Jaime, as his men undid Jaime's manacles.

Jaime couldn't believe his luck. 'I'm famished, actually.'

Brienne's lips parted in horror. Something was definitely wrong. There was no way Locke would let the Kingslayer eat from his men's food. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but she wasn't sure what. All she could so was exhale deeply.

'I think we've got a spare partridge on the fire.'

'Well, I do like partridge,' Jaime said eagerly, and he grunted with pain as he was helped unsteadily up to his feet.

He flashed Brienne a wink as he followed Locke away towards the campfire. Brienne tried to look around the trunk anxiously, wanting to shout out a warning to him, but it was too late; he had already walked past her, completely blinded by his own ego, and was now blocked from view.

'Bring the bird over here. And the carving knife,' Locke said, and he gestured a small flat tree stump over on the ground. 'Will this work as a table, my lord?'

Jaime nodded gratefully. 'Oh, yes. Yes, this will do nicely-'

But then Jaime yelled out in agony as he was kicked to the ground by one of Locke's men. They dragged him over to the stump and forced his head and hands there to rest. Locke stepped forward and seized a chunk of Jaime's hair.

'You think you're the smartest man there is,' he said scornfully, as he pulled out the carving knife and held it threateningly to Jaime's eye. 'That everyone alive has to bow and scrape and lick your boots.'

Struggling against Locke's hold, Jaime found himself trying desperately not to panic; that blade was unbearably close to his eye. 'My father-'

But Locke interrupted him. 'And if you get in any trouble, all you've got to do is say "my father" and that's it, all your troubles are gone.'

'Don't-'

'Have you got something to say?' Locke challenged, and he pricked the corner of Jaime's eyelid; Jaime winced and grunted, terrified. 'Careful. You don't want to say the wrong thing. You're nothing without your daddy, and your daddy ain't here. Never forget that. Here – this should help you remember!'

It had already happened before Jaime realised that Locke had swung down the blade onto the stump. He saw the hand detach from his wrist first. And then he felt the pain.

To this day, Brienne could still remember her terror and outrage when she heard Jaime's horrible screams. It was only a few minutes later, when Jaime was brought back over to the tree trunk, flailing about and crying out in agony, when she discovered what they had done to him.

'What did you do?!' Brienne demanded at once over Jaime's shrieks of pain, and she watched in horror as Locke and his men threw him carelessly onto the mossy ground. 'The Kingslayer-!'

But then she broke off as she saw the blood gushing profusely from Jaime's right wrist. And then she saw what Locke was holding up gleefully as he and his men laughed.

Brienne was disgusted; furious, even. 'You cut off his hand?!' she yelled incredulously, struggling against the ropes tying her to the tree. 'Why would you-?!'

'BECAUSE I FUCKING WANTED TO, ALL RIGHT?' Locke bellowed in her face, making her flinch.

Brienne turned her wide, petrified eyes to Jaime, who had curled up in a ball on the ground as he yelled out. Tears of agony were cascading down his face as he moaned and clutched the gaping wound with his left hand. She would never have expected to see a man like him cry before. She hadn't even thought someone like the Kingslayer would be capable of tears.

'Now clean the mess and fix him up,' Locke snapped at Brienne.

'Me?! What can I do?!' Brienne protested over Jaime's screams. 'This isn't just a simple scratch, you cut off his hand! He needs a maester right away!'

But Locke and the soldiers merely laughed. 'We're days away from the nearest maester.'

'This is your doing,' Brienne said angrily, 'you're the one who need to-'

'You're the one charged with protecting him, you dumb fucking bitch!' Locke chastised, and he slapped her clean around the face; her cheek burned where his hand had made contact. 'And unless you want to go back in those bushes, I suggest you help him before he bleeds out and dies on your watch!'

Brienne glared up at this monstrous man, and realised that Jaime Lannister was nothing compared to him. In fact, after what she had experienced with this horrific group of men today, the Kingslayer seemed positively delightful company.

'Then get me the hell out of these ropes. I can't do anything for him from here!' Brienne insisted, and she cast them all filthy looks and made sure to kick Locke's men in the shins as they untied her from the tree trunk.

It took her quite a while to calm down Jaime and shush him enough to tend to his horrific, unsightly wound. Brienne asked for the Bolton men's help in providing her with some sort of material to wrap around his wrist, but they all simply laughed in her face and walked away, finally bored with seeing her struggle to silence Jaime's weeping. Jaime didn't care that Brienne was touching him or that she and the other men were seeing him cry; he was in too much agony to be mortified by her closeness or his distressed behaviour.

'It's all right…it…it'll be all right,' Brienne said to him over and over again.

She was trying to reassure him, albeit reluctantly, however as time passed and the constant flow of blood and yelling didn't cease coming, she only grew more impatient and irritable. In spite of his past actions and misdeeds, Brienne did truly feel sorry for the Kingslayer – no one deserved what Locke had just done to him – however there was only so much endless yelling that she could bear. The noise didn't help her cope with the shock of what had just happened, but she knew if she dissociated from it or succumbed to her frozen panic about the situation, she would be of no use to Jaime. And he desperately needed her to stop the bleeding.

Brienne managed to tear some material off Jaime's cloak that had been discarded on the ground, and she fashioned a bandage and sling from it to fasten around him and wrap around the stump. By this point, Jaime had lost a considerable amount of blood; he had paled slightly and appeared delirious, even almost on the point of collapse.

'My lady…' Jaime murmured in a strained voice, as he lay propped against the tree trunk beside her while she worked. 'Tell Cersei I-'

'I won't be telling your sister anything, you'll tell her yourself,' Brienne said firmly, ripping off more material from his cloak. 'We'll make it to King's Landing.'

'She'll hate me for this,' Jaime mumbled, whimpering as she wrapped the bandage around his wrist, and Brienne almost pitied him. 'She'll…'

'Quiet, Kingslayer,' Brienne muttered, disgruntled by the thick amount of blood that covered her hands. 'You're not making this any better for yourself.'

His eyelids flickered slightly as he glimpsed up at her, half-amused, half-disappointed. 'You still can't call me by my name.'

Brienne gave him a hard look, annoyed. She wouldn't let him guilt-trip her into feeling bad about that. He had earned the name 'Kingslayer'. He had to accept that. Jaime glared back at her. He supposed he ought to thank her for not letting him bleed out, but another part of him wanted to yell at her.

Ungrateful cow. Look at what you made me do.

Not that it was her fault. Something had stirred Jaime into doing what he did by speaking to Locke that way and persuading him to leave Brienne alone. He'd known what a bold move it was. Although, admittedly, he hadn't even considered he was risking the loss of his sword hand by simply defending the honour of a virgin. He wondered if he would have done anything differently tonight, had he known the dire consequences of his actions. Right now, with Brienne scowling over him and his right arm in the pain that it was, he was only left with the bitter longing thoughts of what could have been if he'd just not said anything at all when Brienne was taken away. But then the sounds of her animalistic screams of protest rang through his ears again, and Jaime barely repressed a shudder. He couldn't have let it happen, no matter what. He'd had no choice.

'Hold still,' Brienne said in a low, warning voice.

She'd made a cloth out of some of the material from Jaime's cloak and dabbed it in some of the water left for her and Jaime. As she'd predicted, the moment the cloth made contact with his bleeding wound, Jaime let out another almighty yell of agony that pierced her eardrums; she flinched back and rolled her eyes exasperatedly. The Kingslayer wasn't half as brave as she'd imagined him to be.

'What the fuck are you doing?!' Jaime demanded as he drew his arm back, outraged.

'I'm trying to stop the bleeding! It needs to be cleaned so it won't get infected, and this needs to be wrapped around it tightly,' Brienne said sharply, indicating the bandage fastened around him and the cloth in her hands. 'So you need to stay still!'

'Well you need to…have less manly hands!' Jaime yelled.

'This is going to hurt regardless of the size and pressure of my hands, Kingslayer!' Brienne snapped.

Jaime's face faltered as he rested his head back against the trunk, exhausted. 'Don't call me that.'

'Then don't shout at me when I'm trying to help you!' Brienne retorted, running her hands irritably through her hair.

She was so, so tired. She just wanted to sleep.

A silence fell as Brienne dabbed firmly at the wound, and Jaime tried his best to keep his winces and groans as quiet as possible. He felt so dizzy, as if he might faint at any moment. He frowned as he then noticed the flecks of red where Brienne had tried pushing her hair out of her face.

'You have blood in your hair,' he noted.

'It doesn't matter, I have blood all over me,' Brienne muttered dismissively, as she finished wrapping the rest of the bandage tightly around his stump.

But for some reason, it bothered Jaime. He leant off the tree trunk and reached out for the water container; with his left hand, he tried to cup some water from it and flicked it over Brienne's hair, where he then ran through it with his fingers. Her hair was greasy, like straw, and also covered in bits of leaves from the bush she had been dragged over to earlier. He leant back and collapsed against the trunk, exhausted; there was still a bit of blood there in her messy fringe, but at least some of it was gone.

Brienne was perplexed by the gesture, though admittedly not as repulsed as she once might have been. She supposed he wouldn't have reached out to touch her if he wasn't so delirious from the loss of blood.

She swallowed slightly. 'I'm sorry for what he did to you,' she said quietly, her voice almost gentle.

A single tear fell from Jaime's eye as he nodded, his breathing finally slowed to a normal rate.

His head was lolling slightly against the trunk, and he was barely able to keep his eyes open. When Brienne finally finished with the bandage, she rested his right arm carefully on his chest, and then reached out. Her hand hesitated for a moment – after all, she had never initiated physical contact with someone before – but then braved through her awkwardness and she put a hand on his shoulder. Jaime's shoulders untensed at the warm contact of her skin, and for the first time since Locke had severed his hand hours ago, he felt somewhat relaxed. In pain and desperately ill, but still, relaxed.

Brienne sighed sympathetically as she watched him close his eyes and groan in pain. He needed a comforting touch tonight. She knew if it hadn't been for him, she would still be in those bushes being assaulted. He had saved her. So it was the least she could do, to give him some reassurance that everything would turn out all right, as he slowly lost consciousness and fell asleep, his head finally coming to rest on her strong yet gentle hand.

Chapter Text

~ Present Day ~

There was a building sense of urgency and dread as Jaime emerged from the Godswood to remind himself of the layout of the Winterfell's grounds. Men, women, children and soldiers were all hurrying anxiously about the courtyard, gathering weapons and making all the necessary preparations to defend the castle, the tension steadily rising. Quite a few people looked determined, but most of their faces were filled with fear – apart from when they caught sight of Jaime walking past them, now free to roam wherever he chose, in which case their faces were suddenly filled with loathing and disdain. It came as a relief for Jaime to find one face who didn't look upon him in such a way.

'Well,' Tyrion said heavily, 'here we are.'

Jaime almost smiled as he approached his brother. 'Yes, here we are.'

'Together again,' Tyrion said, and he raised his eyebrows as a soldier up on the stairwell above them cleared his throat and spit on the ground in disgust at the two Lannisters. 'And the masses rejoice.'

'How do they feel about their new queen?' Jaime asked, intrigued, as he carried on walking.

Tyrion frowned as he followed. 'She's your new queen too,' he said, and Jaime looked back at him sceptically, before realising that Tyrion actually had a point – he had abandoned his own queen, after all. 'They remember what happened the last time Targaryens brought dragons north. They'll come around once they see Daenerys is different.'

'And she is? Different?'

Jaime was sceptical, but mostly worried; was Tyrion blinded by loyalty to comprehend what little Jaime had seen in that woman during his trial merely an hour ago? Daenerys' stony expression, her cold, scornful eyes…they had reminded him of her father. Her father who still plagued his nightmares, even after all this time.

'She is.'

Jaime frowned as he nodded. 'You're sure about her?'

'I am,' Tyrion replied confidently.

'She didn't seem sure about you,' Jaime noted as they walked on.

Tyrion sighed. 'It's hard to blame her. I made a mistake common to clever people – I underestimated my opponents. Cersei told me the pregnancy had changed her…a chance for you both to start again, and I believed her,' Tyrion said in a low, bitter voice, and he then came to a halt as he gazed pitifully up into his brother's eyes. 'Was she lying about the baby too?'

There was a small pause as Jaime looked down and shook his head shamefully. If there was one thing he regretted about leaving Cersei, it was the fact that he had left her carrying his unborn child.

'No,' he said in a small voice, 'that part is real.'

Tyrion considered him for a moment, his expression full of sympathy, before they both turned to walk up the steps towards the battlements.

'She's always been good at using the truth to tell lies. I wouldn't be too hard on yourself. She's fooled me more than anybody,' Jaime said heavily, but Tyrion stopped then and gave him a sceptical look; Jaime was perplexed. 'What?'

'She never fooled you. You always knew exactly what she was,' Tyrion said, 'and you loved her anyway.'

He turned and made his way up the steps, leaving Jaime staring after him, a heavy sunken feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Tyrion was right. Jaime's love for Cersei was, had always been, and most likely would always be unconditional. Nothing could break it, no matter what she did. The form this love took had changed, of course, particularly in the last few weeks while Jaime had had time to contemplate his feelings during his ride up to Winterfell; it was no longer the romantic kind, and he certainly no longer felt lustful at the mere thought of her. But, no matter how much of a monster Cersei became, she was still his sister. His twin, his other half. And the mother of his child. Jaime wished it weren't the case, but she was a part of him. He was free of her now, but he didn't know how long he would last until she somehow got a hold of him again. But he could try and fight it. Now was his chance. To prove to Tyrion, to Brienne, to Daenerys, to Bran, to everyone, that he was doing the right thing.

'I know Ser Jaime. He is a man of honour.'

It was Brienne's words from before that broke him free from his frozen state, and he followed Tyrion up the steps so they could check the defences around the castle battlements.

'So,' Tyrion said bitterly as they looked out onto the courtyard below. 'We're going to die. At Winterfell. Not the death I would've chosen. I always pictured myself dying in my own bed, at the age of 80, with a belly full of wine and a girl's mouth around my cock-'

'-A girl's mouth around your cock,' Jaime said simultaneously, and they both shared an amused smile.

'At least Cersei won't get to murder me,' Tyrion muttered, and Jaime looked down; he didn't want to think about his sister. 'I'm sure I'll feel some satisfaction denying her that pleasure, while I'm being ripped apart by dead men-'

But Jaime was distracted by the sound of a distinctive voice from nearby. The voice he could never forget, the voice of his sanity, the voice that had kept him going all this time. He turned around, and there she was: Brienne, inspecting the outer fields surrounding the castle, stood there in the armour he had given her, tall and mighty, impressive and majestic and determined. Jaime did a double-take and felt his pupils dilate as he took in the sight of her, doing her duty, commanding her fellow soldiers, serving honourably, doing everything he had always revered about her. And she was right there in front of him.

No longer interested in whatever it was his brother was saying about Cersei, Jaime felt himself walk away from Tyrion, drawn inexplicably to the mere sight of Brienne stood from afar. He had a growing need to be beside her, and it disconcerted him greatly. He could barely hear Tyrion still rambling on from the other side of the battlements; he only had eyes for Brienne.

'Maybe after I'm dead…I'll march down to King's Landing and rip her apart,' Tyrion was saying, but his smug smile fell when he turned to see that Jaime was no longer stood beside him.

Frowning curiously, Tyrion turned around; Jaime was stood with his back to him, facing the outer castle grounds. He already knew who Jaime was gazing at so longingly before he even walked over to join him. And sure enough, there she was – Brienne of Tarth, surrounded by soldiers training and laying the battle traps. He glimpsed up at Jaime, though for the first time in his life, he couldn't read his own brother's expression. He wondered if he was reliving Brienne's words of support for him inside the great hall, or something else entirely.

Jaime blinked rapidly as he watched Brienne stride in between the various soldiers fighting with their swords. Just the sight of her made everything in this world seem different. The way she looked, the way she moved, the way she stood, made Jaime feel things he had never felt before. The intensity of these stirrings in him alarmed him greatly; it was like he could practically feel his heart glowing, purely just from looking at her. What was this affect Brienne had on him? He had never known anything like it before.

'A remarkable woman, isn't she?' Tyrion interjected.

Jaime almost jumped; he hadn't realised that Tyrion had moved to stand there next to him. 'Y-yes, she is,' he replied, unable to tear his eyes off her.

'She's also the reason you're still alive,' Tyrion noted, a slightly sly tone to his voice. 'What you did to deserve such loyalty from her, I have no idea, but I would very much like to hear the tale sometime.'

Jaime turned and frowned down at his brother, wondering what Tyrion was insinuating. 'I told you about the time I was her prisoner.'

'Yes…although, I suspect you missed out some details.'

Jaime's cheeks flooded with colour as he turned away from Tyrion's scrutinizing gaze. 'I don't know what you mean,' he said, his eyes firmly on Brienne as she began speaking to Podrick.

'There's no point in pretending around me, Jaime,' Tyrion said exasperatedly. 'I saw the way you two looked at each other in the hall. You're not just some former prisoner of hers, you're something far much more, and you're an idiot if you don't realise that. And…I suspect…she means a great deal more to you than you've let on.'

There was a pause as Jaime swallowed and closed his eyes, concentrating on the sounds of the clanging swords and neighing horses, trying to focus on anything but Tyrion's interrogation. But it was no use. He couldn't lie anymore, to Tyrion or to himself. What was the point, when Brienne was the main reason he had come all this way here?

'I won't deny that,' Jaime admitted, turning to face his brother. 'Brienne saved me many times during our time together. We endured horrors on our journey back to King's Landing…'

'And you formed a bond because of it. The kind that cannot be broken,' Tyrion said understandingly. 'Almost like with you and Cersei.'

At this, Jaime frowned. 'Don't compare Lady Brienne to our sister,' he snapped. 'She's nothing like her.'

Tyrion's face broke out in a warm smile. 'No. She is good and honourable. She is everything you admire,' he said, and he inclined his head in Brienne's direction. 'So why are you still stood up here talking to me?'

Jaime's eyes widened slightly, and he looked back to Brienne. He felt himself begin to smile. He turned back to Tyrion and clapped him on the shoulder, overwhelmingly grateful for his support and encouragement.

'I'll find you later,' Jaime said, and with that he walked away from his smugly-smiling brother, taking deep breaths as he headed towards the stairwell to leave the battlements.

The thought of talking to Brienne had once made him so irritated, but now it filled him with nerves – and even, dare he say it, excitement? This would be their first conversation since their discourteous exchange at the Dragonpit several weeks ago. He still didn't know what to say to her; there was so much to be said, and yet so much still yet to unravel in his mind. For the duration of his lonely journey up here, Jaime had been conscious that, upon reconciling, there could be an ever so slight chance of something happening between himself and Brienne. After all, he wasn't an idiot and neither was she; they had both been there at Riverrun, after all. They had both felt it, that something, between them. And after what Brienne had done for him in his trial…they simply couldn't go much longer without addressing it.

This prospect alone made Jaime terrified, but in a good way. It was strange; he hadn't experienced this before. He had never once 'courted' in his life. How did it work? What would he do? What would he say? He could only hope that Brienne would go easy on him and not reject him or make him feel like a fool, but Jaime sincerely doubted it. This was Brienne, after all. He smiled fondly, amused at the thought, as he nervously made his way out of the castle courtyard to find her.

Jaime couldn't fathom how he used to think so badly of her when they'd first met.

'Where did you find this beast?' he had said, on the night he'd first caught a glimpse of her, in his dark cell outdoors.

A 'beast', he had called her, and he had called her this to her face many times during his first few weeks with her in the Riverlands. But oh how wrong he had been. She was caring, she was loyal, she was fierce, she was wonderful…all of this turning her into the most beautiful person Jaime had ever met. And she had no idea.

Looking back now on their time together as he walked out into the outer field, it hit Jaime just how Brienne had always been there for him, even from the days when they had pretended to hate each other so much while in Locke's captivity. Jaime had always been able to depend on her, even when he'd seen her as an enemy. He'd just been so blind to it back then. But not anymore. As Tyrion had put it, Brienne really was a remarkable woman. And, somehow, some way, Jaime was going to make sure she knew that.

* * *

The severed hand hung around his neck, a constant reminder of how his once unimpeachable prowess as a fighter and glorified knight had been taken away from him. It was the lowest point of Jaime Lannister's life, and everyone in the vicinity knew it as they rode on through the woods, jeering away. Only one person wasn't laughing at him: his captor – although now technically his fellow hostage companion – and today marked the first day since knowing her that he hadn't seen Brienne even scowl at him. She was too full of pity, confusion and shock for that.

'How many of those fingers do you think we could shove up his arse?'

'Depends if he's had any practice.'

Jaime didn't say anything as Locke and his men continued to torment him. He barely even heard them. He was frozen with shock. This morning when he'd woken up, he'd momentarily forgotten what had happened. Then he'd thought it had been a particularly horrific dream. And then he'd looked down at the stump Brienne had wrapped in a bandage, and the terror and pain had pierced him once more.

Brienne watched him anxiously as she rode on a horse close beside him. She was overwhelmed with sympathy for him, but she was also extremely worried for his health; he was pale, ghostly pale, and desperately weak, with his head bent low, staring at nothing, a few low grunts escaping his mouth as he tried to keep upright on his horse. He was empty of all expression, empty of all hope. Empty of anything. He had lost too much blood last night, far too much. She wondered if she would have been as bothered by this a few days ago, back when he had been nothing more than the cruel, malicious Kingslayer doing his very best to mock and insult her at every opportunity he got so that he could seize an opportunity to escape. But now Brienne was starting to see something more in him, something different. Now he was just a pitiful, wounded man who had lied to a dangerous, ruthless monster in order to protect her honour. It stunned her. Had she got her facts wrong before? Had she been too quick to judge? Could he really be capable of empathy?

Her frown of confusion seemed permanently etched on her face as she gazed over at him in concern, but Jaime didn't even notice. The world around him had turned into nothing but a blur. He felt like he was going to collapse at any minute, just like how his whole life had last night. The devastation over what had happened was too raw for him to even contemplate being angry or upset. Even the searing pain where his hand had once been wasn't enough to distract him from the overwhelming sense of loss in himself.

What do I do now? he kept asking himself. What's the point? Why should I carry on?

'Is that the sort of thing you and your sister go in for, Kingslayer?' Locke said leeringly from the horse at Jaime's other side. 'She loosened you up for us?'

Locke let out a roar of laughter as he rode ahead. Brienne was disgusted by him; indeed, she felt inclined to say something had she not noticed Jaime then begin to lean sideways on his horse. He was losing balance – either that, or consciousness. He was far too weak for any of this. He needed rest and treatment, as Brienne had insisted this morning, but Locke hadn't listened. He didn't care.

'He's going to fall,' Brienne said urgently as Jaime lolled more to the side, but the men ignored her. 'He's going to fall off his horse, someone help him!'

But they carried on regardless, and sure enough Jaime then collapsed into a pile of sloppy mud. Everyone came to a halt and Brienne watched, grimacing, as Jaime struggled to hold himself upright. He crawled through the mud towards Locke, who had got down from his horse along with a few of his other men.

'Water. Water. Please, water,' Jaime begged desperately in a hoarse voice, barely more than a whisper, his entire face and body covered in muck. 'Wa-water. Water, please. Please. Please-'

But he trailed off into silence as one of Locke's men poured his container of water over Jaime's head. The rest of the men laughed, while Brienne rolled her eyes, trying desperately to refrain herself from shouting insults at them. She knew what would happen if she did.

Locke stepped towards Jaime and tilted his head at him.

'If I die, you won't be getting-' Jaime began weakly, but Locke cut over him.

'Oh, enough. Here,' Locke said, handing him his own container; Brienne watched suspiciously as Jaime grabbed the container and took a huge swig from it. 'Can't say that I've ever seen a man drink horse piss that fast.'

Brienne groaned in disgust as all the men roared with laughter yet again and Jaime spat out the drink, looking like he might be sick. Brienne closed her eyes regretfully; there was nothing she could do for him. He was completely on his own, being treated like nothing more than a wild animal. Perhaps he deserved it, for all the wrong he had done before in his life. But it was still uncomfortable for her to watch.

She was then abruptly forced to open her eyes as she heard a groan and smack; in the process of being forced to his feet, Jaime had somehow managed to punch one of the soldiers and grabbed his sword. The moment Jaime pointed the sword out unsteadily in his left hand, Locke's men immediately backed away cautiously and quickly drew out their own swords. Brienne perked up in interest. She couldn't believe how pathetic the Bolton soldiers were; the Kingslayer was malnourished, weak, beaten, handless and could barely stand on his feet, and yet they were still taking no chances. His reputation was so legendary that it persisted, even when he was at his very worst.

Alas, it only took Jaime a few attempts at swinging the sword before Locke had him down on the ground. Jaime wriggled about in the mud, trying to reach again for the sword as the laughing soldiers approached him. It was this pitiful sight that made Brienne lose sight of all logic.

'STOP!' she shouted, and she leapt down from her horse.

She charged forward fiercely to help him, determined not to be stopped by a few tight ropes bound around her waist. The bemused soldiers came at her straight away, but she beat them back with the mere strength of her head and body, distracting them enough to give Jaime chance to scramble to his feet and pick up the sword again. His sword clashed against Locke's while Brienne kicked at his men and even threw one of them to the ground, but as she neared towards Jaime, two soldiers blocked her way and held their swords directly at her face. Breathing angrily, Brienne forced herself to stop and watched as Jaime desperately continued to keep upright and defend himself. She realised that she was actually rooting for this man – an enemy, her prisoner – to win this fight, even though she knew she shouldn't. It was hopeless. He was far too weak, and unsteady on his feet. He would most likely faint at any moment.

One of the soldiers thumped him back to the ground before this could happen. This time, Jaime was too exhausted and far too ill to get back up on his feet. Brienne watched disdainfully as Locke slowly walked up to the pitiful, broken man collapsed in the mud before him, before proceeding to kick him in the ribs. Horrified and angry, Brienne opened her mouth to protest, but one of the soldiers holding her back tilted his sword nearer towards her, so she was left to helplessly stand there while Jaime was beaten ferociously in the mud.

Once he had finished kicking him, Locke bent down to Jaime's level. 'Do that again,' he said in a low voice, 'and I'll take your other hand.'

The moment he stepped away from Jaime, Locke's soldiers grabbed Brienne and forced her back onto her horse. Jaime simply stayed lying there in the mud, his severed hand resting on his chest beside him, his eyes filled with tears as he looked up at the canopy of leaves above him. He was met with a strange desire to just stay there on the ground; it was actually quite comfortable here in the muck and dirt now he'd stopped being beaten. He could just go to sleep here and all his problems would just go away…

'He needs help, he's not well-'

Jaime's head jerked up and he frowned as he saw that Brienne was talking to Locke from her horse. She was scowling at last; the energetic excursion just now seemed to have knocked her back into her old self. Panicked, Jaime struggled to sit up.

'Do you think I give a shit?' Locke demanded furiously to Brienne.

'You should, if the name Tywin Lannister actually means anything to you,' Brienne snapped.

There was a tense silence. Jaime's eyes widened in horror; what the hell was she doing?! He sincerely hoped his gallant act from last night wasn't about to go to waste.

Locke's nostrils flared as he glared up at Brienne. 'Was that a threat?'

'It was a reminder of what's at stake here,' Brienne said firmly, as Jaime was forced up to his feet. 'The Kingslayer needs food and rest. We need to make camp early, ideally somewhere with a river nearby so he can wash and so I can clean his wound.'

'What the fucking hell makes you think I'd listen to anything you say?' Locke asked incredulously, as his men laughed along with him.

'Because you've charged me with keeping him alive until we get to Harrenhal. I can't do that if you keep treating him like this,' Brienne said scornfully, glaring back at him. 'At least if he does die, I'll have the full story for when his father demands to know what happened. Who do you think he'll believe more, drunken rapists working for Ramsey Bolton, or a highborn Lady from the Sapphire Isle?'

There was a pause, and Jaime felt his lips twitch slightly as they parted, stunned. Brienne had clearly learnt a thing or two from him in the short time they had known each other. He waited with baited breath as Locke considered her, looking like he very much wanted to beat her senseless into the mud as well. Jaime sincerely hoped he wouldn't; if he did, that only meant he would have to try and scramble around for another sword to help her, and he was finding it hard enough to stand upright as it was. He was in agony from the beating.

Eventually, Locke turned to address the other soldiers.

'We carry on as normal. We'll make camp when the sun sets,' he said loudly, and he turned back to give his hostages a dark glance. 'Then the lovers can get their…food and rest.'

As Jaime was forced up onto his horse, he exchanged a glance with Brienne and he knew they were both thinking the exactly same thing. Lovers. What a nauseating idea. Nevertheless, despite their repulsion at what Locke and his men kept implying for the rest of their journey that afternoon, they both knew that a begrudging yet solid bond had been established between them. It was a strange feeling, and one they didn't like to acknowledge. Even later that night when they made camp and Brienne was tasked once more with cleansing and nursing Jaime, neither of them wanted to admit that they were more or less on the same side now, mainly because of how infuriating that fact was.

Brienne offered Jaime an arm to lean on as she helped him away from the river, where he had washed most of the mud out of his face, and then they were both marched over to a separate campfire so Brienne could tend to his wound and the many bruises and scars he had acquired today from Locke's beating. The moment she had finished, they were both tied up and left sat opposite each other with a minimal amount of dry food to keep them going, although Jaime refused to touch his. Brienne watched him, still overwhelmed with bewilderment and shock over the recent events that had transpired, and she frowned as she took in the sight of him slouched there, barely conscious and staring into the fire with a blank expression on his beaten, scarred face. She felt sorry for him. He was hurting all over, that was evident. He'd completely lost the will to fight…or to do anything at all, it seemed.

'Eat,' Brienne ordered.

But Jaime ignored her. His frozen state of emptiness alarmed her, but not as much as her concern for him did. Was it indeed a smidgen of affection that she was beginning to feel for this awful man? He clearly couldn't cope with the loss of his hand dangling from the string around his neck, but why should she pity the Kingslayer for this? It confused her greatly.

'What are you doing?' she asked him.

'I'm dying,' Jaime replied, his voice low and weak as he refused to look up at her.

'You can't die. You need to live,' Brienne said quietly, 'to take revenge.'

Brienne was an honourable person, and very strongly devoted to any oath she made, but at this point all she could think about was how much she hated what Locke and his men had done to him. There was some good in the Kingslayer sat before her, she knew that after last night; it may only be miniscule, but it was something worth fighting for. Jaime didn't believe that, although he was somewhat touched by her words. For one fleeting moment, he wondered why he had ever considered fatally harming or running away from this woman. His welfare and pride seemed to matter to her more than it did him, which was saying something considering how openly she loathed him.

He shook his head. 'I don't care about revenge,' he muttered.

Brienne frowned at him, half-disappointed, half-exasperated. 'You coward,' she said disdainfully.

Too weak to move, Jaime squinted his eyes slightly, taken aback. He had been called a lot of things in his lifetime. Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. Man without honour. Those names haunted him wherever he went. But no one had ever called him a coward. Not ever.

'One misfortune and you're giving up?' Brienne went on witheringly.

Jaime could hardly believe what he was hearing. He suddenly wished he'd left her in those bushes after all.

'Misfor- misfortune?' he murmured, forcing his bloodshot eyes to look up at her.

'You lost your hand,' Brienne said, as if it were no big deal at all.

'My sword hand. I was that hand,' Jaime said in a broken voice.

But Brienne merely scoffed and looked away. Jaime stared at her in shock. All this time, he'd thought she was feeling sorry for him. He'd even perhaps hoped that she disliked him a little less than before. Apparently not.

Eventually, Brienne forced herself to look back up at him. 'You have a taste – one taste of the real world where people have important things taken from them and you whine and cry and quit,' she snapped, almost incensed, and Jaime glared back at her. 'You sound like a bloody woman.'

She spat the last words scornfully at him, and the look in her eyes made him look away, ashamed.

Brienne looked away bitterly; she was not proud of using a stereotype of her own gender like that, particularly when she had been mistreated all her life for failing to confirm to those standards, but it was the only way to get Jaime to react and come to life again. She needed to be harsh, to give this spoilt man the push he needed to go on.

Jaime felt a lump rise in his throat as he stared into the fire, her words resonating deeply with him. He could only imagine the hardships she must have undertaken throughout her life; she had clearly been invalidated and mocked for as long as she could remember, and yet she had always persisted, whatever life had thrown at her. For him, it had always been easy. But for Brienne, it had been completely the opposite, he could see that now, and yet she had never once given up.

He suddenly found himself beginning to admire her, even more so than when she had earned his respect defending them both against those Stark men not long after they'd left the Whispering Wood. He'd never imagined that he would learn to revere a woman like Brienne, but she was forcing him to confront his own hypocrisy and deprecation. As much as he hated her for it, her resilience was inspiring.

Suddenly realising how melodramatic he was being, Jaime struggled to lean forward slightly and grabbed a dry bit of bread that had been left for him. He grabbed it and forced some in his mouth. Brienne's gaze flickered between him and the fire, her expression softened somewhat. She was surprised her words had had any affect on him at all. As he continued to munch away bitterly at the dry bread, she realised she couldn't go on without addressing the rather large elephant in the room.

'I know what you did for me. You told them Tarth was full of sapphires,' Brienne said quietly, both of them refusing to look at each other. 'It's called 'the Sapphire Isle' because of the blue of its water. You knew that.'

Jaime said nothing as he discarded some of the crust of his bread. She looked up at him, but he was unable to meet her gaze.

'Why did you help me?' Brienne asked, utterly perplexed.

There was a pause as Jaime continued to stare into the fire. He groaned and repositioned himself against the log, trying to make himself more comfortable.

'I don't know. It felt like the right thing to do at the time,' he replied eventually, his voice slow but slightly clearer now that he'd had some food. 'You can only imagine how much I regret that now.'

Brienne couldn't tell if he was joking or not; he still wouldn't look at her. But still, she knew that couldn't be all it was. The expression on Jaime's face was telling enough. He swallowed and forced himself to meet her gaze; he knew she wouldn't let this go until he came out with it.

'When the Mad King was on the throne, I was made to guard the door while he raped numerous women. And I did nothing,' Jaime explained, his voice breaking on the last word. 'I couldn't do nothing again. No one deserves that. Not even someone as infuriating as you.'

There was a short silence. Brienne's lips had parted; she wasn't sure what she had expected, but it hadn't been that.

'Th-thank you,' she murmured in a small voice, her eyes on the ground.

There was a hint of a wry half-smile on Jaime's face as he considered her. 'What? You're shocked the legendary treacherous Kingslayer actually has a heart?' he muttered sourly.

Brienne watched him thoughtfully. 'Not as shocked as you are, it seems.'

Jaime's expression faltered; she had him there. He frowned as he noticed the bloody scratch on her face from where the soldiers had fought back against her when she had tried coming to his aid in the woods earlier today. He had been preoccupied with Locke and his other men at the time, but he had still seen the way she'd leapt down from her horse and ran over to him.

'What about you?' Jaime grumbled, reaching for the container to drink some water – they had both already checked that it wasn't full of horse piss this time. 'You helped me as well, earlier. Why?'

'I swore an oath to see you alive to King's Landing,' Brienne replied simply. 'I'm merely doing my duty.'

Jaime tilted his head at her, fascinated. 'Is that all life's about for you? Oaths and duty? No wonder you're so dull,' he muttered, and his last comment reassured him; he was slowly starting to feel like himself again.

But Brienne wasn't amused. 'Well I don't have much else,' she said.

Her tone made Jaime look up, and he looked almost saddened as he gazed at her. She was alone in this world, and all this time he had been mocking her for it. He was flummoxed by how subdued and ashamed this made him feel. Why did he spare a single thought for this woman anyway? She wasn't anything special to him, she was his captor. He'd tried to kill her just the other day. Although, deep down, Jaime couldn't help wondering whether he had actually ever intended to fatally harm her…or whether he'd just been bored and wanted to have some reckless fun by trying his luck with a female warrior. Now look where that had got them.

The next day got off to quite a good start, but as Locke continuously refused Jaime water and food and regular rest stops at Brienne's request, Jaime was soon feeling quite faint again. Brienne suspected that his hand had become infected, and that was why he was still so dizzy and pale, but Locke and his men rebuffed her requests for proper treatment from a maester. They weren't taking any detours, and were determined to reach Harrenhal in a matter of days. Brienne could only hope that Jaime would still be functioning properly by then and that it wouldn't be too late for his wound to receive proper treatment.

Each day passed agonisingly slowly, with only the jeers of Locke's men and the pain of his phantom hand to keep Jaime occupied as they rode on. On one day, after a weak Jaime fell once more from the saddle on his horse, they forced him to share a horse with Brienne and bound her tight to him. Unlike the first time this had happened upon their initial capture, neither of them seemed to mind much. Brienne was a warm anchor for him, keeping him upright on the horse, and also keeping him comforted and reassured with her proximity. They even conversed occasionally on matters other than his hand or her oath or Locke, and found common ground, while they rode together. Every evening, Brienne cared for his wound and redressed the stump, and as Jaime became accustomed to seeing this unusually nurturing side of her, he realised that Brienne of Tarth had somehow become the closest thing to a friend he had. She was the only one looking out for him, as much as she disliked him. The whole situation between them was extremely bizarre.

One evening, when they were approximately only one more days' ride away from Harrenhal, Brienne was about to stoke the fire in their own individual little camp not far away from Locke's men when Jaime spoke up, his voice gruff and croaky.

'Can you move?'

'Yes,' Brienne replied; the ropes they had bound her with weren't as tight now they knew she wasn't going to try and escape.

'Come. Sit with me.'

Brienne frowned, concerned. 'Is your hand troubling you?'

'What hand?' Jaime asked dryly, indicating his stump.

Brienne blinked rapidly, embarrassed. 'F-forgive me, I didn't mean-'

'I know what you meant. No, it's not. Just come and sit,' Jaime muttered grudgingly, indicating the patch of ground beside him.

Brienne did so, with a curious look on her face. One of Locke's men on watch nearby looked up suspiciously as they saw her manoeuvre her way around to Jaime, struggling slightly against the ropes, but then looked away with a chuckle and some snide comment about 'the lovers'. Brienne really wished they wouldn't call them that. It was enraging.

'Tell me about your family,' Jaime muttered once she had sat down, and Brienne looked at him, perplexed.

'I'm sorry?'

Jaime sighed exasperatedly. 'I'm in agony. I'm tired. I'm angry and bitter and wasting away. We both know I'm not going to last much longer unless there's a maester present at Harrenhal, so distract me. Tell me something. Anything.'

'There isn't anything to tell about my life that you would be interested in or remotely care about,' Brienne said dismissively.

'Is that really what you think of me, still?' Jaime demanded hoarsely, his expression angry all of a sudden. 'Look at my fucking arm and tell me again I don't remotely care.'

He was holding his stump up in her face. Brienne looked down, ashamed. She knew that, if he were any ordinary man, he would definitely not deserve her rude, scornful attitude, particularly after what he had done for her. But this wasn't any ordinary man. This was the Kingslayer. It was troubling her how much she had to keep reminding herself of that fact as the days went on.

Jaime sighed, regretting his waspish tone. He had to remember to try and force himself to be nice to her. It was a daunting prospect. He looked at her now, sat beside him in her loose tunic and trousers, and realised how much smaller she looked without the huge, bulky armour. She was still immensely tall, of course, but a lot slimmer and less broad-shouldered than he'd imagined somehow. She almost looked like she could have a woman's shape.

'Do you have siblings?' Jaime asked. 'You never answered me when I asked the day we met.'

Brienne frowned; why was that in any way important information? 'No, I…I'm an only child.'

'You're lucky. You only need have yourself to concern yourself with,' Jaime muttered enviously. 'Mark my words, if you had a brother or sister you'd put them before anything else, and your life would be ruined because of it.'

There was a short pause.

Brienne frowned at him. 'That doesn't sound healthy.'

'No, it probably isn't,' Jaime agreed, and he sighed wistfully. 'I'd do anything to get back to Cersei. It's the longest I've been without her. It's like a part of me is missing. I expect you wouldn't understand that feeling, would you?'

'Love? A little, I think,' Brienne said in a small voice, as if afraid to say it.

'Is it love, though, what I have with Cersei? I often wonder that,' Jaime said thoughtfully. 'It's wrong of course, and most people – you included – are disgusted by me for it. But even in spite of the…slight complication with her being my sister, even ignoring that, it…it doesn't feel normal. Sometimes I wish I could be free of her.'

'I…I wish I could be free of Renly as well,' Brienne murmured without thinking as she stared into the fire, and Jaime's lips parted in surprise. 'Even though he's long gone, I…I still think of him every day.'

Realising she had said too much, Brienne turned, mortified, to meet Jaime's sympathetic gaze as her cheeks turned red. She hadn't admitted to him explicitly of her feelings for Renly, even though he had teased her about it relentlessly for days on end. The layers that she had been hiding her true self under were slowly starting to peel away, it seemed. And Jaime was grateful for it. Finally he had someone real to talk to, not just a captor. It had been a very long time since someone had spoken to him openly about something personal. It had been a very long time since someone had simply just spoken to him as a real person, rather than a monstrous traitor.

'Perhaps one day the two of us will find peace, away from their hold on us,' Jaime suggested, though he had very little hope. 'Wouldn't that be nice?'

Brienne frowned then, realising too late that their conversation had crossed a boundary that was inappropriate. 'Why are you talking to me about this?' she muttered, looking away uncomfortably.

'I could ask you the same question,' Jaime said bemusedly. 'I am the Kingslayer, after all. I'm surprised you're even entertaining this conversation.'

'You asked me to come and sit with you!' Brienne reminded him, indignant.

'Only because I'm bored senseless. You know it's a depressing group for company when you're the one I'd choose out of everyone to talk to,' Jaime muttered sourly. 'You're dull as bricks, but at least I know you won't chop my other hand off.'

'Or so you think, Kingslayer,' Brienne snapped, sincerely wishing she hadn't moved to sit beside him now. 'You do realise if you hadn't stopped on that bridge and tried to kill me, none of this would have happened? We would be on our way to King's Landing and much closer to reaching your sweet sister, and you would still have your beloved sword hand.'

Hatred burned in his eyes at her mocking, scornful tone. She could be just as cruel as him sometimes.

'Yes. But then you and I would never have had the joy of fighting each other in combat, would we?' Jaime said dryly, his face too weak to grin.

Brienne scoffed, infuriated with him. 'Even now, after everything, you're still so stubborn that you refuse to accept the blame. You won't admit that your stupid mistake landed us in this mess. What would you have achieved anyway, if you had somehow managed to kill me on that bridge? I was taking you to King's Landing…which is where you wanted to go and where you still want to go now. What was the point?'

There was a pause. Jaime felt the shame rise in him, but knew there was no point in lying. He and Brienne seemed to have formed some unspoken pact to be honest with each other from now on since they had been taken captive by those brutes sat not too far away from them.

'Because I didn't want my family to see me delivered as a chained hostage by some…big grumpy woman who thought herself a knight,' he replied reluctantly, and Brienne felt her heart sink at his words. 'I didn't want to fail them or bring shame upon my house. I'm not weak – I'm a knight, I'm Jaime Lannister, I'm never beaten. That was the point. Are you happy now?'

Brienne glared at him, her nostrils flaring. 'You're pathetic,' she muttered disdainfully.

Jaime merely smiled. 'That might be one of the nicest things you've ever said to me, Brienne of Tarth.'

'Don't speak my name,' she snapped, and after a tense silence, she slid away from him and tried to struggle up to her feet, adjusting the ropes slightly as she did so. 'Well. I think I'll leave you to wallow in your self-pity now,' she spat.

'Where are you going?' Jaime asked, sounding almost personally offended.

'To try and get some sleep,' Brienne replied irritably as she shuffled over to sit by the other side of the fire.

'You really think I'm going to shut up and let you do that?'

'Why do you want me to stay awake?' Brienne demanded, bewildered. 'You said so yourself – I'm dull company, and we don't like each other! So leave me alone.'

Jaime sighed. 'Look, I'm sorry if I offended you, my lady, but you must know why I felt that way when I took your sword that day on the bridge. My reputation would be utterly ruined if a woman escorted me as a prisoner to King's Landing, my father and sister and everyone would never have-'

'Your reputation? You really care about that now, still?' Brienne said scathingly. 'You lost your hand and almost your life, and still all you're bothered about is that people see you as some 'great warrior'.'

Jaime frowned, annoyed by her tone. 'Well what do you care about. Your honour, I suppose?' he said, almost as if he were teasing her.

'Yes, my honour,' Brienne replied fiercely, cutting Jaime short. 'My oath to Lady Catelyn. My survival. I'm grateful for the small things in life and I know what's really important, Kingslayer. Perhaps you should learn to do the same. Now, will you let me get some rest?'

'Yes,' Jaime muttered begrudgingly.

'Good.'

There was a silence as she tried to get herself as comfortable as possible. Jaime sighed miserably. Brienne's rigid idea of honour was slowly drawing him back to the idea of the hopeful knight he had once aspired to become, long ago before his life had taken a dark and traumatic turn, and it was highly discombobulating for him. He didn't like how one person could change his ideals so much in merely a manner of days. She was taking advantage of his vulnerability. He was weak – that was why he was letting her qualities influence him. It wouldn't mean anything. It wouldn't change who he was. He would still be the same Jaime Lannister that Cersei knew and loved when he returned, and she would be none the wiser about what little impact Brienne had made on him. He would be certain of that.

'Goodnight,' Brienne said in a small, almost confused voice.

Jaime's lips twitched; she had never said that to him before. 'Sweet dreams.'

Brienne rolled her eyes and exhaled angrily as she turned over on her side to face away from him. She could feel his eyes on her as she tried to let her exhaustion take over. It was impossible to relax and therefore extremely hard to sleep with Locke and his men sat so nearby. These past few nights, she had simply laid awake staring at the stars while Jaime had whispered incessantly about the constellations above them, convincing himself that he was reassuring her – which, admittedly, he was – until he'd lost consciousness. But tonight she had to try and let herself drift off. She was so very tired, and she wished she didn't have to worry about what Locke's men might do to Jaime. She was no longer concerned about her own welfare; something told her they wouldn't bother trying anything with the Kingslayer sat near to her. They were so drunk and rowdy over by their campfire that they probably wouldn't bother coming over to this end of the clearing anyway; besides, they were bored with their hostages now. And so Brienne slowly allowed herself to drift off, comforted by the sounds of Jaime shuffling and sighing irritably near to her, until eventually she fell asleep at last.

That was the first night she dreamt of Jaime Lannister.

Chapter Text

~ Present Day  ~

The Unsullied were testing out the effectiveness of the trench and various catapults surrounding the perimeter of the castle and numerous soldiers were riding around erratically on their horses, but all Brienne could focus on was Podrick as he trained outside with one of the Northern squires. Their fight was entertaining to watch, but mainly because it made Brienne so pleased to see Pod's progress.

'Good. Yes, aim. Don't rush,' Pod was saying to his fighting companion as he adjusted the hold of his sword. 'Come forward. Come on.'

There was a look of pride on Brienne's face as she continued to watch him practice, but then she was distracted as she sensed someone approach to stand beside her. She knew who it was without even needing to look around, and her smile began to fade slightly. She wished he hadn't sneaked up on her like that; it had caught her completely off guard. She had been hoping to mentally prepare herself and plan what to say before this moment came. But here he was, stood beside her. Her heart began to race. She then realised that he was waiting for her to acknowledge him.

Brienne swallowed nervously as she inclined her head towards him. 'Ser Jaime,' she greeted politely, nodding.

Jaime practically bowed his head towards her as he tried not to smile at how formal she was being. 'Lady Brienne.'

He spoke her name softly – affectionately, even – and it only made Brienne more nervous as she turned back to watch Pod. The two of them were silent for a while as they watched Pod almost as if they were his proud parents. Neither of them knew what to say to each other. Jaime kept glancing sideways at Brienne, his one true and loyal friend, hardly daring to believe that he was really here with her, that after weeks of thinking about this moment he was finally at her side. Brienne remained solemnly silent as she tried but failed to concentrate on Pod, wondering what Jaime had left the confines of the castle for. Had he come over this way to find her specifically? Or had he just made a detour to be polite and acknowledge her before moving onto more important people here at Winterfell? Either way, whatever the reason, she had opened herself up to vulnerability by what she had done earlier, and she needed to put her guard back up. This was Jaime, after all. She didn't want him to make a fool out of her, and she certainly didn't want to end up pining after someone she couldn't have. She couldn't go through that again.

As the swords clashed violently before them, Jaime realised he could bear the awkward silence no longer.

'He's come a long way,' he said, pressing his arm briefly against Brienne's and sending tingles running through her body as he turned to face her.

Brienne nodded. 'He's all right,' she said, turning away from Jaime. 'Still has a lot to learn.'

Jaime wasn't sure if they were talking about Pod anymore. Brienne wasn't either.

Jaime was slightly disappointed. After her generous words of support for him in the great hall earlier, he had been hoping for a somewhat friendlier reunion between them. He wondered if she was trying to downplay what had happened in the trial now, if she was deliberately acting indifferent out of embarrassment. Knowing Brienne and her discomfort at expressing how she felt, it wouldn't surprise him. Or perhaps she was still bitter about the way he had spoken to her during their last meeting at the Dragonpit in King's Landing. This was fair enough, Jaime conceded; after all, he had been unforgivably rude. But now was the time to make amends for that.

'I'm sure you'll teach him,' Jaime said hopefully, following her as she began to walk through the campsite where the troops were preparing.

Brienne looked at him and frowned. Was that a compliment? She looked away again, confused, as she strode on through the field. Jaime hurried to keep up; his eagerness bewildered her.

'I've been told you're commanding the left flank,' he said keenly; he had asked about her not long after his trial when briefly discussing military tactics with Jon Snow.

'I am,' Brienne replied as they walked on. 'It's, uh…it's good ground.'

'It is,' Jaime agreed, unable to take his eyes off her.

Why does he keep agreeing with me? What the hell is he playing at?

Brienne was disconcerted by how kind and unsure he was being. For someone who had initially been so cruel and unrefined and coarse towards her, Jaime's tentative behaviour now was almost sweet. It made Brienne wonder if perhaps this side of him had always been there, but she just hadn't noticed it before because she hadn't been able to see him as anything but the Kingslayer. She had wondered this often when reflecting on their intense time together forced in each other's company all those years ago.

'The rise – it should give us some advantage,' Brienne explained, pointing at the field ahead as they came to a halt. 'If we can keep a tight formation, we might be able to beat them back.'

Jaime exhaled deeply as he nodded, impressed. 'Yes,' he replied, 'I think you're right.'

At this, Brienne had had enough. She rounded on him.

'What are you doing?' she demanded, frowning at him.

'What?' Jaime asked innocently, perplexed by the accusing, almost distrustful look in her eyes.

'I think you know,' Brienne said, aggravated.

She needed to know why he was being like this and what the hell he was doing here. She needed to know why. She was too scared to hope or believe anything unless the words came from his lips. Shocked by her abrupt reaction, Jaime stared at her in bewilderment. He hadn't seen this coming at all.

'I truly don't,' Jaime insisted.

'We have never had a conversation last this long without you insulting me. Not once,' Brienne said shortly.

Jaime was riled, not the least because he knew her statement wasn't quite true. 'You want me to insult you?' he said incredulously, scowling at her.

'No!' Brienne said sharply at once, embarrassed.

'Good!' Jaime snapped, turning away agitatedly before looking back up at her, exhaling deeply.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them as they both drowned in their frustration and longing. Mortified, Brienne kept her face turned away slightly so that he couldn't see that she was blushing. She had been unprepared for such a change in him, and it was unsettling.

Jaime looked back up at the field, infuriated with himself. And with her, of course. Ah, how he had missed the bickering. Locke and his men had often said the two of them were like an old married couple, constantly arguing and bantering and exchanging snide quips back and forth. Jaime wondered why Brienne was making this so difficult, why she had put her walls up so high after everything she had said about him at the trial, but then he supposed it made sense for her to be suspicious of the lack of teasing on his part. She wasn't used to this side of him. Then again, neither was he.

From nearby, Pod glanced warily over at Brienne as he swapped fighting partners. She and Ser Jaime were stood determinedly not looking at each other, clearly in the midst of an argument. Even though he wasn't stood with them, Pod could practically taste the sexual tension in the air. Years of suppressed feelings had led to this and culminated in one big awkward mess, because of course neither Jaime nor Brienne had any idea how to deal with or express those feelings.

Brienne was extremely distrustful; she had been constantly mocked and mistreated for her manly appearance all her life, and her only experience of love had been the unrequited kind. She certainly would never expect someone as handsome or legendary as Jaime Lannister to ever reciprocate her attraction. Jaime, on the other hand, only had the experience of a toxic, abusive romantic relationship with his sister, one that had completely consumed him, and now that he had finally broken free from that, he was completely at a loss with how normal relationships were meant to work. This was all completely new, for both them.

Swallowing nervously, Jaime bent his head low and stared at the ground, twitching and hovering like a nervous animal in the line of fire. He didn't know where to begin. He opened his mouth to speak as he adjusted his footing, but no sound came out and he closed it again. Brienne watched him warily in her peripheral vision. What was going on? It was as if all his confidence and ego had completely disappeared. Instead he was fidgeting anxiously beside her like a scared little boy. She might have perhaps laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, if it weren't for her thudding heartbeat and trembling fear, and instead she found herself fantasizing about what could possibly be racing through his mind in this very moment.

Keeping his eyes firmly on the ground, Jaime then took a deep breath. 'I came to Winterfell because…'

He paused, interrupting himself before he could verbally express the realisation that had only just truly hit him. Brienne stared at him, alarmed. His silence was almost more telling than the words left unsaid. The words they both knew he wanted to say but was too afraid to.

Jaime forced himself to look up and meet her bewildered gaze. He needed her to know that he would walk through fire for her, that he would try to tackle every White Walker single-handedly, that he would do anything just to be by her side, to fix the damage he had done ever since he'd made the mistake of not leaving King's Landing with her to find Sansa when he'd had the chance, to make her see that she was the reason that kept him going and that had brought him here to this very spot. But, of course, he couldn't say that. He couldn't say any of it. His walls were coming down, and he was opening himself up to the very real possibility that he could be falling in love with someone else, but it terrified him. He didn't deserve Brienne. He wasn't even sure if she felt the same way. How could he risk potentially ruining such a close friendship with this wonderful woman?

But then he took in Brienne's confused expression and read the hope barely concealed in her earnest gaze and in the parting of her lips. He tilted his head at her, his eyes indignant, wordlessly telling her: you know why I came here.

Jaime took a hesitant step towards her. 'I'm not the fighter I used to be,' he said heavily, stunning Brienne even more. 'But I'd be honoured to serve under your command, if you'll have me.'

Brienne merely continued to stare at him, seemingly frozen in a state of shock. Part of her waited for him to start laughing and yet the other part of her somehow knew, from the sincerity in his voice and gaze, that he meant it.

There was a silence as they both gazed in wonder at each other, the monumental nature of the words he had just said sinking into both their minds. Jaime had never humbled himself to offer his service to someone who wasn't a Lannister before, but Brienne was the one person he respected and admired the most. She was the only one he would want to follow to the very end, because he believed in her and the great warrior she had become. And now he knew the time had finally come for him to let his guard down and to express his truth to Brienne for once: that he wanted to be close to her when they faced death. That was all that really mattered to him.

In the moments that passed after Jaime had made his declaration, he couldn't help wondering if Brienne was all right; she was completely still and silent, the only part of her moving being her eyes as they desperately searched his to confirm that he was indeed being serious.

After a long hesitation, Brienne gave a slow nod, blinking rapidly and still rather dazed as she did so.

Jaime simply gazed back at her. He could see just how taken aback Brienne was by his open validation of her, but he had no idea of the whirlwind of emotions racing through her mind.

She had long resigned herself to the fact that Jaime was simply going to be another Renly in her life; a man she was devoted to, and yet unworthy of. But now Jaime was being emotionally vulnerable towards her and gazing at her in a way that Renly, nor any other man, had ever done. And it touched her greatly, but it also alarmed her to the point of fear. This was unknown territory, after all. How could she know for certain what it was Jaime was trying to tell her with his eyes? What if she was misreading the signs? What if he just didn't see her in that way at all? It only made it harder for her to cope with, particularly now he was being kind and supportive towards her…and had said he wanted to be with her during the battle.

Brienne swallowed nervously; Jaime still hadn't taken his eyes off her. It was unnerving. She wanted so dearly to say something to express her gratitude towards him, or just how pleased she was that he was here with her, but she couldn't find the words. She was still too stunned to process what he had just said to her.

'I'd better get back,' she murmured instead, a lump in her throat as she slowly turned around.

Jaime nodded, disappointed but not altogether surprised that she hadn't said anything more, and he took a step back with a bow of his head to allow room for her to walk away. Where she was going 'back' to, he had no idea, as she was walking in the opposite direction that they'd come in, but he strongly suspected that she just needed to escape. He understood completely; he too wasn't that well equipped at dealing with emotions that were boiling all too closely to the surface.

He watched her leave with a longing expression on his face, confused by the strength and veracity of his burgeoning feelings for this extraordinary woman. Jaime knew there were more things he wanted to say to her but that he just couldn't; she was already walking away, and he couldn't stop her. He looked down at the ground, breathing deeply and lost in deep thought over how that conversation could have gone differently, and gazed back up at her tall figure striding off into the distance.

Jaime didn't expect anything to come of his feelings, of course he didn't; he knew she was too honourable and good to want a scoundrel like him, even if he had suspected her being attracted to him during her brief time staying at the Red Keep around the time of Joffrey's death. He was simply wasting time in daring to hope that Brienne could grow to care for him in the way he did her. She would most likely be repulsed if he confessed to her just how much he adored her, how his heart burned for her. She would never be able to return his affection, and he didn't blame her; he was not worthy of her. If there was any man lucky enough to capture her heart, it would need to be someone ten times the man he was. She deserved only the best. He knew that, and yet it didn't stop him pining after her. It didn't stop him hoping that her gaze and her nervousness had meant something more. It didn't stop him wondering what it could be like, if he were to tell her how he felt and if the two of them were to start something wonderful and new together.

But it was pointless for him to fantasize about such matters; after all, he saw himself as unworthy and inferior to her, in every sense, although this was a prospect that would have made the old Jaime roar with laughter. Both Jaime and Brienne knew that pledging to serve under her, let alone harbour strong romantic feelings for her, was something that Jaime would never have done or felt all those years ago when they had first met. To Jaime's shame, he could still vividly remember the disdain and revulsion he had inexplicably felt towards her on their first day together once Lady Catelyn had set him free; feelings he knew Brienne had reciprocated.

How things had changed since then.

* * *

Jaime cursed as he was thrown from the horse onto the forest ground. His body ached all over, his wrists seemingly permanently damaged from the iron manacles that had been fixed around them for over a year, and his face seared in agony from the pain of the bloody scratches and scars that had befallen him courtesy of those charming Northern men back at Robb Stark's camp. He blinked rapidly as the hood was yanked from his head, the sunlight blinding him. It took a few moments for his eyes to focus on what he was seeing, and he frowned in repulsion at his captor, half-fascinated, half-horrified.

He could hardly believe that thing was really a woman; she was a great lumbering beast, dressed in a suit of large, heavy armour. Even with him slouched on the ground, Jaime could tell she was taller than him. She was scowling down at the ground, the miserable wench she was. She looked absolutely ridiculous. The very idea that Lady Catelyn thought this woman capable of holding him hostage amused Jaime greatly.

'You're much uglier in daylight,' Jaime said, running his eyes over her face bewilderedly; he had never seen a woman like her before.

Brienne ignored him, as she always did on the regular occasions men said such scornful things. She wasn't exactly overjoyed with the new quest Lady Catelyn had set her on – being forced into one-on-one company with the disgraceful Kingslayer wasn't her idea of serving her lady the best way she could – but nevertheless she respected Catelyn's decision, even if it had been risking treason with her son. An exchange of hostages was the only way to get Lady Catelyn's daughters back, and Brienne understood how important it was to free the Stark girls from the evil clutches of House Lannister.

She cast Jaime Lannister a dark glance; even dressed in rags and covered in scars and a scruffy beard and dirty, messy hair, he was still as gloriously handsome as she had heard. It made her despise him even more. This pitiful excuse of a man, this monstrous traitor, has besmirched a role that she had long idealized. He had disgraced what it meant to be a knight, something she had always dreamed to become and yet never would be, and she knew she would never be able to see eye-to-eye with this repulsive prisoner of hers. Honour clearly meant nothing to this man.

She seized the Kingslayer roughly by the arm, as he was too weak from being chained up all this time to stand on his own, and pulled him up to his feet.

'What's your name?' Jaime asked, but still Brienne ignored him and turned him around; he went on, unperturbed. 'I'm Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock, son of Tywin.'

Brienne remained determinedly silent as she marched him on. Her hand was strong and tough as she forced him forward through the trees.

Jaime cast her an amused glance. 'A captive knight has a right to know his captor's identity,' he said indignantly.

There was a short pause.

'Brienne of Tarth,' Brienne replied reluctantly without looking at him, her voice short and cold.

Jaime looked up thoughtfully. 'Tarth, Tarth, Tarth. Crescent moons and starbursts. Lord…Selwyn Tarth,' he said, intrigued, as he turned around to look at her; she simply jabbed him in the back to make him face forward as they walked on. 'Your father. Do you have any…brothers and sisters, my lady?'

He turned back to her hopefully, but she simply pushed him forward as she scowled grumpily down at the ground. It was infuriating; had she no idea how bored he had been, imprisoned for all these months? He'd had hardly anyone to talk to the whole time. She could at least try and entertain him – although in all fairness her stupid get-up in that armour was enjoyable enough.

'It's a long way to King's Landing. Might as well get to know one another,' Jaime said slyly, his tone almost suggestive as she pushed him down the path towards the bank of a river. 'Have you known many men? I suppose not. Women? Horses?'

His teasing grin disappeared instantly as Brienne shoved him down to the ground, and he yelped out in pain. He was surprised by her strength – clearly, her looks weren't misleading. They had come to a halt beside a small boat waiting on the river bank. Brienne peered out from around the bushes cautiously to check the coast was clear, too exasperated with this irritating man to bother with what he was saying; after all, she had trained herself to tune off from everyone's insults long ago.

'I didn't mean to give offense, my lady. Forgive me,' Jaime said begrudgingly, and he meant it; he did not want to get on the wrong side of this sullen oaf if she was to be his unfortunate sole travelling companion for the next few months.

Brienne spoke before she could help herself. 'Your crimes are past forgiveness, Kingslayer,' she said in a low, spiteful voice.

She practically spat the last word, and for some reason Jaime took it to heart, more so than any of the other times he had been slapped in the face with that nickname since his capture at the Whispering Wood. This miserable cow didn't even know him. She'd only just met him properly today.

'Why do you hate me so much? Have I ever harmed you?' Jaime asked her bitterly, feeling slightly incredulous as they both watched a wagon cross the bridge on the other side of the river.

He could feel his weariness and irritation getting the better of him as Brienne's hold on him tightened uncomfortably. He'd spent over a year entire year in captivity, surrounded by enemies who openly loathed him. And he was exhausted by it.

'You've harmed others. Those you've sworn to protect,' Brienne muttered.

Jaime sighed wearily, a heavy sunken feeling in the pit of his stomach, as she reminded him of the vows he had valued so dearly on the day he had been knighted, back when he'd thought life was simple and pure. He was exasperated; this 'woman' was naïve and idealistic and judgemental as well as unsightly and irritable and just a plain embarrassment. Perfect.

'The weak…' Brienne went on, 'the innocent…-'

'Has anyone ever told you you're as boring as you are ugly?' Jaime said, his voice harsh and cutting.

Brienne grabbed him by the arms and hoisted him up, hurt. 'You will not provoke me to anger!' she snapped furiously, as she marched him away from the boat.

'I already have! Look at you!' Jaime pointed out, trying not to laugh at the stony expression on her face as she left him over in the corner so she could tend to the boat. 'You're ready to chop my head off. Do you think you could? Do you think you could beat me in a fair fight?'

'I've never seen you fight,' Brienne replied, maddened by him, as she dragged the boat across the bank to set it up.

'The answer is no. There are three men in the kingdoms who might have a chance against me. You're not one of them,' Jaime said with a chuckle, watching her derisively.

But, to his surprise, Brienne didn't seem bothered by his words. 'All my life men like you have sneered at me,' she said, pushing the boat out onto the water, 'and all my life I've been knocking men like you into the dust.'

'If you're so confident, unlock my chains – let's see what happens!' Jaime suggested tantalisingly, taking a few steps towards her.

Brienne sighed exasperatedly as she held the boat still. 'Do you take me for an idiot? In!' she ordered, pointing at the boat.

Jaime obeyed her without hesitation – she had the sort of commanding tone and presence that made him realise it would be unwise to protest, not to mention that scarily hostile expression of hers.

He sighed in disappointment as he stepped into the boat. 'I took you for a fighter,' he said contemptuously, sitting down. 'A man – pardon – woman of honour. Was I wrong?'

He tilted his head at her, fascinated, as Brienne struggled to maintain a correct balance in the boat as she too stepped in.

'You're afraid,' Jaime said.

Brienne gave him a smug look. 'Maybe one day we'll find out, Kingslayer,' she said, the briefest of fake smiles flashing on her face as she cast him a disdainful look, and with that she grabbed the oar in the boat and they set off down the river.

Jaime's lips twitched, intrigued by her confidence in her own supposed fighting abilities, but he couldn't help feeling a little bit stung at her use of his nickname again.

He had developed a way of coping with his broken reputation his entire adulthood thus far at King's Landing; he had hid behind his sarcasm, his sense of superiority, his keen talent at sneering down at all those who worshipped the concept of 'honour', his addictive thrill of being with Cersei. He was the golden lion of House Lannister, after all. What did he care what others thought? But he had relied on those things too much, and they had crumbled away since his imprisonment, leaving him with no coping mechanism. Leaving him with nothing. He had his pride, but he also had his insecurities, and he'd had no shields to hide behind since his capture at the Whispering Wood. His captivity had been the longest time he'd had to deal with the world's open, unmitigated contempt of him, and now he was slowly discovering that he could no longer keep up the pretence. He could no longer turn a deaf ear to everyone who whispered 'Kingslayer' behind his back.

And that meant he could certainly never respect or even remotely like someone who called him 'Kingslayer' to his face. Who did this brutish Brienne of Tarth even think she was anyway? She was no knight – she wasn't even close. She was a nobody. And she didn't know the facts. Well, no one did, not really. And no one ever would. Regardless, Brienne didn't know him but she was stupid enough to think she knew better. And for that, along with her comical appearance, Jaime was as repulsed by her almost as much as she was repulsed by him. Almost.

Brienne frowned darkly over at Jaime as they sailed on down the river, pleased that he had fallen into an irritable silence while his eyes flickered between watching her with a sly glare and gazing wistfully over at the trees of the forest surrounding them. She sighed, trying to conceal her bitterness at this unfortunate situation. She had been thrust into close proximity with a rude, dishonourable man who was clearly determined to incite her for the entire duration of their journey. This was going to be unbearable. But she would bear it, for Lady Catelyn. He couldn't do anything while locked in those chains, after all; only his stupid words could harm her, and she would not let them. The two of them would reach King's Landing eventually, and then she would hand him over and they would part ways, never to be forced to look upon each other's faces again, and she would be fine. All she had to do was cope with his incessant insults and arrogant quips, and then it would be over. Besides, it wouldn't take them that long to reach their destination – three months, at most. What damage could a man as pathetic as Jaime Lannister do in three months?

* * *

~ Present Day ~

Brienne was still in a daze as she walked around the grounds of the castle to test the effectiveness of the traps that had been set up. She knew the look in Jaime's eyes as he'd pledged his service to her would stay forever ingrained in her memory. His words were still ringing in her ears.

'I came to Winterfell because…'

Because what? Why hadn't he been able to finish the sentence and say what she had long felt but never dared to hope could possibly be true?

The bizarreness of their whole interaction earlier stunned her. He had told her what he had never told anyone before, not even himself; that his fighting skills were no longer the ones of legendary Ser Jaime Lannister, the golden lion. And she knew he was right. His ability as a warrior had diminished considerably and his golden hand was in no way efficient when it came down to fighting these undead creatures. The fact that he was now humble enough to admit this to her ought to have made Brienne touched, she knew that, but instead all she could feel was fear. Even the best of the fighters in their prime didn't stand much of a chance against the Army of the Dead. So how would Jaime fair in this battle?

'Are you all right, milady?'

Brienne jumped out of her reverie; Pod had appeared around the corner, looking slightly beaten, but the way that he was holding his head proudly told Brienne that he had emerged a champion from his sword-fighting practice sessions amongst the other squires. He was giving Brienne an enquiring look, with an almost bemused smile on his face. She realised that she probably looked as astonished as she still felt, and there was no point in pretending otherwise with Pod; he could read her like a book.

'I think Jaime Lannister asked to serve under my command,' Brienne said slowly. Even saying it aloud seemed odd.

Pod's smile grew; clearly, he wasn't surprised. 'Well, he would never serve under anyone else but you,' he said fondly.

'Oh, don't be ridiculous,' Brienne muttered dismissively, turning away so he couldn't see the twitch of her lips as the two friends walked on back towards the castle courtyard.

'I'm not. I'm not blind – i-if you don't mind me saying so, milady,' Pod added hastily, looking slightly flustered as Brienne shot him with a sharp look. 'He's ready to die with you in this battle, whenever it will be.'

'H-he's not dying,' Brienne said irritably, rolling her eyes. 'None of us are dying in the battle.'

Pod frowned. It wasn't like Brienne to talk that way. He knew then just how afraid she must be. Not particularly for her life, but more for Jaime's. He came to a halt; she stopped walking as well, confused, and he gave her a sympathetic look.

'You don't know that, milady. I don't, and Ser Jaime certainly doesn't. But he's ready to give his life fighting for you anyway. You were right, milady,' Pod said, and he smiled again. 'He is an honourable man, like you always told me.'

Brienne felt the warmth flood through her as she put a hand on Pod's shoulder gratefully. It meant so much to her that Pod had said that, that he could see the goodness in Jaime. But before she could say anything, there was the sound of a horn blowing from the Winterfell courtyard – visitors had arrived.

It didn't take long for Brienne to find out who the newcomers were. Or the terrible news that they brought with them.

She didn't realise she was looking for Jaime until she caught sight of him around the corner at the other side of the courtyard. The fact that the battle against the undead would now be happening in a matters of hours rather than days seemed to have knocked some perspective into her. She couldn't just run away from Jaime because she was too scared to confront her feelings. She had to stop running away. She had to embrace it instead. Or else it would be too late.

Swallowing slightly, Brienne tentatively began to walk up to Jaime, stood by the stairwell to the battlements. Just the mere sight of Jaime alone would have sent Brienne's heart racing as usual anyway, but she was perplexed to see that he was now stood with one of the smallfolk children, and (even more bizarrely) Jon Snow's direwolf, Ghost. From what Brienne could make out as she slowly approached, Ghost seemed to have given the child a fright, and Jaime was trying to comfort her. Of course he was.

'There. He's all right, really,' Jaime was saying, stroking Ghost's fur as if it was no big deal. 'He just looks a bit scary.'

'Is he going to fight when the war comes?' the little girl asked nervously.

Jaime frowned as he tilted his head thoughtfully at the direwolf. 'I-I'm not sure. Possibly.'

'Are you?'

'I am,' Jaime replied, his tone proud.

The girl looked down miserably. 'My father is too.'

'But your mother will be safe in the crypt with you, won't she? So you'll be all right. She'll protect you,' Jaime said reassuringly, bending down so that he was on her eye level.

Brienne's lips parted. Who was this man?

'Yes. But I don't want Father to die,' the little girl mumbled, and Jaime's face fell slightly.

'Of course not. I'll pray to the gods for you that he'll live,' he said in a soothing voice.

The little girl smiled. 'So will I. And I'll pray for you too.'

A lump formed in Jaime's throat as he took in the little girl's earnest expression. 'Thank you,' he murmured, his voice breaking.

He hadn't even noticed that Brienne was stood close by, watching in awe. He'd suddenly been struck with the thought of Myrcella, of those blissful moments with her before she had collapsed to her death in his arms…

'I'm glad that you're my father…'

Jaime blinked away the tears and smiled warmly at the little girl before him. How he wished he could have been a father. A good father.

Before he could say anything else, a woman who evidently was the little girl's mother came rushing up to them. She looked more horrified that her daughter was in the company of Jaime Lannister rather than a direwolf; indeed, it was with harsh mutterings about the 'Kingslayer' that she grabbed her daughter's hand and dragged her away. A sad expression on his face, Jaime gave the girl a feeble wave with his golden hand but then froze as he noticed Brienne stood there watching him. He scrambled up to his feet at once, though stumbled slightly in his haste to get up and ended up having to put his hand on Ghost to stop himself from falling. Luckily, the direwolf didn't seem to mind.

Brienne fought back a smile as he flushed red. 'Ser Jaime,' she greeted, nodding at him.

She almost wished that distrusting mother hadn't interrupted her daughter and Jaime. Brienne had never seen him like that around a child before. It made her feel things she hadn't known she was capable of feeling.

Jaime rolled his eyes at her. 'Are we really doing this?'

There was a pause as Brienne stared at him, her heart skipping a beat.

'What will it take for you to drop the bloody title?' he said exasperatedly, and Brienne sighed in relief. 'No 'Ser', please.'

'It…it's habit, I'm afraid,' Brienne admitted.

'Well it's maddening.'

Her lips twitched slightly. She took a few steps closer and they both looked down as Ghost whined for attention. Jaime began to stroke him again with his left hand.

Brienne frowned, mystified. 'I didn't know you liked direwolves.'

'I didn't like them…before,' Jaime replied, seeming surprised himself. 'But…they're just like dogs, really, aren't they? This one's very trusting of strangers.'

'Well…actually, he isn't. It normally takes him a number of days to let anyone new near him,' Brienne said, and Jaime gave her a questioning look. 'Pod looked after him while Jon Snow was away at Dragonstone, so I…know him quite well.'

'What's his name?'

'Ghost.'

'He's nice.'

Brienne leant down slightly to stroke Ghost as well, but as she did so her little finger accidentally brushed against Jaime's on the fur. She removed her hand from Ghost at once, flustered, and a slight smile formed at one end of Jaime's lips, though they both determinedly avoided each other's gaze.

Jaime then cleared his throat nervously. 'So…I was thinking perhaps tomorrow you could talk me through the battle plan, for when the time comes. And then perhaps…we could maybe…' But then he trailed off as he noticed the crestfallen expression on Brienne's face. 'What is it?'

'The time has already come,' she replied in a quiet voice, as they both straightened up. 'Jon Snow's friends from the Wall arrived just now.'

Jaime sighed heavily. 'And I'm taking it they didn't bring good news?'

Brienne nodded. 'The Last Hearth has fallen. Anyone who hasn't reached Winterfell by now are part of the Army of the Dead.'

'So…they will be here soon?'

'Before daybreak, they say.'

'Daybreak?' His voice shook slightly. Night was already beginning to fall.

Brienne hesitated as she took in his anguished expression. 'There's still time for you to leave,' she said, taking a step closer to him and lowering her voice as she glanced anxiously around the courtyard; thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed them in the corner. 'If you want to go back, if you've changed your mind, I can cover for-'

'Is that what you think of me?' Jaime interrupted in a sharp tone, frowning at her. He was hurt.

'No, it's not,' Brienne reassured him. 'I just wanted you to know the choice was there.'

'I made my choice,' Jaime said firmly. 'I don't regret coming here. I gave my word, and I'm here to fulfil it. I just…' He fell silent, unable to find the words.

'What?' Brienne prompted, and his eyes gazed into hers in dismay.

'I just thought we would have more time.'

His voice was quiet, almost soft, when he said it. It stunned Brienne; she'd never heard him speak with such tenderness, apart from perhaps the time he'd tried to comfort her following the news of Lady Catelyn's demise at the Red Wedding.

She wondered if he meant what she thought he meant. What she so dearly hoped he meant.

Brienne exhaled deeply. 'So did I.'

A short silence fell between them as they simply looked at each other, but then the spell was broken when Ghost began to howl beside them at the sight of a goat trotting past across the other side of the courtyard, and he bounded off eagerly. Brienne swallowed nervously as she looked around at the soldiers all making their final preparations.

'There's to be a meeting of the war council in an hour,' she said.

Jaime nodded heavily. 'Well let me know what they say. I'd like to be aware of what the strategy is,' he said, and Brienne frowned at him.

'You mean, you won't attend?'

Jaime gave her a sceptical look. 'They won't let me in that meeting, none of them trust me.'

'I trust you. And that means Lady Sansa does as well,' Brienne said earnestly, causing Jaime to blink rapidly. 'You're a valuable soldier, and you have a keen military mind. You'll be of good use.'

Jaime gazed at her for a moment then shook his head exasperatedly at her, a fond expression on his face. 'You've always been too kind to me, Brienne.'

'Not always,' Brienne muttered, looking away slightly; his expression was too much for her.

'No,' Jaime agreed, amused. 'Perhaps not always.'

It wasn't long after when Brienne took Jaime with her to the gathering inside the castle, led by Jon Snow. There were a few raised eyebrows when Jaime entered the room, but no one said anything about his presence there; the look on Brienne's face and the way she was stood beside him clearly told everyone that there was no point in protesting. And so there he was, Jaime Lannister helping devise battle plans with the Starks and a Targaryen and countless others, in a room he'd never have thought he would find himself in, all because of the fierce woman beside him who he knew would defend his every move. Despite the impending sense of doom, Jaime felt a real sense of achievement as they worked through the strategy together as a group. He was doing something right for once. He was doing something good, he was helping a greater cause. And it felt wonderful.

It became evident during the sombre discussion that, despite the weapons of dragonglass and Valyrian steel, and the defences they had laid, the Army of the Dead outnumbered the living too heavily for them to have a chance at winning the upcoming battle. The only hope they had was targeting the Night King; if they killed him, then his army would die with him. With some persuasion from Bran, it was agreed that Bran would act as bait in the Godswood to lure the Night King, who wished to kill him, while Jon and Daenerys planned to ambush the Night King with dragonfire when he revealed himself. Jaime, Brienne and the rest of the soldiers would be left to try and hold off the White Walkers from entering the castle grounds for as long as they could.

Jaime realised that this was essentially a suicide mission, but with a glance at the tall woman beside him, her face unafraid and determined, he knew that he would do whatever it took to make sure Brienne got through this battle alive. She had to make it. He couldn't bear it if she didn't survive. His priority was her as much as it was defending the castle. Perhaps even more so.

Whatever happens, Brienne must live, Jaime thought desperately. She must live.

Chapter Text

The war council meeting disassembled awkwardly with the meek suggestion that everyone should 'get some rest'. But neither Jaime nor Brienne felt like they could rest. The White Walkers were almost upon them. This time tomorrow, they might all be dead. How could they rest now, knowing that might be the case? They couldn't waste any more time.

As they walked together down the dark castle corridor, Jaime took a deep breath. 'I'm quite hungry, aren't you?' he asked Brienne.

Brienne slowed her walking pace as she averted her gaze, frowning curiously. 'I suppose so, yes,' she replied unsurely.

'Shall we…would you like to…?' But Jaime trailed off nervously, and began fidgeting on the spot.

Brienne stared at him. It took her a while to fully comprehend what he was trying to ask.

'They're serving soup outside in the courtyard,' she suggested eventually, flustered.

'Soup. Perfect,' Jaime said at once, relieved. 'That is, if you don't mind me accompanying you?'

'N-no, I don't mind,' Brienne said, gazing at him in bewilderment.

The awkward pair made their way out of the castle and into the courtyard, where people were lining up for food. The sky was a pitch black now, the air bitterly cold against their cheeks. Jaime shivered as they waited to be served; he wasn't used to these piercing temperatures. He hated it.

Once they had collected their bowls of soup, Jaime and Brienne made their way over to the corner of the courtyard, where they sat on some steps, away from the prying eyes and the dirty looks and the not-so-subtle insults being muttered about Jaime. They were comfortably silent for a while as they ate, simply glad to be in each other's company on what they both knew would turn out to be the longest, and most probably the last, night of their lives.

'You know, this soup's not half bad,' Jaime said, taking another mouthful. 'Better than that shit they fed us when we were held up with Locke, do you remember?'

Brienne raised her eyebrows. 'It's hard to forget. I'm surprised they didn't make us eat actual shit, to be honest,' she muttered.

'Ah, you're right there. Weren't we the lucky ones?' he said dryly, and he sighed wistfully as he looked at her. 'Thank the gods you were there with me. As sorry as I am that you were.'

Brienne looked at him. There was a tender look in his eyes, an almost fond smile half-formed on his lips. It was a look that almost made the rest of the courtyard and the people around them disappear.

'I wouldn't have survived then without you, you know. It's funny that, isn't it?' Jaime said.

He wasn't sure why he said that; it wasn't funny at all…it was just easier to make light of it, for both their sakes. They were both so bad at dealing with emotions, after all. He truly believed what he said, though. No one else would have looked after him during those dark days of his life the way she did. Not even Cersei.

'I'm not the one who jumped into a bear pit unarmed and with one hand,' Brienne said, and Jaime looked at her in surprise; they exchanged an amused look before turning back to their soup.

As Jaime scooped up the remaining soup with his spoon, he cleared his throat nervously. 'I owe you – well, many things – but firstly I owe you an apology, for the way I spoke to you at the Dragonpit.'

Brienne looked mortified. 'You really don't need to-'

'But I do,' Jaime insisted, and he sighed sadly.

Brienne shook her head at him in amazement. 'What's happened to you?' she said, flummoxed.

Jaime frowned, confused. 'What do you mean?'

'Why are you being so…nice?' She said the word as if she was almost disgusted by it.

'I've always been nice,' Jaime said indignantly, but he faltered when he caught sight of the unimpressed scowl that he loved so much on Brienne's face, and he grimaced. 'Deep down.'

Brienne fought back a smile. Something that sounded almost like a chuckle escaped her lips as she turned away. He had never seen her laugh before, not ever, despite his many efforts to try and amuse her during their time together while she had stayed at King's Landing. They had very rarely been in situations like this when they were carefree and alone and simply talking with no spies watching them. Not that they were completely carefree now; this was simply the calm before the storm.

Jaime chuckled. 'You don't know what to make of me, do you?'

'No I don't,' Brienne admitted, and she glanced at him tentatively as she put down her empty soup bowl. 'I still can't believe you're actually here.'

'Well I am. Just in time, as well. And that's good…isn't it?' Jaime said in a hopeful tone, watching her closely.

'Yes, it is. I…never thought I'd see you again,' Brienne murmured, staring at her hands as she tried to keep her breathing steady.

'Well I'm not going anywhere,' Jaime said softly, and their eyes met. 'You're stuck with me, I'm afraid.'

A silence fell between them, a half-smile on both their lips. Brienne's heart was racing at his tender gaze.

She swallowed. 'Have you thought about afterwards?' she asked him in a somewhat shaky voice, glancing around at the courtyard.

Jaime pulled a face. 'I don't want to tempt fate. Besides, I don't have high hopes for my chances in this battle,' he said, in a voice that oddly sounded very similar to the old sly Jaime of a few years past, and Brienne frowned.

'You mustn't think that way.'

'I'm only being realistic, as any good soldier should be. I have faith that you'll survive though,' Jaime said, nudging her arm with his own; Brienne was taken aback by the casual touch.

She raised her eyebrows at him sceptically. 'You do?'

'Of course. You're the best fighter I've ever known,' Jaime said without hesitation, and Brienne's lips parted. 'And you have the best Valyrian steel sword there is. Whoever gave that to you must have known what he was doing.'

Brienne tilted her head at him. Arrogant prick.

She wanted to come up with some witty response but they both knew that wasn't her, and they both smiled slightly because of it. Jaime looked up then as he noticed Podrick wandering about with his sword at the other side of the courtyard, looking almost as scared as he felt.

'You should go,' Jaime murmured reluctantly, and he gestured to Pod. 'This is your squire's first proper battle, and I reckon he'll be needing a bit of a pep talk round about now.'

Brienne looked doubtful. 'Motivational speaking's not really my thing.'

'No, but you've done something right with him so far. He's been trained well,' Jaime said, and he looked almost smug. 'Told you he was a good lad.'

Brienne followed his gaze to watch Pod and to her embarrassment found that her eyes had begun to water. She had been in denial for too long of the danger that Pod would be in during this battle. Her Pod. He had been her loyal companion for years now, always there to assist her and comfort her, always supporting her no matter what. He knew her better than almost anyone. Aside from Jaime, of course.

'I love him like a son. Like he's my own,' Brienne found herself saying, and she touched Jaime's arm briefly. 'Thank you for that.'

Jaime gazed at her, stunned, and nodded. He hadn't realised before just how much she cared for Pod; after all, neither he nor Brienne had ever thought she'd let herself open up and get attached to someone like that. She had always maintained such a cold-hearted, tough persona during their earlier days together, but of course that had all been a mask she had worn to protect herself, something Jaime could relate to only too well.

He suddenly found himself desperately concerned for Pod's welfare in this upcoming battle as well. He didn't want Brienne to experience the pain of having someone so close to you wrenched from your life like that, not in such a brutal way, and not for someone so young and innocent and loyal as Pod. Jaime sighed in resignation as he looked over at the young man looking anxiously about the courtyard. He had no choice; he needed to look out for Pod as well tonight. The three of them would have to stay close. He would make sure of that.

Brienne then got up to her feet; Jaime did the same. 'You should find your brother,' she said, giving him a sorrowful look, and when he tilted his head at her questioningly, she sighed. 'We could die tonight. Be with your family.'

Shaken by her words, Jaime could do nothing more than nod at her. Suddenly the affectionate intimacy of their meal and conversation just now seemed to have evaporated into the cold night air, and all that was left between them was the abrupt comprehension of the fact that the Great War was upon them. The dead were coming, the end was nigh. And they had a duty to fulfil.

Brienne nodded back at him stiffly, and, exchanging the briefest of sympathetic looks, filled with understanding and regret and longing, the two of them then turned and walked away from one another, Brienne towards her terrified squire, and Jaime towards the castle to locate his brother, who was no doubt already on the way to becoming very drunk. He felt more churned up with every step he took in the opposite direction to Brienne, her words ringing in his ears.

'We could die tonight. Be with your family.'

It was only when he'd entered the castle that Jaime realised why it felt so wrong to walk away from Brienne – he wanted her to be his family.

* * *

The thought of finally being reunited with his family was all that motivated Jaime Lannister to walk through the large gates into King's Landing, the city he had once known so well and yet now seemed so strange and foreign to him. He was exhausted after weeks of riding south, so it was with an air of trepidation that Jaime slowly, tiredly stepped forward into the city, looking around with a strange feeling bubbling inside him.

Jaime came to a halt as he surveyed his surroundings. How long had it been since he'd set foot in theses streets? A year and a half? Was that all? It felt like decades. So much had changed – not the city, he gathered from a quick glance, but himself. The journey he had been on to get back here…its impact was only just beginning to hit him. It was overwhelming.

'Out of the way,' came a voice.

Perplexed, Jaime looked around to see a short, grubby-looking man, pulling a cart and trying to move past him. Jaime paused for a moment, stunned; no doubt the man would soon realise his mistake once he recognised the King's uncle.

But he did not – instead, the man looked Jaime up and down, his eyes taking in his filthy rags and dirty, greasy long hair, and prominent stump, and raised his eyebrows dismissively at him.

'Step aside, country boy,' he said bluntly, budging past Jaime with his cart and forcing him to stumble backwards. 'People are working here.'

Jaime stared after him, his mouth open in shock, and his heart sank slightly. No civilian of King's Landing had ever talked to him in such a way before. Was he really that unrecognisable? Jaime looked down at the ground, ashamed and humiliated. He wasn't sure if he wanted to explore this new, grim phase of his life. Part of him wondered if it was too late to turn back. He could feel Brienne's eyes on him; he was somewhat confident now that she would accompany him if he were to run in the other direction and asked her to. But they both had an oath – she needed to exchange him for the Stark girls. And then that would be it. His time with his grumpy captor over and done with. Jaime wasn't sure how that made him feel. He wasn't sure how he was feeling about any of it.

Jaime looked over at Brienne, needing reassurance. Her face, normally so reserved or irritable, was instead full of sympathy. Her features had softened and her eyes burned with pity. She looked younger somehow; kinder, even. The deep, bloody scars from where the bear had clawed at her neck were still prominently visible underneath her clothes. It made Jaime think of all it had cost them both to get here. He hoped it would be worth it.

Brienne gave him a small, sad smile. She wished he could see that he was not the man he had started out as – or at least, not the man he had been when they had first met. He had become more open-hearted, particularly over the past few weeks after he had rescued her from Harrenhal, and for Brienne it was this, more so than his drastically different appearance, that made him so unrecognisable from the golden lion he had been when he'd last resided within these splendid city walls.

Her expression flooded Jaime with a great rush of affection for Brienne. 'I'm here. I'm with you. You'll be all right,' her gaze told him. He was touched by how she had grown to care. She was able to recognise the humanity left in him, when no one else in the world could.

Slightly reassured, Jaime averted his gaze and looked to the direction of the Red Keep. On the bright side, at least 'country boy' made a nice change from 'Kingslayer'. Knowing he could put this off no longer, Jaime then set off along the street. Brienne watched him warily as she and Qyburn followed, though she kept a respectful distance from him as she let him walk far ahead; after all, he was returning home after all this time – he needed a moment on his own to take it all in.

Jaime was filled with both dread and relief as they approached the entrance to the great looming castle. It took the guards an embarrassingly long time to believe that this was really Jaime Lannister, but eventually they were let through. While Qyburn kept busy looking around the interior of the Red Keep in fascination, Brienne kept a close eye on Jaime and went up to him at once, her eyes filled with concern, as Jaime came to a standstill, his eyes lowered to the floor as he exhaled deeply. Being back in this building…it was too much for him. It was all too much.

He looked up and saw Brienne stood right at his side, tilting her head worriedly at him, and he sighed. 'I'm not sure I'm ready to see her,' he mumbled, averting his gaze.

'You'll never feel ready,' Brienne murmured, her voice sympathetic and unusually soft.

'But look at me,' Jaime said indignantly, gesturing his stump and the rags he wore. 'She can't see me like this.'

Brienne just shook her head at him imploringly. 'She's your sister.'

Jaime sighed. Brienne didn't understand; she didn't know Cersei at all. Not like he knew her.

'So how will this work? Would you like to march me into the hall in chains?' Jaime asked dryly. 'You are technically still my captor and I your hostage, after all.'

Brienne gave him a disapproving look. 'I think circumstances changed when Bolton charged his men with seeing you here,' she replied. 'But I do still expect an exchange. Lady Catelyn's daughters need to be released.'

'I'll make sure it's the first matter I discuss with Cersei,' Jaime said firmly, his voice breaking slightly on the last word.

There was a pause as Jaime kept staring down at the floor, the fingers in his left hand twitching agitatedly. Brienne hadn't realised until now just how nervous he had been about the day of his return…the day he had been anticipating for so long and yet just left him confused and out-of-sorts.

'You should go and see her on your own first. You don't want me there. And I don't think I need to be,' Brienne said gently; after all, she knew now that he would keep his word.

Jaime swallowed slightly, moved. 'I'm grateful for your trust,' he said, and they nodded at each other as he backed away slightly. 'I'm not sure how long I'll be, but…wait for me, and feel free to explore the castle. I'll come and find you once I've spoken with Cersei.'

'Very good, Ser Jaime. And…good luck.'

All he could manage was a nervous nod before he'd turned and made his way unsteadily up the grand set of steps to the tower where he knew Cersei would be.

The next few hours passed in a strange blur for Jaime. He met Cersei, Tywin, Tyrion and many others, and it was almost like an out-of-body experience for him. He felt so disconnected from it all, like a stranger watching from the sidelines. He was shocked that his family – or at least, Cersei and his father, and even this very building that he had once called home – were not how he had remembered them at all.

Somehow Jaime felt even more broken now that he had reunited with Cersei than he had before. She hadn't been pleased or overjoyed to see him. On the contrary, she had cast his stump a look of utmost horror and disgust before demanding to know how he had let such a thing happen to him and why it had taken so long for him to come back.

And then he was told about the events of the Red Wedding.

The moment he heard of Lady Catelyn's tragically brutal fate, Jaime found himself refusing his offers for multiple baths and trips to the maester and barber, and instead asking for the whereabouts of Brienne. He knew she needed to be told at once, and he had an urge to be there for her when she found out…not that he would be much source of comfort.

He finally located her out in the gardens, sat with her back turned in a small sheltered clearing, her face turned towards the ocean. Despite the heat outside, she still had her cloak wrapped firmly around her.

'Brienne…' Jaime began.

It was the first time he had addressed her without her title, but he felt that, given the circumstances, he no longer cared about appropriate boundaries. Not after everything they had been through together. If they could share a bath together, they had certainly reached a first-name-only basis.

Brienne slowly turned around from her seat and faced him. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face streaked with tears. She looked so desperately miserable; it made Jaime feel sick with guilt and sorrow.

'You've heard,' he said heavily.

She nodded, her bottom lip trembling, and she turned away back to face the sea, not wanting him to see her so upset. It was humiliating.

Jaime tentatively walked over to her. He hadn't known just how much she cared for Lady Catelyn. He had never known anyone take their oath so seriously. It only made him admire her more. He was alarmed to find himself wishing he could do something, anything, to ease her distress.

He sat down beside her on the stone bench, and sighed deeply. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to do with his hand. There was a long silence as they both sat there, listening to the sound of the waves below. It would have been so peaceful and nice for the two of them to spend some relaxing time together like this, away from any soldiers and free from their former open hostility towards each other. Alas, the circumstances were too sombre for any remote enjoyment to come out of it.

'Did you know?' Brienne mumbled eventually, sniffing slightly as she stared down at her lap. 'When we were at Harrenhal, did you know then, what Roose Bolton was planning to do?'

'No I didn't. I'll be honest with you, I suspected he was toying with…something. But never this,' Jaime murmured, his voice shaking slightly, and without thinking he put his hand over Brienne's. 'I'm truly sorry-'

'How can you be sorry?' Brienne interrupted sharply, jerking her hand away from his and giving him an incredulous look. 'Your enemy has been slaughtered. The Starks are gone. Your family won, you should be celebrating. I doubt you've ever been sorry for anything in your life.'

Jaime was stung by her comments. 'I never wanted it to happen like this. The Starks didn't deserve to die that way, it was…barbaric. It was cruel.'

'Since when have you cared about that?' Brienne snapped. 'It's the Lannister house way.'

'Well it's no longer my way.'

'Those are just words,' Brienne muttered, looking away from him.

She sighed. She knew she was being harsh. After what Jaime had told her in the bathhouse at Harrenhal, she knew he cared. And she knew that Jaime himself had had no part in this. She was more angry with herself than with him. She had been so naïve to believe in justice and fairness in the world, even though Jaime had warned her that the world did not work in such a way. And now she knew.

'I'd swear to make those bastards pay for what they did to Lady Catelyn and her son, but that would mean trying to hurt your entire family,' Brienne said bitterly.

It only just hit her then that, despite everything he had suffered at the hands of Locke, despite the mutilation and constant humiliation…Jaime had never once voiced seeking revenge after they had been captured. He had been perfectly happy to move on from that dark chapter in his life the moment he'd rescued her from Harrenhal. But Brienne couldn't move on so easily. That just wasn't her.

Jaime nodded sympathetically. 'I don't doubt that you could do it.'

'Well I do. Not because of my physical abilities,' Brienne said, and she forced herself to look up at him, though there was contempt in her eyes as she did so. 'Because of you.'

He didn't ask what she meant. He didn't think he needed to. It was bizarre and unexpected and not what they had wanted to happen in the slightest, but they had both grown fond of each other during the last few weeks on their journey back from Harrenhal…perhaps even from the moment Jaime had lost his hand defending her. It was strange how they had touched each other's mind and heart in such a significant way.

'Well I'm sorry for the inconvenience my presence has on your quest for revenge,' he said sarcastically, and Brienne glared at him.

'You really are an arrogant bastard, aren't you?' she muttered, and the slight half-smile on his lips made her roll her eyes irritably. 'I do hate you sometimes, you know.'

'Likewise. Oh, try to cheer up, I'm already missing that fair smile of yours,' Jaime muttered, and Brienne scowled at him incredulously. 'I'm jesting.'

'How appropriate.'

He sighed heavily. 'Forgive me, I…I've never been that gifted at…consoling,' he admitted, and Brienne shuffled uncomfortably on the bench. 'Look, things could be a lot worse. You and I could have been killed many times since Lady Catelyn released me, but you got me here…alive. You succeeded in your mission. You did what she asked.'

'You got yourself back here simply because you knew what to say to Roose Bolton. I only made matters worse for you,' Brienne said waspishly. 'It's my fault you lost your sword hand, and it's my fault you almost got killed by that bear.'

Jaime groaned irritably. 'You really are the most miserable woman I've ever met.'

'I'm sorry to disappoint.'

'I'm curious, have you ever smiled before? Or laughed? Do you even know how to?' Jaime asked, fascinated. 'Or…had a drink, relaxed a while, had some fun?'

'Fun? You think a woman like me can relax and laugh and have fun?' Brienne said scornfully, casting him a distasteful look. 'You have no idea how cruel life can be sometimes.'

Jaime looked back and forth between her and his stump, incredulous. 'Do you even hear yourself when you talk?'

Brienne looked flustered. 'I didn't mean – forgive me, Ser Jaime. That was insensitive.'

'No…I'm the one who's insensitive,' Jaime grumbled, sighing. 'You lost the person you were pledged to, of course you must have time to grieve.'

Brienne looked at him, surprised.

'But you shouldn't feel at all…lost, you know. You could return to Tarth, if you want to see your father and your people. Or you're welcome to stay here in King's Landing – at the Red Keep, even, if you would like,' Jaime suggested tentatively, astonishing Brienne. 'I wouldn't be able to get you into the City Watch, I'm afraid those laws wouldn't allow it, but…I could find you a place at court. I could find you a husband.'

Brienne frowned at him, as if offended. 'I don't want a husband.'

'What, not ever?' Jaime asked, flummoxed.

'No.'

'Why not? I'm sure there's…a man out there…big enough who-'

'I don't want to grow attached to anyone,' Brienne interrupted firmly, her eyes welling up again, and she turned away to look out at the sea, too ashamed to meet his gaze. 'After Renly died…I swore to myself that I wouldn't let myself feel that way again. When you love someone, you have something to lose.'

She never wanted to feel that pain again. Never.

A silence fell between them as Brienne breathed deeply and tried to concentrate on the peaceful sound of the waves. She didn't care that she was humiliating herself in front of Jaime. He had bared his soul to her in that bath. There were no secrets between them now, even if they both insisted on keeping up the pretence that they were merely newly-formed allies.

'Besides, no man would ever love me or want to marry me,' Brienne muttered. 'Look at me. I'm a complete joke.'

Jaime hesitated. 'You're not to me,' he mumbled.

Brienne turned around and stared at him.

'Not anymore. Sort of,' Jaime added impatiently, and he gave her an irritated look, as if she had annoyed him greatly somehow.

The talk of marriage left him feeling uneasy and even partly embarrassed. Everyone they had come across on their journey from the Riverlands back to King's Landing, be it civilian or soldier, had assumed that Brienne was Jaime's mistress. He wasn't an idiot; he'd heard the rumours of them being lovers – and, quite frankly, he wasn't surprised, after the loud jeering and teasing from Locke's men while they'd kept Jaime and Brienne hostage. If either himself or Brienne were ever to marry, honour demanded that they really ought to marry each other. After all, spending time alone with a man in the woods for a long duration of time was enough to ruin a noble woman, let alone sharing a bath. To Jaime's alarm, the thought didn't repulse him half as much as it would have done a few months ago.

Feeling rather flustered all of a sudden, Jaime then got up to his feet. 'I'll see to it that you are given good clothing, and I'll request a bedchamber with a nice view for you-'

'You expect me to live here?' Brienne said disdainfully. 'In the home of the people responsible for the slaughter of Lady Catelyn?'

Jaime looked exasperated. 'I expect you to get the rest you need before rushing into any decision on what you do next. I…' he said, but he trailed off and sighed. 'Qyburn and Maester Pycelle will both want you to receive proper treatment for those wounds, so you'll need to stay here for a few weeks anyway.'

But he didn't just want her to stay to receive proper rest and treatment. He wanted her to stay because he didn't want to face this challenge of finding his new place as a one-handed knight at King's Landing without her there. He had become so used to her company and her reassuring presence that he hadn't realised until now just how much he had taken it for granted. He had very few people left in this world willing or able to be there for him in the way that Brienne had.

'So does this mean I'm your prisoner now?' Brienne asked grumpily.

Jaime frowned. 'You're my guest,' he said patiently. 'And I'd be honoured for you to accept my invitation for you to stay at the Red Keep, for as long as you would like.'

'I'm grateful for your hospitality, Ser Jaime, I am. I just don't think I'd be as welcome here if other members of your family had a say in the matter,' Brienne said, avoiding his eye contact; they both knew who she meant by that.

'Well they don't,' Jaime said firmly. 'Not in this case.'

Brienne scoffed. 'I thought you'd be relieved to see the back of me once I brought you here.'

Jaime blinked rapidly. 'So did I,' he admitted.

They looked at each other, both their expressions weary and confused. They had never experienced such an antagonistic yet affectionate relationship before, and it was very bewildering for both of them.

'Is it true that Arya Stark hasn't been sighted in King's Landing? Since her father's execution?' Brienne asked, dismayed.

'Yes. But her sister Sansa is still here. She's alive and well,' Jaime replied. 'She's…a Lannister now. Married to my brother.'

This didn't seem to make Brienne feel any better. 'That poor girl. She has no mother because of me,' she murmured, her voice shaking as tears began to leak out of her eyes again.

She was in turmoil. Horrified, Jaime sat back down beside her, though at a complete loss with what to do.

'There's nothing you could have done. Nothing,' he said to her urgently. 'You were away on Lady Catelyn's orders, you didn't know. It was a massacre – if you'd been there, you would have been overthrown and killed too. You did nothing wrong.'

Brienne just shook her head at him, her chin wobbling slightly. 'But I still failed her. I've tried and tried for so long to be…the closest thing to a knight a woman can be. All this time people have laughed at me for doing it, and…well, maybe they were right all along,' she murmured, and Jaime's heart sank. 'I've been useless. I've been…terrible. I couldn't protect them, Renly or Lady Catelyn. I've failed everyone I've served.'

A tear trickled down her cheek and she turned away, wishing she could just sink through the ground. She didn't want anyone to see her like this, but particularly not Jaime. The last thing she wanted him to think of her was as some pathetic, weeping woman.

Feeling desperately sorry for her, Jaime opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. He moved his hand but was worried she would reject his touch again. There was nothing he could do to help her in her grief.

'Oh, just go away,' Brienne muttered shortly, wiping her eyes. 'Don't you have more important things to be getting on with? Why are you even out here anyway?'

'Because I wanted to see you. I want to make sure you're all right,' Jaime replied, almost irritably, and he raised his eyebrows at her when she frowned at him, perplexed. 'What, you thought I was just going to never talk to you again once we arrived here?'

Brienne turned away from him. 'Well I want you to leave,' she mumbled, feeling her cheeks getting slightly warm.

'I'm not going anywhere,' Jaime said quietly.

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. 'You're so bloody annoying!' she snapped, and Jaime nodded, fighting back a smile.

'I know. I know.'

He put a hand on her shoulder; he expected her to shrug it off, but she didn't; instead she closed her eyes at his touch, and her bottom lip trembled as she removed her hands from her face. 'Brienne, you haven't failed. There's still Lady Catelyn's eldest daughter, like I said. And she's here, in the city.'

She realised that he was trying to help her see purpose. He was trying to make her see that she had a reason to go on. And he was right – the Stark girls still needed protecting. She sat up ever so slightly as she exhaled deeply, realising that the tears had stopped coming now.

'Stay here,' Jaime urged, squeezing her shoulder. 'Even if just for a little while.'

There was a slight pause. Brienne inclined her head towards him and felt her expression soften and her shoulders untense at the comforting yet firm look on his face. She knew from that look that she wouldn't need to worry anymore about what was going to happen to her now. Her former prisoner was going to make sure she was well looked after. It didn't even bother her anymore how odd it was that this was what it had come to between them.

'All right,' Brienne said begrudgingly, wiping her nose. 'If you think it best.'

'Good,' Jaime said, and he gave her shoulder a final pat before letting go and rising to his feet. 'I'll send someone to find you and take you to your new room when you're ready. Once you've had time to get rested and settled, we'll talk more.'

Brienne nodded, her eyes still rather watery as she realised that the handsome, arrogant golden lion of House Lannister had prioritised finding her to console her over getting changed out of those hideous rags and washing himself. Attempting a small smile at her, Jaime then bowed his head and left.

As Brienne watched Jaime walk away and leave the gardens, her lips slightly parted, she found herself shaken by how Jaime had made her realise that the news of Lady Catelyn's death had only reaffirmed her oath. She wouldn't fail again. She would make sure of it. She would try her hardest to uphold her promise to Lady Catelyn. And she would do all she could to get Jaime to do the same as well.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

Jaime stared into the flames, still chilled despite sat so close to the fireplace of the castle's great hall, and sighed as he took another sip of the wine that he and his brother had been slowly consuming. The long night was upon them, and all they could do now was wait for the threat to arrive. Tyrion sat beside him, his expression glum as he pondered on the meaning of life.

'I wish Father were here,' Tyrion said thoughtfully, and Jaime frowned at him, perplexed; after all, Tyrion was the one who had killed their father in the first place. 'I would love to see the look on his face when he realizes his two sons are about to die defending Winterfell.'

There was a pause as Jaime considered his words for a moment, frozen in horror at the thought. He could picture Tywin Lannister's expression before his very eyes.

Amused, Jaime snorted. 'That would be something to see.'

While the wind howled outside, Tyrion leaned around in his chair and looked out at the great hall, which had been emptied of all its tables and the benches pushed to the side. 'I remember the first time we were here, the first time I saw this hall,' he said wistfully, and Jaime sighed as his brother turned to face him. 'You were a golden lion. I was a drunken whoremonger. It was all so simple.'

Jaime cast him a sceptical glance and shook his head. 'It wasn't so simple,' he said, looking ashamed and almost disgusted. 'I was sleeping with my sister and you had one friend in the world…who was sleeping with his sister.'

'I was speaking in relative terms,' Tyrion mumbled.

'Do you miss it?' Jaime asked.

'Of course I miss it.'

Jaime raised his eyebrows; the complete opposite was true for him. 'Well, my golden-lion days are done, but whoremongering is still an option for you.'

But Tyrion shook his head. 'It's not. Things would be easier if it were,' he said miserably, sighing, and he raised his goblet to Jaime. 'The perils of self-betterment.'

Jaime raised his goblet too; it had only just touched his lips when the door to the great hall opened at the far end of the room. Surprised, Jaime paused and looked around in his seat. His heartrate lurched unsteadily forwards at the sight of the tall familiar figure striding purposefully into the hall. Nearly choking on his drink, he instantly leapt up to his feet.

'My lady,' Jaime said welcomingly, a slight smile on his face.

Tyrion noted the hopeful gaze in his flustered brother's eyes, not to mention the way he had jumped up from his chair like a lovestruck fool, but he dismissed it with a mere playful flicker of his eyebrows. He was intrigued. He had never once seen his brother remotely interested in a woman who wasn't that cruel, beguiling sister of theirs.

'Oh,' Brienne said, surprised, as Pod followed her into the hall, 'we didn't mean to interrupt. We were just looking for somewhere warm to-'

'-To contemplate your imminent death,' Tyrion finished for her, getting up to his feet. 'You've come to the right place.'

Jaime couldn't stop staring at Brienne. He'd been enjoying these past few hours alone with his brother, but was now so grateful for the additional company. He'd been trying not to think about her while sat in this hall, but now she was here and, despite their impending doom, everything suddenly seemed momentarily at ease.

'You want some of this piss?' Tyrion offered the newcomers, indicating his goblet as he wandered over to the table where the wine stood. 'It's not bad. It's not good either.'

'Thank you, milord,' Pod said at once, moving over to join Tyrion.

'I don't think that's wise,' Brienne said reprovingly, and Pod stopped at once; Jaime's lips twitched. 'The battle might start at any moment.'

There was an awkward pause. Pod looked desperate. Brienne exchanged a sideways glance with Jaime; he tilted his head at her, amused.

Brienne looked back at Pod. 'Half a cup,' she said sternly.

Smirking, Jaime then eagerly moved over to the side of the hall to fetch a chair for her.

'And you?' Tyrion asked as he poured Pod a generous amount into a new goblet.

'No, thank you. I should try and get some sleep,' Brienne replied, and to her delight Jaime then spoke up in protest.

'You really think any of us are going to sleep tonight?' he pointed out sceptically, and he put the chair down close beside his with a warm gesture. 'Join us.'

Brienne stared at him, shaken by his soft eyes and polite smile. She glanced back at the chair he had brought out for her, trying not to let the nerves overcome her. She couldn't pretend that she didn't know the real reason she had insisted on searching for a better room to rest, making poor Pod traipse after her around the castle from room to room while she looked for the 'ideal setting to prepare'. She knew deep down that she had really just been searching for Jaime's whereabouts. Even after she'd ended their intimate conversation together in the courtyard and sent him away to be with his brother…she knew she had made a mistake. She wanted to be here with him. And he was evidently happy to see her here. So why decline?

Brienne gave him a hesitant nod. 'All right,' she replied, and she raised her eyebrows over at Tyrion. 'Just a bit.'

She shyly returned Jaime's smile as she walked over towards the fireplace; smitten, he held the chair out for her, chivalrously keeping his hand on the back until she had sat down. It still felt so strange, that after all these years they were together again, finally on the same side. It was a pleasant sort of strange though.

As Jaime walked over to his own chair and Tyrion handed over a full goblet to Brienne with a sly smirk, there came the sound of footsteps as Ser Davos emerged from the other door.

'Well, what do we have here?' he said, and Jaime frowned to himself slightly; he had been somewhat hoping for it to remain just the small group of them, so he'd have more time to dedicate to solely Brienne during their dark final hours.

'Ser Davos, join us,' Tyrion greeted, holding out his goblet.

'No, not for me, thanks. Came here for this,' Davos said, and he moved to stand in front of the fireplace with a sigh. 'I figured I could wait to die freezing my balls off out there…or wait to die nice and warm in here.'

Brienne heard the heavy footsteps and smelt the unpleasant odour before he had even stood beside her, and then suddenly there he was, looming above her with a keen expression on his hairy face – Tormund Giantsbane. She barely repressed a shudder.

It had taken Brienne a considerable amount of time to agree with Pod's teasing that Tormund was making romantic advances towards her. She supposed she ought to find it flattering, seeming as no man had ever been interested in her that way before. But instead it infuriated her; not because he was a Wildling, just because he was an extremely annoying man who insisted on pestering her, no matter how much she tried to get away. But there was no avoiding him from here. Irritably, she looked up to face him.

'It could be our last night in this world, you know,' Tormund said to her in his deep, gruff voice, his expression repulsively eager.

Jaime, who had sat down beside Brienne, frowned down at his lap as he slowly brought his goblet up to his lips. In the short pause that followed, he glanced awkwardly over at Brienne. He found himself remembering the look this Tormund fellow had given Brienne during the war council meeting earlier. 'We're all going to die. But at least we'll die together'. He remembered Brienne's look of disgust at his words. The same way she used to look at Jaime, before their captivity with Locke. Jaime felt his lips twitch.

'Yes, well, I'm glad you're here,' Brienne replied reluctantly, and Tormund's face lit up in delight; alarmed, she began to stammer, unaware of Jaime's eyes looking her up and down in intrigue beside her. 'Here f-fighting with us. Glad you…survived Eastwatch,' she clarified hastily.

Jaime tilted his head as he watched her closely, trying to hide his amusement at how flustered she was. He couldn't keep his eyes off her; he was too interested trying to gauge her reaction to what was happening. He wondered if she had ever encountered such explicit advances from a man before. Most likely not.

'Would you like a drink?' Tyrion offered Tormund over from the corner.

'Brought my own,' Tormund replied, gesturing the horn in his hands.

Embarrassed, Brienne turned to face Jaime, almost wordlessly asking him for help in how to deal with this man stood beside her. A slight smile on his face, Jaime looked up at Tormund, unimpressed, before meeting Brienne's gaze. After exchanging the briefest of glances, they both turned back to look up at Tormund, their heads moving in synchronization.

And that was all it took for Tormund to stand up a little straighter and puff his chest out. Frowning, he glanced suspiciously back and forth between Brienne and Jaime.

'They call you 'King Killer',' Tormund said to Jaime, eyeing his competition appraisingly.

Jaime hesitated. 'I'm sure…someone does,' he replied doubtfully, glancing back at Brienne before frowning back up at Tormund.

'They call me 'Giantsbane',' Tormund said proudly, also glancing briefly at Brienne before tilting his head threateningly at Jaime. 'Want to know why?'

Brienne watched Jaime as he exhaled deeply, slightly taken aback by this strange man stood before him; was this actually supposed to be an intimidation ploy? He exchanged a wary glance with Tyrion as Tormund grabbed a nearby chair and drew it up so he could sit directly opposite Jaime. He sat down and leaned forward, evidently preparing for an impressive tale. Jaime eyed him apprehensively.

'I killed a giant when I was 10,' Tormund began dramatically.

Not knowing where this was going, Brienne turned slowly to face Jaime; their eyes met. They both knew this story was for Brienne's benefit. It was all to impress her. Jaime wondered for a moment whether this horrible churned-up feeling in his stomach was jealousy. He had never experienced it before, not really. But something in Brienne's distasteful expression told him that he needn't be worried.

'Then I climbed right into bed with his wife,' Tormund went on, and Jaime frowned at him, bemused, before glancing quickly back at Brienne.

'When she woke up…you know what she did?' Tormund asked, and Jaime tilted his head questioningly at him, completely bewildered. 'Suckled me at her teat for three months. Thought I was her baby.'

It was then when Jaime was reassured that he had nothing to feel threatened by at all. After all, he knew. He knew that Brienne wasn't interested in Tormund so-called Giantsbane, because he knew her, better than most – and also because this man was clearly slightly mad. But that didn't stop him from watching Brienne carefully, scrutinizing every change in her body language and facial expression to judge her reaction to Tormund's rambling. It was also extremely entertaining.

'That's how I got so strong,' Tormund grunted proudly, as Brienne glanced over at Jaime, half-perplexed, half-horrified. 'Giant's milk.'

And then Tormund began to drink from the horn he had brought into the hall – only he didn't appear able to drink like an ordinary person, for he began gulping noisily as he swallowed his drink down, remnants of the liquid gushing out from the horn onto his beard and clothes.

Jaime watched him for a moment as if he were a mildly interesting jester before looking back at Brienne. It took everything he had in him not to burst out laughing at her expression; she was watching Tormund with utter repulsion on her face. As Tormund grunted his appreciation and kept gulping down his drink in the messiest fashion possible, Jaime turned to pull a bemused face at Tyrion.

Davos looked stunned. 'Maybe I will have that drink,' he said, sighing as he walked away from the fireplace to help himself to some wine.

The moment Tormund had finished drinking, he dropped his horn to the stone floor with a clatter. He turned inquisitively to Jaime and Brienne, as if expecting a round of applause. They both exchanged perplexed glances.

'W-well…thank you for that, Tormund,' Jaime said, sounding slightly stunned. 'What a touching story.'

'Yes. Very moving,' Brienne agreed, also dazed, and she flushed at the appalled look on Tormund's face, and hastily added; 'Impressive, even.'

Tormund raised his eyebrows challengingly at Jaime, clearly satisfied by her assessment, before turning to talk to Tyrion.

Brienne averted her gaze for a while but felt her cheeks begin to colour as she felt Jaime's eyes on her yet again. She slowly looked up; he had an amused smirk on his face. She felt her lips twitch in response. The sensation was unfamiliar to her. It made her think of the first time Jaime had made her smile, years ago. It had been too long since she'd smiled.

'What shall we drink to…Lady Brienne?' Jaime then asked in an almost flirtatious tone, as he leaned across his chair towards her.

Neither of them noticed as Tormund jerked his head sharply towards them both, eyes wide with rage and alarm; they were too preoccupied with each other. And poor Tormund realised in that moment that he never really stood a chance.

Brienne hesitated as she thought carefully. 'To fighting for the North. To honour,' she said, her voice proud as she gazed pointedly at him.

Jaime's expression faltered slightly, deeply moved as he realised what she meant, and then raised his goblet and clinked it against Brienne's before they both took a large sip. Tormund was right: this could be their last night in this world. They could well die. But Jaime and Brienne had one thought to comfort them in facing this terrifying truth – at least they would die together.

Chapter Text

The time passed slowly. A comfortable silence had fallen amongst the group assembled around the fire as they continued to drink and stare into the flickering flames, waiting in dread for the horn blasts to signal that the Army of the Dead were upon them. Brienne and Jaime both secretly yearned to talk to the other, but what to say? Particularly with the others there? Nevertheless, they were at least comforted by each other's presence as they sat side by side, exchanging the occasional glance as they sipped the rest of their wine. It felt nice for them all to be together, united like this around the fire. One last hurrah before the battle.

'It's strange, isn't it?' Tyrion said thoughtfully after a while as he looked around at them all. 'Almost everyone here's fought the Starks at one time or another. And here we are in their castle…ready to defend it. Together.'

There was a small pause as everyone considered his words, slightly dazed.

And then Brienne spoke up. 'At least we'll die with honour,' she said, her tone resigned yet proud.

Jaime looked at her, mesmerised. She inspired him so much. Even in the face of death, she was unperturbed. Instead, she was determined and loyal and extraordinary. It even made Jaime believe her – yes, he would die tonight, but as an honourable man. That was all he had ever wanted, all he had ever strived to be yet never thought he could become. Until Brienne had come into his life.

'I think we might live,' Tyrion said with a slight chuckle, and with a snort Ser Davos began to laugh. 'I-I do! How many battles have we survived between us? Ser Davos Seaworth – survivor of both the Blackwater and the Battle of the Bastards.'

'All without a shred of combat ability,' Davos said in surprise, and Tormund grunted in agreement.

'Ser Jaime Lannister,' Tyrion then rang out, and Jaime raised his eyebrows wearily and tilted his head at him, 'fabled hero of the Siege of Pyke.'

'Fabled loser of the Battle of Whispering Wood,' Jaime interjected, getting up to his feet and crossing the room to fetch some more wine.

'Hear, hear!'

Brienne watched him go thoughtfully, admiring how handsome he looked in that rustic armour. She thought back to the man he had been back when he had been taken prisoner at the Whispering Wood. He may be somewhat embarrassed now at how he had lost that battle, but he couldn't deny that if he hadn't lost, he would never have changed to become the better person that he was today.

Tyrion tilted his head at Brienne. 'Ser Brienne of Tarth. Defeated the Hound in – pardon me, Lady Brienne,' he corrected himself, pretending his mistake was genuine and not deliberate.

Tormund looked confused. 'She's not a ser? You're not a knight?' he asked her incredulously.

Brienne closed her eyes. 'Women can't be knights,' she explained, trying not to sound too bitter.

'Why not?'

'Tradition,' she replied simply.

'Fuck tradition.'

Jaime looked around at Tormund as he poured more wine into his goblet, and he smiled slightly. He didn't like the man, but he certainly had the right mindset. It was ridiculous that Brienne was prevented from becoming a knight just because of her gender. It was wrong. He glanced over at Brienne; her unbothered expression didn't fool him one bit.

'I don't even want to be a knight,' Brienne said, her tone dismissive, but when she glanced over at Pod and saw him frowning at her, her expression softened slightly as she realised what she had said. She had never been a good liar.

'I'm no king. But if I were,' Tormund said, leaning towards Brienne, 'I'd knight you ten times over.'

Brienne stared at Tormund, slightly alarmed by the intensity of his leering gaze, when suddenly Jaime spoke up from the corner of the hall.

'You don't need a king,' Jaime realised, his tone thoughtful as he turned around to face Brienne and Tormund with a slight frown on his face. 'Any knight can make another knight.'

Brienne tilted her head at him, confused. What was he trying to say?

Jaime had already made his decision before he'd set his goblet back down on the table. It might have been Tormund's idea, but Jaime wanted to be the one to make Brienne's dream a reality. He turned back to face them.

'I'll prove it,' he said firmly, fixing his eyes on Tormund's sceptical glare, and he walked over to the centre of the hall where the space was clear of all tables and chairs.

Jaime exhaled inaudibly, his heartrate increasing slightly. He'd always known how no one had ever appreciated Brienne's bravery or accepted her as the great warrior she was. But now he had the chance to give her what she really deserved, what she had always wanted beyond anything else. And it terrified him.

He drew out his sword. 'Kneel, Lady Brienne,' he said commandingly, pointing his sword at the stone floor before him, and he looked over at her.

Brienne stared at him unsurely and then turned away, scoffing, before any of the others had an opportunity to laugh as well. She had been conditioned to only expect mockery from men all her life, so she was used to having to be on guard and simply wait for the joke to be played out. She was trying to put on a brave face, but deep inside she was distressed about the possibility that Jaime could be in on whatever jest this might be. She'd thought he was better than that, that his bullying days were behind him.

But then something in Jaime's expression changed as he realised she doubted him. 'Do you want to be a knight or not?' he asked.

Surprised, Brienne slowly turned back to him, her expression of fake amusement faltering. And then she realised from the look on Jaime's face that this was not a joke. He was being serious.

Jaime nodded his head at her, his eyebrows raised. 'Kneel,' he said, his voice firm and strong, and almost sensual.

There was a silence as all the men assembled looked back and forth between Jaime and Brienne with baited breath.

Confused and afraid, Brienne glanced over at Pod, who gave her a reassuring nod and smile. 'It's all right, milady', he told her wordlessly in his gaze, 'you can trust him'.

Brienne turned back to face Jaime, conflicted. Jaime felt a great rush of sympathy for her. He understood Brienne more than most; the feeling of being an outsider, people having preconceived opinions about her, being mocked. He understood the pain that she just wanted to be recognised and accepted for the person she had always been. But perhaps now he would be able to help that pain subside a little. He had never been able to tell her how important she was to him – this was his chance.

Jaime gave her another nod, his expression kind and encouraging.

Stunned, Brienne slowly got up from her chair and put down her drink. She stood there for a moment and simply gazed over at Jaime, trying to search the expression in his eyes. She still looked so unsure, so wary. Humiliation frightened Brienne more than any battle or injury or threat of death ever could. The last time she had been surrounded by a group of men like this, she had been the victim of a cruel joke. She couldn't help being hesitant to oblige Jaime's request. But now, though she could hardly dare believe it, he was wanting to honour and praise her. She could see it in his eyes, sparkling with admiration, and in his strong voice, his firm expression – he was wanting to show her the utmost respect in front of all these fancy men. He was there for her and only her. And he was offering her something she never thought she was ever going to have, something no one had ever done before.

Swallowing slightly, Brienne slowly and hesitantly began to move towards him, her footsteps and clunky armour echoing across the hall. She trusted Jaime enough to know that he would never make her a fool out of her in front of everyone assembled here. And Jaime knew how monumental that was for her to trust him in that regard.

He was surprised, suddenly feeling rather vulnerable himself; she could have easily rejected him. After all, who would want to be knighted by the Kingslayer? The rest of Westeros perhaps might not see the validity in it at all. But Brienne knew differently. She saw him only as Ser Jaime, a man of honour. And that was enough for them both. They trusted each other completely. But it still couldn't prevent the trepidation and vulnerability with which Brienne approached him.

Tyrion got up eagerly from his seat and moved slightly to get a better view; he wasn't missing one bit of this momentous occasion. He watched Brienne as she anxiously came to a halt opposite Jaime and the two of them simply stood there for a moment, gazing at each other.

Jaime pointed at the floor again with his sword, gesturing to her. A lump rising in her throat, Brienne knelt down on one knee before him. She kept her eyes on him, a small part of her still worried that he would do something daft with the sword to amuse the men watching, even though she knew really that he never would. Her heart was racing ahead like never before.

She frowned ever so slightly as she glanced down at his left hand adjusting his hold on the sword's hilt, and she realised then from the anxious fidgeting of his fingers that Jaime Lannister was just as nervous as she felt, perhaps even more so. After all, Jaime knew how it felt and what it meant to be knighted. He knew this was Brienne's dream, and he wanted this moment to be perfect for her. Of course he was nervous. How could he not be?

Jaime swallowed slightly as he lifted his sword up, and hesitated before placing it gently on Brienne's shoulder. When he said the words, he spoke slowly and poetically, as if they were wedding vows, in a voice that was both soft and powerful.

'In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave,' Jaime said gently, and he moved the sword to her other shoulder. 'In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent.'

He almost got choked up at the last three words, and his face filled with emotion as he gazed lovingly down at Brienne. He couldn't help but recall how he had broken his oath by killing the Mad King to fulfil this very vow: to save all those innocent lives of the King's Landing population. It felt like he was reclaiming something for himself that once was lost, because these were not just words, they were the most important vows of both his and Brienne's lives. He hoped she knew that he was trying to convey just how deserving she was, and how honoured he was to be able to do this for her.

Brienne was the embodiment of everything he had always wanted to be when he had been younger – if it hadn't been for his father and sister and the politics of court influencing his twisted youth, he might have even had a chance at achieving becoming an honourable knight, like the astonishing woman knelt before him. It was almost as if he was using this ceremony to take himself back to his own knighthood, to purify himself from his dark past. Brienne had shaped him into something so much more than the evil, arrogant, selfish Kingslayer he had once been, and her example and influence had now led him to do his most honourable act yet and make her wildest dream a reality. And it was the most heart-warming, triumphant feeling in the world. He might as well have been cloaking her; it didn't feel any different. If anything, these vows felt more meaningful than the words of a marriage ceremony.

There was a pause as Jaime withdrew his sword from her shoulder and let the words of the vows resonate across the hall. Brienne's chin wobbled as she slowly gazed up at him, hardly daring to believe the words he had just said. This was a dream she had never thought would happen. She could hardly believe it was real. His eyes were glistening in the firelight as he gazed back at her devotedly. It felt like they were the only two people in the room.

'Arise, Brienne of Tarth,' Jaime said, the words ringing out triumphantly across the hall, 'a knight of the Seven Kingdoms.'

He said it as if it were a declaration of love. In some ways, it was.

He was so fiercely proud of her. It was the proudest moment of his life. He could see the water brewing in her eyes as Brienne rose to her feet and began to smile. When she looked at him like that, it felt as if time stopped moving. She was completely stunned, and deliriously grateful and overjoyed that someone could know her well enough to give her everything she had always wanted, the greatest gift she could ever have asked her. He had given her the whole world. Not only had she been knighted, she had been knighted by someone she cared deeply for. And in that moment Brienne knew that she had no barriers left; she could no longer hide her emotions from him anymore. Jaime had stripped that armour from her. Her heart and soul was his now, completely.

Jaime's pupils dilated as he took in the sight of her watery eyes and the way her trembling lips smiled, and for a second Brienne was the only person in the universe. She was the most wonderful person he had ever laid eyes on. He couldn't quite believe she was real, and that it had taken him this long to realise how lucky he was just to know Brienne of Tarth. He was well and truly shaken. As he continued to gaze breathlessly back into her eyes, a look of revelation filled his awed, transfixed face as he suddenly understood what love truly meant. He didn't know what to do or how to go about processing these overwhelming feelings, but he knew now for sure – he had fallen irrevocably in love with this incredible woman stood smiling with tear-filled eyes before him.

The two of them were so lost in each others' eyes that they'd forgotten there were even other people present in the room. They were too overcome with respect and adoration for one another. Brienne knew just from his expression alone that Jaime was just as honoured to give her the title of 'knight' as she was to receive it. After all this time and everything she had been through, she had gained acknowledgement from a man who saw her for who she truly was. A man who was now openly on the same side as her at last. They were finally in the same place at the same time. They were united as one.

It took a few seconds of hesitant clapping from the others by the fireplace to snap Jaime out of his trance; he was so absorbed by the sight of Ser Brienne smiling tearfully at him that he nearly jumped as he registered the sound. Tearing his eyes away from her, Jaime looked around in shock as he realised that the four men were still there, watching them enthusiastically.

'Ser Brienne of Tarth!' Tyrion cried out, raising his goblet, and his voice was overcome with emotion. 'Knight of the Seven Kingdoms!'

While Jaime put away his sword, Brienne looked at her audience, to make sure that they weren't joking. Pod, Davos, Tormund and Tyrion were all beaming at her and applauding. They looked genuinely delighted for her. The tears threatening to spill from her eyes now, Brienne turned back to Jaime.

She was still too stunned by what had happened to speak, but the look in her eyes spoke volumes.

This is all I've ever wanted.

Her dream had come true. And Jaime Lannister had made it so. Who would have thought such a thing, all those years ago when they had first met as hostile enemies?

Jaime suddenly found his eyes wet with tears as well as he smiled back at her and gave her a nod while the others continued to cheer. He felt so warm and full inside. He had needed this just as much as Brienne; to remind himself of why he became a knight. It had given him a deep sense of privilege and joy to have finally knighted someone he had enormous admiration for, and more importantly someone who deserved the title of 'knight' more than anyone in this world. It was the most honourable thing he had ever done. It was an act of love, as well; Jaime could tell from the look on Tyrion's face as he walked back to join them by the fireplace that his brother knew this. But Jaime didn't care. Let Tyrion know. He would be perfectly happy to shout it from the rooftops, if he only had the courage. Jaime paused before sitting back in his chair and turned to look back at Brienne, who was still stood gazing at her cheering audience of admirers in awe and delight.

The pure emotional joy on Brienne's face could have warmed even the coldest of hearts. She was beaming. Her smile was the most glorious thing he had ever seen. It filled the room with light and joy. It was a beautiful moment in the middle of a nightmare, a moment in which Brienne learned that acceptance was truly a wonderful thing. She had told herself time and time again that she didn't need recognition or acceptance for the way she had chosen to live her life…but now she had it. Jaime had given her the validation that she had secretly wanted her whole life. And it was extraordinary.

Brienne knew that, whatever happened in the next few hours, even if she did indeed die during the upcoming battle, she would die happy, still relishing the blissful memory of that feeling she had experienced while she had knelt by the firelight, having her dream fulfilled by the man she now truly knew she loved.

Up until now, she hadn't fully realised – or perhaps accepted – that she was truly in love with Jaime, because that kind of experience had never really been a part of her life, aside from perhaps her unrequited affection for Renly. She had been so used to years of Jaime's taunts and insults that she had never once thought that he would genuinely believe in her…but now he was being sincere and affectionate towards her in front of all these people, something she had never encountered in this unkind world she had grown up in, and it shook her deeply. She knew she had been harbouring these feelings for a long time; she had never let herself come to terms with her burgeoning love for him because she hadn't wanted to get hurt when there was no chance such a man would feel the same way. But it felt like such a relief to finally acknowledge it now, to smile and gaze at him with tears in her eyes and not be embarrassed to do so, because life was short and they were both determined to wear their hearts on their sleeves for what little remained of their lives in this world.

Brienne could distinctly remember the horror she had felt when she'd first realised the romantic affection she was beginning to hold for Jaime…affection she determinedly hadn't allowed to even bubble to the surface of her consciousness. It had been many years ago when she had discovered that her feelings towards the Kingslayer had suddenly changed from hostility to attraction. But still, the memory was vivid.

After all, it would be very hard for anyone to forget the day of Joffrey Baratheon's wedding.

* * *

It was unbearably hot outside; Jaime could hardly cope in his heavy golden armour. The wedding banquet was well underway and yet all he could do was watch from the sidelines as his family dined in splendour up at the top table, while he remained on duty. 'A glorified bodyguard', his father had once called him. That was all he was good for. Although now he no longer had his sword hand, Jaime somehow doubted he was even good enough for that.

He walked around the perimeter of the gardens, keeping a close eye on the festivities as everyone ate and drank and entertained, while his left hand remained tightly fixed on the sword attached to his armour, prepared for any sign of trouble. To his surprise, he saw Brienne emerging down one of the paths to join everyone. For the first time since the days' celebrations had begun for Joffrey's nuptials, Jaime felt his spirits inexplicably lift slightly at the sight of her. Perhaps it was because she looked just as unhappy to be here as he was.

He looked her up and down, rather taken aback; she was wearing a dress as blue as the glorious sea not far from them in honour of the special occasion. It was high-necked and not at all feminine in its shape or the way the skirt moved, but unlike most of the clothing she wore, it complemented her figure, helped in some ways by the leather brown belt wrapped around her waist. Dressed like that, she looked tall in an almost statuesque, attractive way, rather than an ugly one.

Brienne noticed him looking, and frowned as she came to a halt beside him. 'Don't start. Just don't,' she said sternly, too embarrassed and irritated to bother exchanging pleasantries.

Jaime looked indignant and his lips twitched ever so slightly for a brief half-second. 'I wasn't going to say anything! In fact, you look quite…' – he almost said 'nice' but stopped himself just in time – 'appropriate. Pleasant, even. Considering.'

Brienne was confused. Jaime had never complimented her appearance before. He'd made it no secret that he found her an unsightly woman.

'You really shouldn't be drinking while on duty, you know,' she said, rolling her eyes as she turned with her hands behind her back to look out at the crowds celebrating.

Jaime raised his eyebrows at her and smiled, amused. Once she had recovered from the aftermath of the news of Lady Catelyn's tragic death, Brienne seemed to have settled almost too well into life at King's Landing. Her recent dry humorous remarks were starting to unnerve Jaime slightly; it was only becoming more evident just how much time they were spending in each other's company.

'Actually, I was being serious,' Jaime said, barely suppressing a chuckle, and he looked at her. 'The blue suits you.'

There was a short silence as Brienne stared at him as if he had gone completely mad.

'Thank you…?' she said eventually, her tone uncertain, and she cleared her throat as she eyed his attire as well. 'This is…lovely.'

Jaime squinted his eyes slightly and tilted his head at her, bemused by her choice of wording. He was Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and as such was wearing the most expensive, luscious suit of armour in the entire Seven Kingdoms. They both knew that 'lovely' was a grave understatement.

The two of them looked at each other for a moment then turned away in synchronisation, slightly flustered. She wished he wouldn't look at her like that, with such intrigue in his eyes; it had been better before when he had glared at her in repulsion. Similarly, Jaime wished her cheeks wouldn't colour the way they sometimes did around him now. He missed her scornful scowls. Besides, they needed to remember to not act too familiar around each other, as it would only make people talk more. It appeared the rumours of Jaime and Brienne being supposed 'lovers' during their time together in the Riverlands had reached the population of King's Landing. They couldn't add further fuel to such mortifying gossip.

'Do you remember that pink thing they dressed you in at Harrenhal?' Jaime asked, if only to fill the silence.

Brienne closed her eyes. 'Don't remind me,' she muttered, and he scoffed.

'You're not interested in any of it, are you? The fancy frocks, being a noble lady,' he said, shaking his head and watching her, fascinated. 'You'd much rather be dressed in armour with myself and the rest of the City Watch.'

'I would,' Brienne replied, and she exhaled deeply. 'But we both know that would never happen. No woman can ever become a knight.'

'You never know what could happen,' Jaime said, shrugging as he turned back to survey the wedding guests. 'The rules might change. I don't see why not. As far as I know, there isn't a woman out there like you.'

Brienne frowned. 'I'm not sure whether to take that as a compliment or another insult,' she said, eyeing him curiously.

'Take it how you like.' His voice was quite short when he spoke, as if he was annoyed with her for calling him out on it.

Brienne took this as her cue to leave. 'I…I should go,' she said awkwardly, taking a few steps away.

'Yes, get yourself a drink,' Jaime muttered irritably.

'I don't drink.'

'What, not ever?'

'No,' Brienne replied, unperturbed by the look of horror on his face.

She didn't like the influence alcohol had on her. She'd had very little experience with it in the past, but she hadn't liked how simply one goblet of wine could dull her senses slightly. A woman like her could never afford to let her guard down.

Jaime snorted. 'No wonder you don't have any friends here.'

Brienne didn't give him the satisfaction of responding; instead she simply flared her nostrils at him, trying not to be too stung by his words, and turned on her heel to try and force herself to mingle with the many guests, nearly all of them hostile strangers to her.

The time seemed to drag on as more courses of food and flagons of wine continued to be brought out and the temperature got steadily hotter and more uncomfortable. Jaime was feeling extremely irritable; he was reeling from a recent heated exchange with that stupid Tyrell boy.

'You'll never marry Cersei.'

'And neither will you.'

He'd had half a mind to storm after him and challenge him to a duel there and then for the sheer audacity of saying such an outrageous thing, but had been distracted by the sight of Brienne walking past him. Strangely, his sudden fit of rage and sadness that had been bursting inside him at Loras Tyrell's comment about never marrying seemed to dissipate. Jaime wished he hadn't driven her away from him earlier; Brienne was the only decent company he'd had all day so far.

He watched with baited breath as Brienne approached the high table to pay her respects to the newly married couple. He noticed the way Cersei's head tilted in intrigue at the sight of this strange-looking woman stood before them, how her eyes lit up in amusement and her lips broke out into that false, dangerous smile that Jaime knew all too well. She was looking at Brienne as if she were a complete joke. Unable to watch, Jaime turned away and began to pace up and down amongst the tables, determined to keep a firm watch on the festivities. He could hear the band playing 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair' not too far from the high table; it hit him with a bizarre feeling of nostalgia as he recalled how Locke and the other Bolton soldiers had serenaded Jaime and Brienne with this song for days on end while they had been tied up to one another. Jaime had found it so infuriating then, but now, for some reason, he found he had grown to like the song.

Jaime turned subtly back to the royal table, deciding that he would wait for Brienne to finish and put herself at a safe distance from the fearful people sat there before going over to talk to her. He was relieved to see that Brienne was bowing her head to Margaery Tyrell in farewell and turning to leave, to put herself at a safe distance. Rather than lingering, Jaime continued to turn and looked at the ground; he didn't want Cersei to notice him looking. He realised he would have to wait a little longer until it was safe to approach Brienne without the risk of those many suspicious eyes from his family members watching.

Exhaling deeply, Brienne strode urgently away from the table and headed down the steps from the podium, trying not to walk too quickly. She was overcome with relief that she had got that over with. The hard part was done now; she had fought her own anger and hatred towards the Lannisters and played her part accordingly, as Jaime had advised her a few days ago. It had been awkward and horrendous and dishonourable and a lie, but still she had done it, for the sake of being able to stay in the city so she could watch over Sansa, as Lady Catelyn would have desired. And now at last Brienne could leave this disastrous affair and retire for the day – after all, social gatherings had never been her thing – and she could return to her bedchamber, she could momentarily free herself of putting on this polite pretence, she could avoid these scheming, treacherous, untrustworthy people –

'Lady Brienne.'

Brienne started and turned. Her heart skipped a beat in fear. Of course it would have to be the one she disliked the most who had approached her. Cersei Lannister.

'Did you just bow?' she had said mockingly merely seconds before, when Brienne had approached Margaery Tyrell and her new husband. Even now she was disregarding Brienne's protests from earlier by addressing her with that stupid title. Cersei smiled as she seemed to read Brienne's mind.

'You're Lord Selwyn Tarth's daughter. That makes you a lady whether you want to be or not,' Cersei said, amused, as she came to a halt in front of her.

Brienne forced a smile and nodded. 'As you say, Your Grace,' she said politely.

It took everything Cersei had in her to keep a welcoming smile fixed on her face. Not only did this beastly woman have an undeniable yet indefinable connection with Jaime, but she'd also managed to successfully defy the gender that Cersei had so valiantly tried to fight against in order to gain the kind of power and respect her father had. Alas, it was not to be. And yet this hideous lumbering creature stood looming over her hadn't let being a woman stand in her way to get what she wanted. It was maddening.

'I owe you my gratitude. You returned my brother safely to King's Landing,' Cersei said, and despite her inexplicable dislike towards Brienne, she couldn't help but mean her words; if it hadn't been for Brienne, she might never have seen Jaime again.

Cersei glanced over at Jaime across the many tables and people. He was already looking over at the pair of them anxiously; she smirked slightly, wondering how long he had been watching them. Brienne turned to follow her gaze, and her eyes met Jaime's. Even from this distance, she could tell he looked wary.

Jaime frowned over at them, his eyes squinting slightly against the ferocious sunlight. He wished he could hear what they were talking about. As far as he was aware, it was the first time in the weeks that had passed since he and Brienne had arrived here that she and Cersei had crossed paths. Jaime found himself overcome with paranoia…and even nausea. Would Brienne somehow slip into conversation that she had nursed Jaime's stump every night, or that she had bathed naked with him, or that he had opened up his heart to her and told her the truth about the day King's Landing had fallen? Would Cersei say something rude and spiteful to Brienne, or threaten her to leave the city?

What was going on?

The small smile on Brienne's face was genuine this time when she turned back around to face Cersei. 'In truth, he rescued me, Your Grace,' she said fondly, innocently lost in memories, and her eyes lowered briefly to the ground as she felt her cheeks begin to warm. 'More than once.'

Cersei stared up at her for a moment, her expression frozen as a strange feeling surged through her – was it fear?

In truth he saved me, Your Grace. More than once.

That was certainly news to her. Cersei would never have believed it if she hadn't known that Brienne of Tarth had absolutely no reason to lie to her. Jealousy was not an unfamiliar emotion to Cersei – after all, women all over Westeros were infatuated by the mere sight of Jaime, how could they not be? – but she had always dealt with it reasonably well in the knowledge that Jaime was in no way interested. But now, with this woman stood here who dared to imply that Jaime had actually cared enough to bother saving her? It filled Cersei with rage.

Nevertheless, Cersei knew she must remain calm, and her voice barely cracked when she spoke. 'Did he?' she asked Brienne, unimpressed, and she forced herself to smile with her teeth…although it quickly disappeared. 'Haven't heard that story before.'

She looked back over at Jaime with a hard expression, the look in her eyes cold and calculating. She was worried now. She could see in his nervous gaze that he felt something for Brienne – gratitude, certainly, but it seemed also respect and affection as well. And he was worried for her, that alone was obvious.

Cersei couldn't understand. Brienne was nothing like Cersei, and she was certainly no beauty. And yet Jaime had apparently saved her numerous times, when before his capture at the Whispering Wood, he would only have ever bothered saving himself or Cersei. So what had changed? What was so different about this woman? Was it because she was brave? Loyal? Honourable? Cersei barely repressed a shudder at the very thought. She didn't know what made this unsightly pitiful excuse of a woman so special, but all she did know was that it meant trouble. Brienne seemed the sort of woman who had the capability of showing Jaime what a devious, twisted person his sister really was. And Cersei couldn't have that.

A flicker of panic momentarily crossed Brienne's face as she realised she might have said too much, that she might have broken an unspoken rule. She was somewhat stunned; was this beautiful woman, Jaime's lifelong true love, somehow jealous of her?! Brienne quickly recovered herself, and forced another warm smile as she tried to backtrack.

'Not such a fascinating story, I'm afraid,' Brienne said, bowing her head, but Cersei wasn't having any of it; she was done with the false courtesies now.

'I'm sure you have many fascinating stories. Sworn to Renly Baratheon, sworn to Catelyn Stark…and now my brother,' Cersei said, and Brienne's face fell as she fearfully watched Cersei struggle to maintain her false smile. 'Must be exciting to flit from one camp to the next…serving whichever lord or lady you fancy.'

Her words stung Brienne deeply. How many other people saw her that way?

'I don't serve your brother, Your Grace,' Brienne corrected her, her voice calm and unconfrontational.

Cersei looked at her, and the false warmth in her eyes disappeared.

'But you love him,' she said, unsmiling.

Speechless, Brienne stared back at her, completely caught off guard. She hadn't expected anyone, least of all Cersei Lannister, to ever even entertain the idea of something as preposterous as that.

Although…was it really so preposterous?

In that moment, as Brienne let Cersei's words resonate in her mind, she was forced to acknowledge that perhaps there was a good reason for Cersei to be so suspicious. It was the first time Brienne had ever really considered such a possibility, and she felt the horror rise in her as she realised what it was she had been beginning to feel ever since Jaime had rescued her from the bear pit.

Could it be true? Could she love him?

Her lips parted and she swallowed slightly, afraid by Cersei's intense, penetrating glare as the two women continued to stare at each other. Brienne simply didn't know what to do. The damage was already done. Cersei had let it be known that she could plainly see what Brienne had been blind to before, and now there was no going back. Even right before Cersei's face, Brienne couldn't try to deny it and she couldn't force herself to lie, for her own self-preservation…and also because she was no good at it. Besides, Cersei had already figured it out; Brienne's silence and the look in her eyes said it all. There was no point in taking the conversation any further.

Cersei's eyes lowered bitterly as the silence continued. The ugly bitch wasn't brave enough to say anything in response, apparently. How fitting.

Eventually, Brienne could stand it no longer. 'Your Grace,' she said quietly, with a slight nod.

She couldn't do the formal exit; she just had to turn away. Anything to avoid that look in Cersei's eyes. Anything to avoid her own embarrassment. Brienne wished she wasn't always this socially awkward and that she didn't frequently run into trouble conversing with these people at King's Landing, but there was no rescuing her from this disaster. She just had to move and put as much distance between herself and Cersei as possible.

Turning firmly on her heel, Brienne looked up to see that Jaime was still watching them urgently, his face creased with concern. Just the sight of him looking at her felt like a slap around the cheek, as if knocking sense into her, chastising her for being such a fool in denying something so obvious, something that had taken someone else merely a minute-long conversation to work out.

Guilt-ridden, Brienne's thoughts went to Renly. She had always accepted that her one-sided love for him would remain until the end of her days, and that would be the end of it. She hadn't expected there would be anyone else…least of all Jaime Lannister. It was such a strange feeling to realise, such a sudden change within her…to look across at Jaime now and see him in a different way. Yes, the sight of him still aggravated her. After all, he was an aggravating man, and always would be. But he had also strangely become one of the most important people in her life. He had become everything to her, in a way. A few months ago, she couldn't wait to be rid of him, and yet now she knew that her life would feel empty and odd if she and Jaime were to part ways. There was no point in denying or hiding the feelings Cersei had helped bring to the surface. Brienne wouldn't be able to conceal it, not to Jaime, and, perhaps most importantly, not even to herself. Though she was determined to try.

She felt her cheeks go red as she looked away from Jaime, severely shaken, and walked away from Cersei quickly with her head bowed.

Jaime saw the flushed, mortified look on Brienne's face, but it was Cersei's expression that unnerved him the most as she watched Brienne stride hurriedly away. Her sneering glare drifted over to Jaime and their eyes met for the briefest of moments. Jaime frowned back at her, burning with curiosity and concern about what had happened – what could have been said between the pair of them to make Brienne blush and scurry off like that, and – even worse – to make Cersei look like she was struggling to keep a fit of rage under control?

Unable to keep her eye contact, Jaime turned away nervously, making a mental note to avoid Cersei for the rest of today. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew deep down that he didn't really need to ask what had been said between the two women in his life to know what it meant. The cold look in Cersei's eyes from afar was telling enough. She knew now that Brienne was more to him than just his former captor-turned-ally, as he had previously insisted upon their arrival.

He sighed anxiously to himself as he frowned around at the happy, drunken guests, wishing he could just abandon his post and chase off after Brienne to check that she was all right. All these weeks, she had been concerned about Sansa's safety here in King's Landing. She had never once stopped to think about her own.

But now Jaime knew, from just a glance at his sister. Brienne was in danger. And he would stop at nothing to make sure that no harm would come to her.

Chapter Text

~ Present Day ~

Brienne's mind was swirling. She felt warm and dizzy inside as she kept throwing surreptitious glances in Jaime's direction, still stunned over what he had done a mere half hour ago. The great hall had become silent once again following the celebratory aftermath of Brienne's knighthood. Everyone felt suddenly exhausted at the thought of what they would soon be facing in a matter of hours, or possibly even minutes.

Jaime looked around and met Brienne's gaze. Her eyes looked tired, but still managed to wear a tender expression.

He put down his goblet. 'We'd better get some rest,' he said heavily.

'No, let's stay a bit longer,' Tyrion protested.

'We're out of wine,' Davos said, returning to his seat.

Tyrion sighed and closed his eyes. He didn't want this charming little group of theirs to part ways. He just wanted them all to remain here, glowing from the wine and the beautiful historical moment of Brienne becoming the first female knight in all of Westeros. If they stayed here together, they could pretend everything was fine. If they stayed here together, they could pretend death wasn't at their door tonight.

'How about a song?' Tyrion suggested, and Jaime tore his eyes away from Brienne and sighed exasperatedly at his brother. 'One of you must know one. Ser Davos?'

'You'll pray for a quick death,' Davos replied, and Tyrion chuckled.

'Ser Brienne?' Tyrin asked, raising his eyebrows hopefully at Brienne.

Brienne couldn't help smiling as she slowly shook her head. Ser Brienne. It was so bizarre to be called that. And so heart-warming as well.

Her smile faded slightly when she saw that Tyrion had turned his attention to Tormund. She exchanged a horrified look with Jaime, but then were both overcome with relief when Tormund shook his head with a firm grunt.

'Mmm…' Tyrion grumbled, disappointed, and he leaned back in his chair.

And then, out of nowhere, Podrick began to sing.

'High in the halls of the kings who are gone

Jenny would dance with her ghosts,

The ones she had lost and the ones she had found

And the ones who had loved her the most…'

Brienne's expression softened as she watched Pod, full of affection and warmth him. She had heard him sing before, but only when he'd thought no one had been able to hear. His voice was so comforting, the song so haunting and yet so appropriate for this dark night that awaited them. She looked slightly to the side to find that Jaime's eyes were already on her.

It was such a wonder for Jaime to realise that he was in love with this woman. His thoughts drifted as Podrick continued to sing, burning with curiosity; how long had he felt this way about Brienne? Why hadn't he wanted her before? Why had he denied it for so very long? And why only now was he no longer afraid to hide it, when they would soon be forced to leave this room and venture out into the unknown to face their ultimate end on the battlefield?

'The ones who'd been gone for so very long

She couldn't remember their names,

They spun her around on the damp old stones

Spun away all her sorrow and pain,

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave…'

* * *

Brienne never wanted to leave. But she knew she must. For Sansa, and her late mother. And for Jaime.

The past hour had gone by in something of a blur, ever since the moment she had joined Jaime in the Lord Commander's quarters and been given her quest. Now here she stood on the outskirts of the city walking towards their agreed meeting place with what little remained of her belongings, and a new mission to start.

A part of her wanted dearly to stay here beside him in King's Landing. Brienne wasn't an idiot; she knew that, in the aftermath of Joffrey's brutal murder, this city was probably the most dangerous place to be in all of Westeros right now. But she also knew that this meant Jaime would be caught up in it – after all, it was his monstrous family that was at the centre of all this – and he wouldn't be safe. Brienne wasn't sure what she feared being in danger more – his life or his newly-recovered sense of morality. If she left him here with these manipulative people, would they turn him back into the arrogant, uncaring, rude man she had first met?

Something told her, as she strode across the bridge to meet him in her new suit of armour and carrying her new sword, that perhaps not.

Jaime was waiting for her in a clearing under a vast canopy of trees, with two horses and two men she recognised vaguely from the city; she had seen them a couple of times following Tyrion Lannister around the Red Keep. Of course, they no longer had their little lord to traipse after now that he was locked up in a cell. A wide path lay ahead of them – the road out of King's Landing. The road that she would soon be on, taking her far away from this frightful place. Away from Jaime. Brienne suppressed a swallow at the thought.

She dumped her belongings down on the dusty ground and looked up at Jaime. He looked proud as he surveyed the armour she wore.

'It…it fits perfectly,' Brienne said, perplexed. 'How…did you know the right measurements?'

Jaime shrugged airily. 'Lucky guess.'

Brienne's expression faltered momentarily as she felt herself begin to blush. He must have paid a lot more attention to her in that bath a few months ago than she'd previously thought.

'I requested for a…well, some blue colouring in the armour as well, as a symbol of Tarth,' Jaime said, stunning Brienne even more. 'I hope that's all right.'

He'd also requested the blue so that it would complement those astonishing eyes of hers, but he couldn't say that to her. He could barely even admit it to himself.

'It's…wonderful, Ser Jaime,' Brienne replied, slightly dazed. 'But it must have cost you a great deal, I'm not sure when…or if I'll ever be able to repay-'

'You owe me nothing. It's a gift,' Jaime insisted, his tone firm. 'It's the very least I could do.'

The very least? It took a great deal of effort on Brienne's part not to frown in utter bewilderment at him. He had practically given her couture, when she'd hardly done anything in return, at least not much that she could be overly proud of – the golden hand fixed onto his right wrist was a constant reminder of that. She didn't seem to realise that Jaime was thanking her in the only way he knew how, not just for her bravery and companionship and for bringing him back to his home, but also for how she had brought out a side in him that he had thought long lost. Over their time together, Brienne had made him feel like he could be somewhat good again. And that was something no amount of gifts or gold would ever be able to repay.

He noticed Brienne then look over his shoulder curiously to survey the two horses that were stood waiting.

'Oh, yes. There's the horse as well – this one's yours,' Jaime said casually, indicating the horse on the right.

Brienne's eyebrows shot up her forehead. This was too much.

'How many gifts do you normally give?' she asked him, flummoxed.

'Well…this is the final one,' Jaime replied, trying not to appear too flustered, and he stepped to the side to hold his hand out impressively to the incredibly young, innocent-looking man stood smiling cheerfully beside him. 'Meet Podrick Payne. Your very own squire.'

Brienne was baffled. Only knights had squires.

She walked closer towards them both as she looked the young man up and down. 'I don't need a squire,' she said dismissively.

Jaime turned to Podrick in mock offence; Podrick's smile disappeared at once. 'Of course you do,' Jaime said reprovingly, his tone cheerful as he turned back to Brienne.

'He'll slow me down,' Brienne replied.

'My brother owes him a debt – he's not safe here,' Jaime explained in a slightly lowered voice. 'You'll be keeping him from harm. It's chivalry.'

Brienne frowned at Jaime; since when had he cared about the welfare of random squires? Who was this man?

'I won't slow you down, ser,' Podrick interjected.

Both Jaime and Brienne tilted their heads at him. Really?

Podrick looked anxiously at Jaime, then turned back to Brienne. 'M-milady,' he corrected himself unsurely, and Brienne turned, unimpressed, to Jaime. 'I promise I'll serve you well.'

'See?' Jaime said to Brienne hopefully, raising his eyebrows at her. 'He's a good lad. You'll get along.'

He was trying to keep the mood light-hearted, to save him from the realisation that he was saying goodbye to this woman, possibly for forever. But Brienne didn't seem to want to reciprocate his jolly mood. She looked away from him reluctantly, resigned to the fact that she had no choice in the matter of this squire. Yes, she was sure once she had got used to her new travelling companion she would be fine. They would probably end up getting along, eventually. But still. He wasn't Jaime.

She tried not to dwell on this as Jaime's other companion, Bronn, gifted Podrick with Lord Tyrion's axe from the Blackwater. Soon enough, Podrick had gathered up Brienne's belongings that she had dropped on the ground and went over to ready her horse.

Jaime slowly walked over to Brienne, closing the distance between them. Both of them suddenly felt rather emotional, although it shocked them that they would feel so strongly. His expression unusually warm, Jaime opened his mouth and then closed it again, not knowing what to say, and simply came to a halt and let himself take a moment to drink in the sight of her. He was resigned to letting his guard down now. This was it. No more teasing.

He had become accustomed to having Brienne of Tarth in his life. He had enjoyed her presence here in King's Landing, as much as he hated himself for thinking it. She had made the transition into this new phase of his life a little less painful. She had been his support throughout it all since they had arrived here at the city gates, just as he had been hers. And now it was all going to fade away, just like that. This time tomorrow, she would be miles away, never to return. It would be the end of a chapter in his life; a chapter that he found himself cherishing deeply. He hoped he was doing the right thing…but they both knew that what he was doing was bordering on treason. He was defying his family completely by sending Brienne to find and protect Sansa, who Cersei wanted dead, with the Valyrian steel sword his father had given him. Nevertheless, despite his sister's grief and his father's wishes, he was doing it anyway. To fulfil his oath, and to protect Brienne. She needed to be far away from the dangers of his family…even if it meant he would never see her again.

Standing there before one another with nothing left to say but farewell, both Jaime and Brienne felt their mouths go dry. Something had changed between them. They couldn't explain it, nor could they deny it. They had a deep emotional connection, something that Jaime and Cersei had never had. He would miss that terribly. He would miss her terribly.

Jaime glanced down at the sword he had given her. 'They say the best swords have names. Any ideas?' he asked.

Brienne glanced down at her sword as well, deep in thought, then after a few moments looked back at him. The scars he had acquired during their captivity in the Riverlands looked more prominent with the sun shining on his face. But still, he was exquisitely handsome. She might never see that face again after today.

'Oathkeeper,' Brienne replied.

Jaime's lips parted slightly as he gazed back into her eyes, too stunned for words. He felt a strange surge of relief; she knew he was constantly referred to as an oathbreaker, but by the name she had chosen for her sword, she was absolving him and freeing him from his troubled past. She was showing him that he could be the true and just knight that he had always wanted to be. She was promising to redeem Jaime in his place, to keep both their oaths to Lady Catelyn. And it meant everything to him.

He lowered his eyes for a brief moment, too overcome with emotion, then once he had recovered himself he looked back up at her and nodded, trying to show his appreciation for her touching gesture. Jaime was surprised to see that there seemed to be tears forming in her eyes as she gazed back at him, and the features on her face softened. She looked almost as upset as he felt. A lump rose in his throat.

Jaime wanted to say thank you. He wanted to say that he had learned so much and changed so much because of her, that she would be with him now and always, no matter where she went. But all he could manage was:

'Goodbye, Brienne.'

Brienne pressed her lips together slightly as she tried desperately not to cry…although for once, she didn't really care if it made her look pathetic. This was a sad moment in her life, as much as it surprised her, and she would not pretend otherwise. Her chin wobbling slightly, she gave Jaime a quick nod and then averted her gaze. She knew if she said anything back to him, the tears would begin to fall and it would become even harder for her to leave, so she remained silent as she walked away from him towards Podrick and her new horse, her head bent low.

Jaime stayed staring at the ground for a moment, as if paralysed by the shock of how choked up both he and Brienne were by this. He'd always known that they would have parted ways eventually, but he'd never expected that it would be this…heartbreaking. But he knew, even though neither of them wanted to leave one another's company, that they could not stay with each other.

Swallowing, he slowly turned back and watched as Brienne climbed up awkwardly onto her horse. Frowning curiously, he walked forward as she and Podrick set off.

He had no expectation that Brienne would actually find Sansa. The girl was most likely dead by now, along with her younger sister Arya. But he needed to occupy Brienne with this quest, even if it was an impossible one, to keep her out of the brutal game of politics his family was entangled in. It was the only way he was able to protect her.

He felt emotionally broken as he watched her begin to ride away, and it slowly sunk in at that moment how a part of him wished he could go with her.

To Jaime's surprise, Brienne then turned around for one last look at him as her horse continued to trot on down the path that led out of King's Landing. Her face was turmoiled, her gaze desperately sad and full of regret. Jaime tilted his head at her as he watched, frowning slightly, as he began to see the feelings in her expression that she had been so desperately trying to conceal since the day of Joffrey's death. He was shaken by how truly upset she appeared by their separating; he had never once expected that the grumpy Brienne of Tarth he had first met would have been in any way troubled by their parting of the ways. Then again, he'd never thought he would have felt equally as miserable by it either.

Brienne turned her face away from him quickly, her bottom lip quivering as she continued to fight back the tears, and it was this that made Jaime realise just how much she cared. She didn't want to leave him. This revelation shook him deeply. His lips parted, dazed, as he watched Brienne and her squire ride off down the path into the sunset. Although he hated himself for it, Jaime couldn't help wondering if the emotions stirring inside him were more than just platonic affection and respect for the loss of his friend today. Was he experiencing…feelings? Romantic feelings? He wasn't sure.

But oh yes, he was. He couldn't lie to himself anymore. He was sure, even if he would never let himself address it or even process it in his mind. He did feel romantically for Brienne, as much as this prospect confused him. There was just nothing he could do about it.

His face filled with struggle and longing as he felt his heart fall to pieces at the sight of her leaving.

Bronn cursed loudly from behind, exasperated as Jaime continued to stare wordlessly into the distance, still intent on watching Brienne leave.

'Were you fucking her or somethin'?' Bronn blurted out abruptly.

More irritated than he was embarrassed, Jaime slowly turned around to face him, his expression cold. 'Have you forgotten who you're talking to?' he asked in a low voice, unimpressed.

'Nope,' Bronn replied airily, shrugging, and he grinned. 'Just don't care.'

He sauntered away then, realising Jaime wasn't in the mood to talk and needed to be left on his own for a moment.

Blinking rapidly and swallowing, Jaime turned back to watch Brienne depart, inexplicably hoping that she would look back to him again. But she didn't; it was too painful for her. Jaime sighed deeply. He knew that, even as the sight of her grew smaller as she rode further away, Brienne would never truly leave him. She would still be a part of everything he did. She would still be his inspiration. His moral compass. The voice of lightness in his head. After all, after everything they had been through together…how could she not be?

* * *

~ Present Day ~

'They danced through the day

And into the night through the snow that swept through the hall,

From winter to summer then winter again

'Til the walls did crumble and fall,

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave,

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave…'

A comfortable silence fell as Pod finished his song. The assembled group stopped gazing at the fire and turned to face him, strangely at peace.

'That was beautiful, Pod,' Brienne said gratefully to her beloved squire.

'Mm-hmm,' Jaime murmured in agreement, nodding and smiling fondly over at Pod.

'I never knew you could sing,' Tyrion said, stunned, and Pod smirked. 'You are always full of surprises, Podrick.'

After another pause, Davos then cleared his throat. 'We really should get some rest,' he suggested wearily.

Tyrion opened his mouth at once to protest, but this time he was outnumbered as everyone got up to their feet. He leant back against his chair miserably; Jaime hesitated to remain behind with him, feeling sorry for his brother, but with a sharp jerk of his head, Tyrion indicated to Jaime to follow Brienne, who was dawdling slightly as she slowly made her way out into the castle corridor. Nodding gratefully at Tyrion, Jaime strode after her.

He caught up with her quickly, but neither of them could find the words to say as they walked side-by-side down the dark, freezing corridors.

They were both still rather dazed by what had transpired between them in the great hall, Brienne especially so. Jaime had upset thousands of years of tradition for her, because he believed in her. Just the thought of the way he had looked at her when she'd risen to her feet still made Brienne's heart lurch forward. She had doubted for so very long that Jaime could ever return her affection. All her life she had been so intent on focusing solely on her service as an honourable warrior, and had never sought out something for herself that she couldn't have; instead she'd simply ached for it in silence, trying to convince herself that she hadn't really wanted it…because it was impossible for her to have it.

But becoming a knight had also been an impossible dream. Perhaps the notion of Jaime ever loving someone like her was not so impossible after all. He had brought her walls down today, she could feel it. He had made her hope. He had made her joyful. He had made her feel respected, a concept very rare to her. And yet now their time was nearly up…they would be facing unknown terrors outside these very walls very shortly.

They would most likely not survive beyond tonight. Now was the only opportunity they had to say anything they wanted to. Brienne so dearly wanted to open herself up to the possibilities of exploring this complex relationship with the handsome man walking tentatively beside her, but she was frightened. She couldn't risk what they already had. What if she'd got it wrong? Nevertheless, supressed feelings aside, at least she had the comforting fact that during this battle they could be finally acknowledged as a united front; they were no longer aiding one another in secret, but instead fighting on the same side. Together.

Jaime swallowed nervously as they walked on, the rattle of their armour echoing loudly along the corridors. 'How are you feeling?' he asked her.

'Tired but…ready to get on with it,' Brienne replied. 'You?'

'Same.'

She raised her eyebrows at him. 'You don't wish you were in King's Landing?'

'No. I'm right where I want to be.' His voice was low and gentle when he spoke.

Brienne looked at him, shaken by his tender tone, and felt her lips part at the way he was gazing at her. The two of them looked at each other for a moment that seemed to last much longer than a moment, before blinking rapidly and turning away.

'Thank you. For knighting me,' Brienne said in a gentle, sincere voice, though she was unable to look at him, and Jaime smiled at her. 'Truly, I…there are no words…-'

'It was the least I could do, after what you did for me earlier today,' he murmured.

Brienne frowned slightly. 'I have to ask…what you did back there…was that because of what I said at the trial?' she asked, reaching out her hand to touch his arm. 'Because I never expected you to…feel the need to…repay me in any way-'

'Oh, Brienne,' Jaime interrupted, bringing them both to a halt as he reached out for her arm as well.

Brienne swallowed, nervous by the way he spoke her name with a sense of almost familiar intimacy, by his casual touch, by the intensity of his gaze. Jaime sighed deeply and shook his head at her, as if exasperated. A small, fond smile fell on his lips.

'I didn't knight you because I felt like I owed you. I knighted you because you are the most deserving, honourable person I know,' Jaime said, making Brienne's heart soar, 'and because this has been your dream for as long as you can remember. You're an excellent warrior and…I don't know anyone more worthy of the title.'

The way she was looking at Jaime in such astonishment made his smile grow. She shone in his eyes. It was funny to think of how they had started out being so disgusted by one another, and yet had now turned into the most beloved person in each other's lives. Strangely though, Brienne was no longer ashamed by this fact; she didn't want to hide it anymore or pretend that he meant anything less to her than she truly did. After all, it was because of Jaime that she believed in herself for the first time.

Brienne averted her gaze from his, flustered. 'You're too kind.'

'There's something neither of us thought you'd say when we first met.'

She looked at him, saw the amusement on his face, as if he knew she'd been reading her train of thought, and a soft chuckle escaped both their mouths. It stunned Jaime; for months during their time together after leaving Harrenhal he had tried making her laugh to no prevail. To see Brienne like this now made him feel warm and full inside, and he knew he couldn't keep it to himself.

'You've never smiled like that before. Back in the hall,' Jaime noted, vividly recalling the heart-warming mental image of her beaming away moments after he'd knighted her.

Brienne hesitated. 'Well I've never been…that happy,' she murmured truthfully.

Happy. It was a strange word, one she didn't use often, and an even stranger concept.

'I can relate to that,' Jaime said, as they both continued to walk on down the corridor together. 'I haven't been truly happy in years.'

'Would you like to be?' Brienne asked, her voice tremoring slightly with nerves. 'Happy?'

'I would. It's all I've wanted for a long time now,' Jaime replied, stunning her, and he sighed heavily. 'But I don't expect I'll get a chance for that, with the battle…I'm rather doomed tonight, I'm afraid.'

Suddenly Brienne found herself deeply irritated, and she rounded on him. 'Well you are with that foolish attitude. Where's your pride? Your ego?' she snapped, and Jaime's eyes widened in bemusement. 'Tonight's the time you need to go back to the mindset of your golden-lion days. You're still a skilled warrior, even without your sword hand. So don't you dare give up now. Do you understand?'

'Yes, Commander,' Jaime said at once, impressed.

Brienne tilted her head almost threateningly at him. Jaime smiled at her, an almost cheeky glint in his gaze, before eyeing the beautiful hilt of her sword protruding from her armour. He took a step closer to Brienne.

'You know, I realised something earlier. You and I will be fighting with two halves of the same sword. Ned Stark's sword, in fact. Defending his castle together. It's very fitting, don't you think?' he said, almost flirtatiously.

'Yes, it is,' was all Brienne could say; she hadn't been expecting Jaime to close the distance between them like that.

'Oathkeeper has served you well.'

'You never once regretted giving it away to me?' Brienne asked, as they continued to walk on up the steps towards the bedchambers.

'Not once,' Jaime murmured, smiling at her. 'It was always meant to be yours.'

Brienne wasn't so sure about that. The sword had been originally his after all, and Jaime had more than proved that he was worthy of it. By keeping his word to the Starks and by fully acknowledging Brienne's honour and bravery, Jaime has finally become the honourable knight he'd been struggling to be his whole life.

'You never told me how you acquired the sword of Lord Stark,' Brienne said curiously. 'A Valyrian steel sword like this…there can only be ten of those at most in the world, I'd say…'

'My father had it forged for me,' Jaime replied simply, and he chuckled at the shocked look in Brienne's eyes. 'Relax. I didn't like my father in the end. I found it strangely satisfying to defy him. And you needed a good sword much more than I did.'

There was a stunned pause. Brienne had stopped walking; the door to her bedchamber stood just a few metres down the narrow corridor.

'Thank you, Ser Jaime.'

'You're welcome. Ser Brienne,' Jaime added, the corner of his lips twitching slightly as she blushed, humbled and pleased by the sound of her new title.

'Anyway, I should…go to my chamber…' Brienne then said awkwardly, gesturing her door.

To his utter mortification, Jaime felt his cheeks go red. 'Y-yes, of course. I won't keep you,' he said, backing away at once. 'I'll see you later…when…when they arrive.'

They nodded at each other and Jaime then turned and walked away back down the corridor to find Tyrion downstairs. No doubt he would still be in the great hall, staring into the fire.

Brienne watched as he walked away. She glanced unsurely to the door of her bedchamber then back to Jaime's retreating figure, her lower lip trembling slightly as she tried to breathe deeply. She spoke out before she'd even had time to consider what she was doing.

'Jaime.'

Jaime paused and turned back to face her. She had never addressed him without his title before. It made him smile. In fact, he realised in that moment that, despite their impending doom, he had smiled more upon his arrival at Winterfell this morning than he had in all those years he'd spent with Cersei at King's Landing since Brienne had returned him from Robb Stark's camp.

'Why did you come to Winterfell? Really?' Brienne asked, her voice loud and clear, and Jaime's smile faltered slightly. 'You…you still haven't said.'

There was a pause as the two of them simply gazed at each other from across the opposite sides of the corridor. Jaime swallowed nervously, but Brienne refused to look away. She needed to hear him say it. She needed to know for sure.

And then, at last, he spoke.

'You know why.'

Brienne felt herself release the breath she had been subconsciously holding in, and her trembling lips parted into what Jaime was sure was the formation of a half-smile. Jaime's irresistible, tender gaze was what gave her the courage to move her feet forwards, and then she was slowly walking towards him and then –

The three horn blasts.

Brienne halted in her tracks and she looked out of the castle window, horrified. It was the signal. She could see armour-clad men gathering their weapons below. Clutching Oathkeeper, she looked up at Jaime and met his gaze of terror.

The dead were here.

Chapter Text

The yard seemed surprisingly calm as Jaime made his way out of the castle to locate his brother. Women and children were being directed to the crypts, while anxious soldiers were marching on towards the fields surrounding the castle. The night was deadly silent, with only the sounds of nervous breathing and armour clanking filling the frosty air.

Jaime felt his hand twitch worriedly as he thought back to the panicked look in Brienne's eyes when she's turned to face him after the horn blasts.

'Pod! Sansa-!' she'd begun anxiously.

'Go!' Jaime had urged. 'Find them – I'll meet you out there.'

'What about you?' she'd asked, her tone desperate.

'I need to see Tyrion. I'll join you and the rest once I've…said goodbye,' Jaime had replied, his voice breaking on the last word.

Brienne had looked at him beseechingly for a moment, her chin wobbling in fear, before giving a sympathetic nod.

'I'll see you soon,' he'd reassured her, putting a hand on her shoulder. 'Go, find Pod and find Sansa, see that she's safe.'

And with that she had given his arm a grateful squeeze and then hurtled off down the corridor to find her beloved lady and squire.

Jaime concentrated on exhaling deeply and evenly as he walked on through the yard, looking around hopefully for some sign of his small brother. He couldn't go out to battle without seeing him for one last time. At least he could be reassured that Tyrion would be safe in the crypts. He almost wished that Brienne could be there with him, but that would have been folly – Brienne's place was at the front of the battlefield, in command. Those soldiers on the left flank wouldn't last long if she wasn't there taking charge and leading them into the fight.

He would not let the terror of his predicament consume him, Jaime decided. He had made his choice. He was honouring his pledge. He was helping defend the living. And, most importantly, he was fighting alongside Brienne of Tarth.

'You don't wish you were in King's Landing?'

She had sounded so doubtful, so uncertain, so wary when she had asked him that, as if scared he would say yes. Clearly she didn't fully understand the turmoil in his mind that had been ongoing since the moment she had departed King's Landing with her new armour and sword to find Sansa so long ago.

In truth, Jaime hadn't wished to be in King's Landing for years. Ever since he had returned from his capture after the Battle of the Whispering Wood, the city that he had once called home had felt foreign to him. The only thing that had kept him there all this time had been his undying devotion to his monstrous sister. But, at last, he had broken free of that.

He had not one single regret for what he had done. Indeed, the moment Jaime had decided to come to Winterfell had been arguably the wisest decision he had made in years. He may well die at the hands of an animated corpse tonight…but at least he knew he had done the right thing.

* * *

'I don't believe you.'

As he spoke those words, Jaime knew it was one of the most pivotal moments in his life. One that would change the course of his future. One that would lead him down a greater path. One that should have happened a very long time ago, if only he hadn't been too blind to see it.

'I always knew you were the stupidest Lannister,' Cersei had spat scornfully, merely minutes earlier. 'The Starks and Targaryens have united against us, and you want to fight alongside them? Are you a traitor or an idiot?'

Jaime had been horrified, but mainly perplexed, by Cersei's attitude. He would have perhaps doubted himself if Brienne's fierce words from earlier hadn't been ringing insistently in his ears.

'This goes beyond houses and honour and oaths.'

Oh, Brienne. What a complication her presence here had been.

He had done nothing more than stare at her for the duration of the summit at the Dragonpit, a million questions burning in his eyes, hardly daring to believe that she was really there. Ever since the notorious Battle of the Bastards that had taken place in the North, Jaime had been plagued with guilt and worry. He had let her sail away the last time he'd seen her at Riverrun…what if he'd let her go to her death? If he'd gone after her and captured her, as he had been duty-bound to do, she could have been safe. But no, he'd let her head back to Winterfell, where thousands of people then later died at the ruthless battle in its grounds. He had prayed for her survival once he'd heard what had happened – and Jaime very rarely prayed, not when the gods had been so unkind to him in this life – and assumed (or rather desperately hoped) that Brienne hadn't perished at the battle because of the fierce, strong warrior he knew her to be. But still, he'd spent months despairing. He'd even been tempted to send a raven to Winterfell, to ask after Brienne's welfare, but knew he couldn't – Cersei would have found out. She had spies everywhere, after all.

So it had been an overwhelming relief to see Brienne stood there under the canopy at the Dragonpit; it had been his first confirmation that he hadn't sent Brienne to her death by letting her escape Riverrun.

She's alive, he had thought ecstatically, she's all right.

And yet he had also been filled with anger and fear at the mere sight of her; what was she doing here in this dangerous city where Cersei ruled? Cersei, who loathed Brienne as the one woman who intimidated her.

Still, Jaime knew he couldn't let Cersei's hatred of Brienne deter him now. He needed to persuade his bitter, twisted sister. He needed to make her see reason. And if Brienne's words could shake him enough to make him do just that, surely he must try and do the same for Cersei.

'This isn't about noble houses, this is about the living and the dead!' Jaime insisted.

But Jaime might as well have been speaking to a brick wall for all the good it did him. She heard none of Brienne's wisdom, none of her logic, none of her fierceness. Cersei was blinded by her own toxic need for the Iron Throne. She couldn't see beyond that silly chair.

As Cersei continued to talk nonsensically and Jaime tried urgently to implore her to change her mind, he could feel suddenly that something had changed within him. Perhaps he had changed a long time ago, but something was different today. Brienne's presence at the Dragonpit today had awoken that change inside him. It had reminded him of the person she had helped him become…and of the other person that Cersei depended on, the person he no longer wanted to be.

'I pledged to ride north. I intend to honor that pledge,' Jaime said firmly.

'And that will be treason.'

Jaime took in the scornful, hateful expression on Cersei's face as she glared at him, and realised in that moment that she had become a poison in his life, one he had grown so used to that he'd considered it normal – right, even. He'd once loved the rush of it, the addiction, the thrill, but now he was seeing her true colours. She didn't care about any of it – the oaths, the people, the lives of all the innocents who would join the Army of the Dead unless they honoured their pledge and helped. And he'd played a part in her destructive path. He'd been by her side these past few years, blindly supporting her and never questioning every immoral decision she made.

But no more.

When Cersei gave Mountain the signal to draw his sword, Jaime felt himself break inside. He couldn't believe what she was doing…that she was threatening to have him executed right here on the spot.

'Are you going to order him to kill me?' he asked, his tone sceptical and baffled; he had never once thought that she'd actually meant it…and yet there Clegane was, his sword out as he blocked Jaime's exit, waiting for Cersei's final command.

Jaime felt himself sink deeper into a pit of despair, trying to blink away tears of betrayal as he turned in disbelief to his sister, unable to look her properly in the eyes anymore. Without their children alive, Cersei was unhinged, a monster, focussed on nothing but power. He no longer recognised the person she had become. He loved her, he did and – as much as he loathed himself for it – he probably always would, no matter what, but she was not the Cersei he knew. And she was breaking his heart, and condemning the lives of everyone he had sacrificed his reputation and oath to protect.

'Fuck loyalty,' Brienne had said.

And that was exactly what he was going to do. He was done with playing the rules of Cersei's stupid game.

Jaime cast Cersei a look of utmost disdain as he gave her a slight shake of his head, suddenly no longer afraid to meet her furious glare. 'I don't believe you,' he said.

And with that he turned, stepped around the Mountain and walked away. He heard Cersei's footsteps as she began to follow him, but then she stopped, and remained silent. No doubt she couldn't believe what he was doing; part of Jaime couldn't believe it either. But for the first time in a very long while, Jaime didn't feel uncomfortable or ashamed or nauseous by his set course of action. This felt right. It even felt a little triumphant.

To his bemusement, Jaime felt himself begin to smile as he marched hurriedly up to his quarters and recalled Cersei's smug words. 'I told you no one walks away from me.' Oh, how wrong she had been.

Once in his quarters, he began to panic slightly as he removed his Lannister armour and collected his belongings, but none of Cersei's guards came after him.

She must have known, Jaime thought. She must have known I meant it. I'm leaving for good, and there's no point in trying to stop me.

He changed into plain garb and found an old travelling cloak, along with the necessities for his ride north. There was no point in delaying his travels any longer; besides, it wasn't like he was welcome here in the city anymore. He had betrayed his queen, and had a pledge to uphold. All that remained to him was to go to the one place he could think of: Winterfell. It was miles and miles away, and would take him at least a months' ride – assuming he wouldn't come across any trouble on the road – but he would willingly travel that length and risk that danger as long as he could arrive at the one place he needed to be: the place where Brienne of Tarth resided. He only hoped he would be there in time before the Army of the Dead arrived.

No one stopped him as he rode out of the Red Keep grounds and left through the gates of King's Landing. No one followed as he rode up the hillside to leave the capital for good and join the kingsroad to head up north. The city was silent, cold and lonely as he rode further and further away; all Jaime could hear was a light chilly breeze, the distant waves of the sea, and Brienne's words from earlier ringing in his ears.

He came to a halt on top of the hill, struck by how miserable and grey it had suddenly become, and covered up his golden hand, the mark that made him a Lannister, with a black glove. That was when he noticed a a speck of snow land on it. The Starks had been right: winter was here.

As Jaime looked around in awe at the light snowflakes beginning to fall all around him, he then turned to take one last look at the city he doubted he would ever see again. The Red Keep looked so small. From this distance, the fear and hold of his sister could no longer control him. He was breaking free at last, and it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders as he came to this realisation. For the first time in his life since giving Brienne Oathkeeper, he was finally being true to himself.

He didn't know where this path would take him. Yes, the kingsroad would eventually reach Winterfell, but what then? What would he do? What would he say? Would he be wanted, or turned away? Would he die defending his enemies against the Army of the Dead, or at the hands of Daenerys Targaryen and her fearful dragons? All he knew was that, uncertain as his fate was that lay ahead of him, Brienne would be on the other side. He could rely on that at least.

And so Jaime Lannister then turned his back on King's Landing and rode away on his horse, down the dusty path towards the kingsroad while the snow continued to fall.

I'm free, he thought blissfully.

He never looked back.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

Jaime found Tyrion stood under an archway of the castle in the courtyard, watching with a forlorn expression as everyone finished making their preparations for tonight's battle. He looked almost timid as he watched helplessly from the shadows, although his fearful expression changed to that of relief as he caught side of Jaime crossing over the courtyard to him as fast as his armour would allow.

'I'm surprised to see you here,' Tyrion noted. 'I thought you would be with Ser Brienne and her force on the battlefield by now.'

'I wanted to see you before I went,' Jaime replied.

'Not for an emotional farewell, I hope,' Tyrion said with raised eyebrows, and Jaime faltered.

'W-well I…'

But Tyrion was smiling. 'A joke. I was coming to find you as well, as a matter of fact. I wasn't sure where you'd got to after you hurried off after our new knight,' he said, and a playful glint flickered momentarily in his eyes. 'That was an honourable thing you did back there, for Ser Brienne. You broke the rules in doing it, you know.'

'To hell with the rules,' Jaime said dismissively. 'Man or woman, it doesn't matter. Anyone should be able to be a knight if they deserve it.'

'Spoken like a true…' – Tyrion trailed off, not knowing how to finish his sentence, and chuckled in bemusement – '…well, not a Lannister, that's for certain.'

The two brothers exchanged a smile, though their faces quickly fell as they turned to watch the remaining children being ushered hurriedly down to the crypts, and their fathers bidding them tearful farewells before marching on to join the rest of the armies lining up to defend the castles' walls. A solemn silence fell between them both.

'So…what is one supposed to say to one's brother when facing likely imminent death?' Tyrion asked, unable to look up at Jaime.

Jaime exhaled deeply; this wasn't going to be easy. 'I wish I knew,' he said heavily, and he then turned to face Tyrion. 'Look, Tyrion, if I don't make it-'

'No, Jaime, don't-'

'If I don't make it,' Jaime insisted, and he sighed. 'I know you're not on Cersei's side anymore. I'm not either. Maybe you're right, maybe the Targaryen girl would make a better ruler. But please, whatever happens…don't let Daenerys execute her. Try to dissuade her. Imprison Cersei, banish her to somewhere far away, I don't care…just don't kill her. For the sake of the baby, if not for her.'

'I'll do my best,' Tyrion promised solemnly. 'If it's any comfort, I don't want her dead either. She may be a monster, but she's still our sister. And we'll always love her.'

Jaime nodded grimly. Unfortunately we will. 'The curse of being a Lannister, I'm afraid,' he said. 'And…one more thing…for if things should go south for me during this battle.'

'Name it,' Tyrion said, trying but failing to stop his voice from wavering.

'If Daenerys does take the Iron Throne,' Jaime said sombrely, trying not to dwell on this concept, 'I urge your first piece of counsel to concern the appointment of the Lady Commander of her Queensguard.'

Tyrion frowned and tilted his head at him. 'Lady Commander?'

'You don't know Brienne – Ser Brienne – like I do, but trust me when I say she would be the best person for the role. Far better than I ever was, and any other knight I've known,' Jaime replied, and Tyrion nodded, his expression softening. 'I would like my old quarters and belongings to be given to her as well, should Brienne want the position. This is all hypothetical, of course…assuming I won't live through to see the end of the war.'

'And assuming I will?' Tyrion said sceptically.

Jaime smirked. 'You've escaped death numerous times, little brother. I'm sure you'll be fine,' he said airily, but then a crease appeared in his forehead as he gazed earnestly down at his brother. 'Just…promise me you'll take care of Brienne. And Podrick. Please.'

Tyrion nodded slowly as he stared up at his beseeching brother. 'Who is she to you?' he asked, frowning up at him dazedly. 'Really?'

There was a pause. Jaime was lost for words. There was no simple response to such a complex question.

He sighed, though a slight smile flickered briefly on his lips. 'I wish I could answer, but there's not enough time for that,' he said, looking around anxiously.

'No, indeed there's not,' Tyrion agreed, understanding. 'The dead are almost upon us. And you're sure you still want to fight for Winterfell? On the frontlines?'

Jaime nodded firmly. 'I am.'

'Then…farewell, brother. And good luck,' Tyrion said, grasping Jaime's hand and clutching it tightly. 'I know you'll be all right.'

'No, you don't,' Jaime muttered, giving his hand a squeeze before letting go. 'You haven't seen me fight properly since I lost my sword hand.'

'No. But I've seen Ser Brienne training these past few days,' Tyrion said, his lips twitching. 'She's as good a fighter as you ever were, back in your glory days.'

Jaime smiled proudly. 'I know.'

She was even better than that. In Jaime's mind, Brienne was the best fighter in all of Westeros.

'She'll make sure you'll be all right,' Tyrion said confidently. 'I'm certain of it.'

Jaime rolled his eyes, trying not to appear too pleased at Tyrion's assessment. 'You have too much faith in her affections for me.'

'Do I? Really?' Tyrion asked in a mocking tone, raising his eyebrows.

Jaime opened his mouth but realised he had nothing to say. His eyes then fell on the remaining soldiers hurrying people outside and shouting commands.

A lump rose in his throat. 'Go on,' Jaime said urgently to Tyrion. 'You need to go to the crypts.'

'I don't want to hide down there like a coward,' Tyrion protested, scowling.

'Your Queen commanded it. That's not cowardice,' Jaime reassured him, and before he knew what was happening he had leant down to embrace his brother in a fierce hug. 'I'll see you on the other side.'

'I truly hope so,' Tyrion said, trying to keep his voice under control as he buried his head in Jaime's shoulder and gripped him back tightly.

Jaime then let go and leaned away, though he was unable to meet his brother's bloodshot gaze. 'Goodbye, Tyrion,' he said, and with that he turned and left the yard.

He was still blinking away his tears as he hurried through the crowd of soldiers and knights and smallfolk assembling on the field. It had been tough saying goodbye to Tyrion, knowing that it was most likely going to be their last conversation, but necessary. He had set his affairs in order. All he had to do now was fight as best he could against an army of dead men while protecting the woman he loved. How hard could that be?

The soldiers were lining up in their positions as Jaime joined the force on the left flank; he pushed his way through them all, knowing their commander would be right at the front. Even in the blackness of the night, he could make out her tall impressive figure in the distance, her soft, curly tufts of blonde hair blowing in the wind. The sight of her filled him with relief and a strange sense of comfort, despite their present situation. When he finally reached her, having budged a few other knights out of his way, she was busy speaking in a low, firm voice to Pod beside her. The panic that had flickered across her face earlier in the castle at the sound of the horn blasts had now disappeared; Brienne's face was determined, the look in her eyes fierce. If she was as afraid as Jaime and Pod and the rest of these men felt, she hid it extremely well.

When Brienne turned to see Jaime suddenly standing there at her other side, her expression faltered and she looked at him in confusion, half-relieved and half-horrified. 'What are you doing?' she demanded abruptly.

Jaime glanced around awkwardly; he'd been hoping, after their last encounter, that she might have greeted him with more tenderness than hostility. 'I'm…waiting for the dead to arrive. I was told to expect them here,' he said, trying to keep the mood as light-hearted as possible.

'No, I mean…what are you doing stood here?' Brienne asked exasperatedly. 'You shouldn't be at the front-'

'Well thank you for your faith in my fighting abilities!' Jaime snapped, trying not to be too insulted. 'Weren't you the one who said to me back inside that I was still a skilled warrior?'

'Yes and I meant it,' Brienne said earnestly, sounding irritated, 'but you said yourself you're not as good as you once were, you should be further behind-'

'No, I can't do that,' Jaime interrupted firmly, while Pod watched the arguing pair nervously. 'Unless you're commanding me to do so, in which case I'll be forced to obey but I can't move to the back-'

'Why not?' Brienne said impatiently, perplexed. 'No one would think any less of you, after what you risked to come all this way, so why-?'

'I'm not leaving you!'

The words came flying out of Jaime's mouth before he had time to consider them. He'd spoken loud enough for what felt like the entire army to hear; the stunned silence that followed certainly seemed like it had. Pod took a few awkward steps to the side, his eyes wide. Brienne simply stared at Jaime with her mouth open, shocked. He exhaled deeply but did not look away; life was too short for him to be embarrassed now.

'That's why,' Jaime said calmly, his gaze flickering back and forth between her startled eyes and her armour. 'So I'd very much like to stay, right here. If you wouldn't mind.'

There was a slight pause as a gust of frosty wind blew their hair back. Eventually, Brienne found it in her to speak.

'I don't need your protection, Jaime,' she said, her voice much softer and less annoyed than before. 'I have Pod. I have Oathkeeper.'

Jaime tilted his head at her, his expression tender. 'I know that. You are more than capable of fending for yourself. But I also know that, all golden-lion ego aside, I'm still unlikely to make it through this battle alive,' he said heavily, 'and I don't want to spend my last hours next to men I neither know nor care about.'

There was another silence as Brienne gazed back at him, her jaw set, her eyes wide. He wanted to be here on the frontlines with her because he cared about her. But didn't he understand that she wanted him to be way behind at the back of the force because she cared about him? It was no use arguing, however; even if she was technically his superior on this battlefield, she saw him as her equal, and she knew how stubborn he was. He wouldn't be sent to the back without putting up a fight, and Brienne refused to fight with Jaime Lannister anymore.

Eventually, she gave him a reluctant nod. 'Stay close to me,' she said in a quiet yet firm voice.

Jaime nodded gratefully. Always.

They were silent for a while the rest of the left flank force lined up and joined them to wait. Jaime asked Pod how he was doing, and the two men offered each other words of encouragement and determination while Brienne watched them both in pleasant surprise. Although there was much to fear, Brienne didn't feel that afraid anymore. With Jaime and Pod stood either side of her, her heart felt full. They were both here, and in the shared glances the three of them exchanged, she knew they would all try to keep each other safe. And she knew that Jaime would remain close.

He would never desert her. Never.

Brienne was determined to stay focussed and keep her eyes fixed firmly on the black empty space in front of them so that she would be ready for the first sign of the White Walkers, but Jaime had other plans. He had never been one for coping well with tense silences, as Brienne well remembered from their early days travelling back to King's Landing together years ago, and she rolled her eyes in amusement as, sure enough, Jaime cleared his throat and began to speak.

'Ahh…who would have thought it? The two of us, fighting side by side,' he said wistfully, his sly tone almost that of the old Jaime she had first met. 'We fought each other once.'

'Yes,' Brienne replied, her tone almost smug. 'I beat you.'

'You did not-'

She silenced him with a look.

A hint of a smile flickered on Jaime's face. 'Very well. You beat me.'

'How much did it hurt to say that?' Brienne asked, her lips twitching, as she kept her eyes fixed firmly ahead of them.

'In truth, not much at all,' Jaime admitted. 'You were a worthy opponent.'

Brienne raised an eyebrow. 'That's certainly not what you thought of me at the time, as I recall.'

'No. I did admire you in some ways though,' Jaime said amicably, and Brienne scoffed.

'Piss off.'

'I did!' Jaime insisted. 'I remember the first time I saw you use a sword.'

At this, Brienne looked around at him, intrigued. 'You do?'

'Hmm,' he replied with a slight smile. 'Very well, in fact. I was impressed.'

'Oh, shut up, you weren't-'

But Jaime cut over her bemusedly. 'Do you really think I'd admit to that if I didn't mean it?' he pointed out. 'I didn't think I'd have to remind you who it was that just bloody knighted you earlier tonight.'

Red in the face, Brienne opened her mouth to retort back but before she could say anything they were interrupted by an angry shout from behind them.

'Will you two shut the fuck up!'

Startled, both Brienne and Jaime turned around to face the grumpy knight who had snapped at them. He looked both terrified and agitated. Brienne glanced awkwardly at Pod; he grimaced at her.

'My apologies, ser,' Brienne murmured humbly to the knight; she'd forgotten just how irritating her and Jaime's bickering could be to others present.

Exchanging a half-wary half-amused glance, she and Jaime turned back to face the open battlefield as the wind and frost only continued to grow stronger in the wintery night air. The two remained diligently silent, their lips twitching slightly as they found themselves lost in distant memories of a time long past, a time when only hatred and irritation had bloomed between them…at least until the moment Brienne had drawn out her sword to defend Jaime for the very first time.

* * *

Jaime was bored. Desperately bored.

At first he had enjoyed being out on the river, even though it was his captor he was forced to be with. After over a year locked up in a cell covered in mud and faeces and surrounded by an army of Northern men who wanted him dead, he finally felt at peace out here, drifting along down the calm waters, with the sunlight and the trees and the birds. He could even overlook the scowling face of the horrid woman sat opposite him as she rowed. Brienne of Tarth didn't talk unless he was fed up enough to provoke her into snapping back at him with some sour retort, and that had suited him just fine initially. But now he was so infuriated by her tedious company that he found himself wishing that he had a somewhat better captor, one at least more inclined to make conversation.

He tried to amuse himself by goading her into letting her guard down, but the way he antagonised his captor only led to more snappy dismissive insults from Brienne, who was plainly annoyed that Jaime was incapable of keeping quiet. Jaime was fascinated yet also very irritated as the two of them continued to bicker while they rowed along down the river; he had never met anyone like her before. He usually had a talent for reading people and spotting their weaknesses, but no matter how hard he tried he just could not get through to this bizarre creature. She didn't even have a sense of humour. He'd found this bemusing at first, but it had been a few days since they had left Robb Stark's camp now, and her serious nature was becoming exasperatingly dull. The sooner he broke free of this grumpy woman's clutches and found the quickest way back to King's Landing, the better. He needed to be back with Cersei. He needed to be back home.

'You really are no fun, are you?' Jaime was saying as he readjusted his position on the skiff, trying to get more comfortable; they hadn't stopped in many hours; and lounging lazily on the boat in chains was making his back ache worse than ever.

'Did you expect me to be?' Brienne muttered, not looking at him as she concentrated on the river ahead.

'I hoped there might be more to you, I admit. But you really are just one big ugly woman with no personality, aren't you?' Jaime said, chuckling.

Brienne barely flinched, though her grand gripped the oar more tightly. 'If you say so.'

'I say so because you've done absolutely nothing to prove me otherwise since your beloved Lady Stark released us the other day,' Jaime said frustratedly. 'Tell me more about you! I can't bear it silent, it's maddening.'

'Why should I waste my breath talking to the likes of you any more than I have to?' Brienne snarled, casting him a dark glance.

At this, Jaime groaned loudly. 'Oh, here we go again,' he said exasperatedly, glaring at her. 'Back to despising me for no good reason-'

'I have plenty of good reason,' Brienne interrupted sharply, 'as does everyone who has ever heard of you in the Seven Kingdoms.'

Jaime raised his eyebrows at her in mock offence. 'Well. That's quite harsh for a lady to say.'

'That's where you've misjudged me, Kingslayer,' Brienne said, 'I'm no lady.'

'Believe me, I did not misjudge that. I already knew that from the moment I laid eyes on you, it was quite a ghastly shock,' Jaime said, and Brienne turned away from him, her nostrils flaring angrily, as she continued to row. 'Forgive me if I offend you, my lady, but you seem unbothered about courtesies yourself where I'm concerned, so I only mean to reciprocate your manners.'

'Don't worry,' Brienne muttered dryly. 'I couldn't care less what you say or think about me.'

'Perhaps you should. Then people might like you more if you care. Though I doubt you've had many people like you over the years,' Jaime said, watching her thoughtfully. 'Must be lonely, to be such a dull joke of a woman. If you stopped being in such a foul mood all the time, you might make a friend one of these days.'

It was amusing, to watch her glower and wince at every insult he threw her way. Jaime found it strangely satisfying.

'Though let me guess – you're not one for making friends, are you?' he went on. 'You prefer your own company. Ahh, solitude and misery…what loyal companions they must be.'

'Do you ever shut up?' Brienne snapped.

'Afraid not. Not when I have someone to talk to after all this time. Or rather, talk at. Gods give me strength, you won't give me anything to go on, will you?' Jaime said exasperatedly.

'I'm not here to entertain you, Kingslayer-'

'Well thank the gods for that, you'd do a horrendous job of it-'

'If you're bored, talk to the trees or the river,' Brienne suggested bluntly, and Jaime's lips twitched.

'You intend to make a madman of me while we journey together? In all fairness, you've already driven me halfway there,' Jaime muttered. 'And what about you? Surely you can't mean for us to travel for months without speaking a word to one another. Don't you long for human conversation? To feel normal for once? If someone like you can ever feel normal.'

Brienne frowned at him as she steered the skiff slightly to the left, where a rocky shore awaited them. 'You don't know a thing about me. Stop acting like you do.'

'I could say the exact same thing to you. Perhaps we should get to know each other before passing judgements. How does that sound?' Jaime suggested.

'It sounds terrible.'

'I couldn't agree more, but how else shall we pass the time?' Jaime pointed out, but then he smirked playfully. 'I could think of a few things, actually.'

Brienne rolled her eyes as she rowed them nearer to the shore. 'Vulgarity and insults won't get you anywhere with me, Kingslayer.'

'I'm very curious to know what will,' he said slyly, but then he winced as the skiff came to an abrupt halt.

Brienne forced him out of the boat; Jaime stumbled slightly, his legs still incredibly weak from a lack of walking during his imprisonment with the Starks, but then managed to straighten himself up before he could embarrass himself in front of her.

'Stay,' Brienne ordered him, as she walked back to bring the skiff onto shore.

Jaime frowned. 'I'm not a dog, my lady.'

'If only you were,' Brienne muttered under her breath, dragging the skiff up onto the rocks.

Jaime looked around at their surroundings briefly; a path lay ahead of them, leading them into a forest. He wasn't sure whereabouts they were, but was confident that Brienne had good knowledge of the land, and she was smart enough to avoid the kingsroad where they would be seen. As much as he wished to be rid of her, he could at least admit that she was doing her job well. So far, at least.

'You're a virgin, I take it?' Jaime asked.

Brienne was mortified by his impertinence, but ignored him. 'Walk,' she snapped, turning back to him and shoving him roughly forwards.

Amused, Jaime glanced back awkwardly at her as he walked ahead. What a stupid question. Of course she's a virgin. She's a highborn and hideous to look at, how could she not be?

'Childhood must have been awful for you,' Jaime said as they walked, his tone almost sympathetic. 'Were you a…foot taller than all the boys?'

Brienne didn't answer, and kept her head down glumly as she marched on after him, her bulky amour clunking loudly as she went. Why must he make him relive memories she had so determinedly repressed? Why must he talk to her about her life at all? She didn't want to think about her past, not now, not ever, and especially not to this revolting man.

'They laughed at you, called you names?' Jaime went on, wincing slightly as he stepped up onto the path. 'Some boys like a challenge. One or two must have tried to get inside Big Brienne.'

'One or two tried,' Brienne muttered without thinking as she followed, tugging on his rope to make sure he was securely fastened.

'Ahh!' Jaime said gleefully, and he chuckled slightly as he turned back to face her, delighted that she was finally engaging; Brienne shoved him ahead irritably. 'But you fought them off!'

He loved to antagonise her so. Only a few days in, and it was fascinating to see her react so differently to any other woman he had met before. She didn't seem to care one bit just how unusual she was.

'But maybe you wished one of them could…overpower you, fling you down, tear off your clothes,' Jaime said teasingly, glancing back at her; she was avoiding his eye contact, focussing instead on the path ahead of them. 'But none of them were strong enough.'

There was a slight pause as they walked on.

'I'm strong enough,' Jaime added tantalisingly.

But Brienne paid no attention to the suggestive flicker of his eyebrows and wicked grin. 'Not interested,' she replied, her eyes wide as they stared up at a tree that awaited them.

Jaime seemed almost offended. 'Of course you are!' he insisted. 'You'd love to know what it feels like to be a woman.'

He turned eagerly back to face her, intrigued, but Brienne's face had gone ghostly pale, her stubborn expression disappeared. His face faltered, wondering what had got her so spooked, and he turned to follow her gaze. His lips parted in understanding: the bodies of three girls were hanging from a tree branch up ahead.

'Ah. "They lay with lions",' Jaime said, reading from the wooden sign attached to their bodies as he and Brienne slowly approached. 'Tavern girls, I'd say. Probably served my father's soldiers. Maybe one of them gave up a kiss and a feel…that's how they earned this. The glorious work of the Northern freedom fighters. Must make you proud to serve the Starks.'

'I don't serve the Starks,' Brienne replied shortly, her tone and expression that of disgust as she stared at the girls' bodies. 'I serve Lady Catelyn.'

Jaime tilted his head. 'Tell yourself that tonight when they swing in your dreams.'

His words angered her; her jaw jutting out furiously, Brienne shoved him to the side of the leaf-covered path, and marched him over to a nearby tree.

'What are you doing?' Jaime asked as she slammed him roughly against the trunk.

'Burying them,' Brienne replied gruffly, as she began to tie him to the tree.

'We shouldn't stay here, we should get back on the river,' Jaime protested, wincing as she secured him, but Brienne ignored him and left him there as she walked back over to the dead girls. 'I think these women would understand if-'

'I don't care what you think,' Brienne cut over him coldly.

She marched over to the ropes that kept the bodies swinging up there from the branch, but before she even had time to withdraw her sword and cut them down, she heard the sound of distant voices. She looked up, alarmed; three men were approaching from the other end of the path.

Panic flooded Jaime's face for a moment, until he realised that this was a golden opportunity. He leant forward from the tree trunk, struggling against his bounds, and cast Brienne a desperate look.

'Untie me. Now!' he said urgently; no matter her size and her attire, there was no way this beastly, awkward, naïve woman could be that good of a fighter.

But Brienne ignored him and instead stepped forward, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword; after all, there was no point in trying to hide from these men. The three strangers were Northern, by the sounds of their accents, and were arguing about a dagger one of them had lost. Their bickering came to an abrupt halt the moment they caught sight of Brienne, and Jaime tied up to the tree beside her.

'Whoa! What's your business here?' one of them demanded, as they all looked over Brienne and Jaime suspiciously.

'Travelling a prisoner,' Brienne replied.

The man instantly burst out laughing; the other two followed shortly after. 'You're a woman?' he said incredulously, smacking his companion on the chest.

'A woman!'

'Well, fuck me!'

Brienne simply stared at the ground and suffered in silence as the three men continued to laugh at her. Jaime watched her from where he was bound against the tree, and a strange feeling flooded through him – was it sympathy? He could tell, despite her empty expression, that she was hurting.

Brienne took a deep breath. 'If you've quite finished up-' she began bravely, but she broke off as the men roared into yet more uncontrollable laughter.

Her bottom lip trembled slightly. Brienne was used to being seen as a joke to everyone around her, but it still pained her every time something like this happened. She wished the Kingslayer wasn't here to witness this. No doubt he would tease her for it relentlessly afterwards.

Jaime looked down, ashamed; why couldn't these rude bastards just let her talk?

'All my life, men like you have sneered at me,' she had said to him. Well, she wasn't wrong.

For the past few days, Jaime had tried to get into Brienne's head by teasing her about being a woman, but now that he could see just how she was treated regularly by other men, it filled him with guilt. He kept his head down; he could mock her, but he couldn't stand to see others mocking her.

Having had enough, Brienne then strode over to Jaime. 'All right, we'll be going,' she said, moving to release his bounds.

'Whoa. Whoa!' the first man then said; he and his companions had suddenly managed to bring their laughter under control, and they walked over to her and Jaime. 'Who do you fight for?'

'The Starks,' Brienne replied, as she began to untie Jaime from the tree; Jaime kept his face directed away from them in the hope that they wouldn't recognise him.

'What did he do?' another man asked, pointing at Jaime.

Jaime looked up at Brienne, trying to work out what she was planning. His eyes bored into hers, and Jaime realised then that it was the first time their eyes had made contact without them quickly looking away from each other in disgust. Her eyes were blue, he noticed. Piercingly blue.

'Apparently eatin' is now a crime,' Jaime said, putting on a gruff, Northern accent. 'Who knew-?'

'No, stealing is a crime,' Brienne cut over him sharply, as she continued to untie him.

'But it's not a crime to starve?' Jaime argued back incredulously. 'That's justice for yeh.'

He kept his head bent low, and refrained from smiling. He was impressed that the two of them could improvise with each other after only a few days, and very little contact on Brienne's end. Was this what one would call…bonding? Jaime made a mental note to tease her about this fact later on, should they make it through these Northern men. Hopefully they would either see sense to let them pass, or Brienne would make the right decision to cut him loose so that he could defend them both.

'Where are you taking him?' one of the men asked.

'To Riverrun,' Brienne replied.

'Why Riverrun?'

'Steal from the Tullys, it's their dungeons you rot in,' Brienne said.

Jaime remained silent. She was good at concocting lies on the spot, this one.

'Why not kill him?'

'For stealing a pig?!' Jaime blurted out incredulously.

'I don't give the orders,' Brienne answered exasperatedly. 'He must be important to someone.'

'Sending him with you? How important could he be?' the first man asked sceptically, a cruel smile on his face.

Brienne turned to face him, trying hard to keep her usual scowl off her face. This man in particular was beginning to make her lose her temper.

'All right. Have it your way…my lady,' the man added scornfully.

Relieved, Brienne gathered Jaime's bounds…but then one of the other men approached Jaime curiously.

'Do I know you?' he asked, frowning.

Jaime was glad his dirty long hair was blocking his face. 'Have you been to Ashemark?'

'No.'

'Then you don't know me.' He realised too late that he hadn't kept up the ridiculous accent he'd put on earlier; instead he spoke in his normal voice.

'Do you ever go to the river market at Salt Rock?' the man questioned.

Jaime paused in mock thought. 'Is it near Ashemark?'

'No.'

'I've never been there,' Jaime replied, and he had never felt more grateful for Brienne's firm hold as she led him away from the tree and they began to walk back down the path the way they'd come.

'What do you think of these beauties?'

Brienne brought them both to a halt, and she cast a glance back up at the girls' bodies swinging hauntingly from the tree branch.

Oh, shit, Jaime thought.

'I hope you gave them quick deaths,' she said in a monotone voice.

The first man nodded at her smugly. 'Two of them we did, yeah.'

Brienne glared at him for a moment, hatred raging inside her, then turned scornfully away and pushed Jaime roughly forwards. But then the second man spoke up.

'Wait. I do know you!' he said accusingly, and he pointed a finger at Jaime; both he and Brienne closed their eyes briefly. 'That's Jaime Lannister!'

Brienne felt her heart skip a beat in horror.

Jaime scoffed as he tried not to panic. 'I wish someone had told me, I wouldn't have had to steal that pig!' he said mockingly.

'If this is the Kingslayer, I think I'd know about it,' Brienne said, casting them all cynical looks.

'How do you know what the Kingslayer looks like?' the first man asked his companion.

'I was at Whispering Wood, I saw him!' the second man insisted, as Jaime forced a laugh. 'They dragged him out of the woods and threw him down before the King.'

'He's not the Kingslayer, sorry to disappoint you,' Brienne said calmly, gathering up Jaime's bounds more firmly and jabbing him forwards again. 'If he was, I'd only be travelling his head.'

'I have a question for you both,' the first man then said, forcing them both to stop walking as he pointed at them. 'And I want you to answer it at the same time. I count to three, you both answer.'

Infuriated now, Brienne slowly walked around Jaime to glare furiously at the three Northern men. Jaime frowned at them as if they were being ridiculous. He appreciated Brienne's firm hold on his arm, though he wasn't sure if she had any idea how they were going to get out of this with him still in his restraints. She wouldn't have a chance against these men if it came down to it. She needed to set him free now. Why was she being so stubborn?

'What's his name?' the first man asked, frowning at them both suspiciously.

Jaime's lips parted as the man began to count down.

'One…'

Jaime slowly turned around to look at Brienne; her eyes were already on him.

'Two…'

Jaime and Brienne exchanged an intense look. Now what?

Despite their predicament, there was an almost smug smile playing on Jaime's lips, as if he was glad to prove her right. After all, he couldn't help feeling this was her fault. She should have released him from his manacles, like any sane person with a brain would.

'Three.'

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Brienne bashed her shoulder into Jaime, pushing him roughly to the side; the force of her movement and the heaviness of her armour nearly sent Jaime falling to the ground but, floundering slightly, he managed to keep upright and watched with his mouth open as a scene unlike anything he had ever expected unfolded before him.

It appeared that Brienne of Tarth had decided to take matters into her own hands. In merely the blink of an eye, Brienne had drawn her sword and slashed at the throat of the third man, before seizing his own sword and striking the second man with it.

Alarmed, Jaime's head jolted back as he looked on in shock. What in seven hells is going on?!

The men fought back but their attempts were feeble in comparison to Brienne's impressive skills. She roared out angrily as she slashed at them with her sword, and with his hands tied, all Jaime could do was watch from the side, awestruck, as they fought.

Who was this woman?

Within seconds, Brienne had cut down two of the men and they fell easily to their deaths. The sight was terrifying and yet also, to Jaime's horror, strangely arousing. Breathless, Jaime stared open-mouthed at Brienne as she turned away from her victims to the last man who remained alive: the first man who had initiated it all. Blood dripped off her sword, and she wore an expression of fury and loathing like nothing Jaime had ever seen before. He sincerely hoped she would never look at him like that; if she did, he would know that the end was nigh.

The first Northern man was wounded and struggling to get up from the path. Brienne bitterly threw his companion's weapons away; they landed with a loud clatter as she withdrew her other sword and stood over him.

'Two quick deaths?' she said, glaring at him.

The first man squirmed in fear, but it was too late; with a scornful look of vengeance, Brienne plunged the sword slowly into him. Jaime watched on, frozen. He didn't blame her for killing him cruelly; he had led the rape and hanging of three innocent women, so he deserved it. But still, he had not expected it of her. He had not expected anything he had seen just now in this past minute. It had been so quick, so sudden…and now it was over.

'All my life I've been knocking men like you into the dust.'

Brienne hadn't even struggled. She wasn't even injured. Instead she stood there exhaling deeply, humble in her triumph. She had fought and killed three male soldiers without so much as a scrape. It only made Jaime more intrigued to know this woman.

Brienne and Jaime took a few steps towards each other, silent. Brienne was rather breathless and worn out. Jaime was still stunned. Fascination filled every feature of his face as he looked from the dead men back up to Brienne.

'Those were Stark men,' was all he could think to say.

Brienne was wearing her usual scowl as she turned to face him, panting. 'I don't serve the Starks. I serve Lady Catelyn. I told her I'd take you to King's Landing, and that's what I'm going to do,' she said firmly, and she looked him up and down disdainfully. 'Stay.'

This time, Jaime didn't protest. She could order him about all she wanted, if she could fight like that with a sword. He watched her, mesmerized, as she strode over to the ropes and cut the dead girls down from the tree. They landed on the ground with a heavy thump, making Jaime flinch. At least Brienne had got vengeance for them. He wondered if he would have done the same thing, back in the days of his youth when he had tried to be an honourable knight…if he had ever managed to achieve such a thing.

Realising they weren't going to be departing this part of the forest anytime soon, Jaime sat down wearily on the path amongst the three dead men. As he watched Brienne dig the graves for the girls, he found himself beginning to admire her. The fact that she clearly despised him only made him more attentive.

He cleared his throat. 'Well, Lady Brienne, I feel like this might turn out to be a very interesting journey with you after all. My spirits have been lifted,' Jaime said, but Brienne merely looked at him with a hateful frown; his face fell wearily. 'No doubt you will drag them down again by the end of the day, you seem to have a knack for it.'

Brienne said nothing; she was too focussed on her task at hand, although secretly she was very pleased that she had defeated those men in front of Jaime. Perhaps now he wouldn't doubt or mock her abilities.

Jaime tilted his head at her as he watched. 'Do you need any help with that?' he offered half-heartedly.

'How do you propose to do that while you're in chains?' Brienne demanded sceptically, and she raised her eyebrows at him. 'Let me guess, you want me to free you?'

'This pointless job would be done much quicker with two. You've got quite a few more graves to dig than initially planned when we first got here, wouldn't you say?' Jaime pointed out slyly, looking around at all six dead bodies that littered the ground, and he grimaced. 'Besides, we need to get a move on, we want to avoid coming across any other people.'

'Why? Are you afraid they'll somehow beat me?'

Jaime smiled; he liked her confidence. 'You know, you and I are more alike than you'd care to admit,' he said, and Brienne's nostrils flared as she continued to dig.

'You and I are nothing alike, Kingslayer.'

'Well of course, we are parallel opposites in terms of looks, but other than that…we're both skilled fighters – I won't deny that in your case, now – and we've both been accused of slaying our kings.'

At this, Brienne rose instantly to her feet, abandoning the graves she had dug, and rounded on him furiously. 'How dare you? Do not compare your treacherous crime to something I did not and would never do. You broke an oath. And that is why I'm nothing like you.' She spat the words.

Jaime flickered his eyebrows at her. 'So you wouldn't like it if I called you 'Kingslayer' as well? Now you know how it feels-'

'Only there's a difference,' Brienne snapped, her voice shaking with rage, and she marched right up to him and forced him to his feet, where she held him roughly by his cloak. 'You killed your King. You murdered him in cold blood. I did no such thing.'

There was a tense silence as she glared at him. He had been looked at with scorn and disdain by many for most of his adult life, ever since the Sack of King's Landing, but for some inexplicable reason it bothered him now that Brienne looked at him that way too. Her words pained him too, to his astonishment.

'Don't provoke me,' she said in an almost frighteningly quiet voice. 'You saw what I did to those men.'

'I did indeed. It was very exciting,' Jaime said truthfully, his lips twitching.

The way she held his cloak tightly around his neck as she confronted him was uncomfortably straining, but he enjoyed the close proximity of their faces. It was amusing to see every miniscule twitch of her expression, every flicker of anger and irritation in her nostrils and mouth and eyes. And what stunning eyes they were.

Brienne sneered at him. 'You wouldn't say that if you were on the other end of my sword,' she said.

'Oh I'm not so sure about that,' Jaime said.

His tone of voice and look in his eyes were flirtatious in a way that Brienne had never encountered before. She felt rather flustered, and suddenly wished she wasn't holding him so close to her. She didn't like that smug twisted smile on his lips or the playful glint in his eyes.

'Are you threatening me, Lady Brienne?' he asked, tilting his head at her.

'I'm warning you. Stay out of my way, and stop being an absolute pain in my arse,' Brienne snapped, and she shoved him away and turned to get back to the graves. 'The sooner you behave the sooner we get you back to the capital and we never have to deal with each other again, thank the gods. Now hold your tongue and don't speak another word while I get on with this.'

Jaime smirked and nodded. 'As my lady commands.'

Brienne paused and shot him a stern glare.

Jaime held his hands up defensively and backed away. 'My apologies. I'll be silent,' he promised in a mocking whisper.

She stared at him wearily for a moment and then, with a deep sigh, turned back to the graves; Jaime smiled the moment she turned away.

He had a newfound respect for this woman. He had just watched her kill three hostile men with no help from him at all. And she was now taking the time to bury those women. It filled him with wonder.

Jaime didn't really know who Brienne of Tarth was, but he was determined to find out.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

The Dothraki horde and Ser Jorah were getting ready for the charge. Everyone else was in position. The night was dark and cold and filled with unknown terrors and frightened men, women and children.

It was time…and yet, deep down, no one was ready.

Brienne glanced anxiously at the man beside her as the wind blew his scruffy hair back dramatically. 'Are you sure about this?'

'What do you mean?' Jaime asked her with a frown, turning away from the black empty mist ahead of them to meet her gaze.

'You left the safety of King's Landing and came all this way for…for this-'

Jaime interrupted her with a dry chuckle. 'It's a little bit late for changing my mind now.'

His calm tone and expression unnerved her. 'You're not afraid you made a mistake?' Brienne asked.

'No, Brienne, I'm not afraid,' Jaime said, and he smiled at her. 'I'm with you.'

Chapter Text

The night had suddenly come alive with fire. Jaime nodded with a slight surge of hopefulness as his mesmerized gaze followed the flames dancing to the side of him, Brienne and Pod. All the soldiers watched, stunned, as the Dothraki swords continued to light up around them. Perhaps they had a chance at beating the dead after all.

'Have you ever seen anything like it?' Brienne murmured to him, dazed.

'No,' Jaime replied. 'Never.'

He had never once believed in any kind of magic or sorcery. He had openly laughed at those who preached about the Lord of Light. And yet now what he was seeing before his very eyes contradicted everything he had stood by.

'It's incredible,' Brienne whispered.

Jaime looked at her, the expression in his eyes softening; the flames shone quite a flattering light on her, and then it hit him. 'I've just realised…is this your first proper battle?' he noted, surprised.

'It is. Pod and I didn't make it in time to join the fight when they took the castle back from Ramsey Bolton,' Brienne replied, and she gave him a dry look. 'Why, do you think I should have tried to practice in some other battle before leaping straight into this one?'

'No. You don't need it,' Jaime reassured her, and she reciprocated his small smile.

'Milady. Look,' Pod then murmured at her other side.

Brienne and Jaime turned; the Dothraki were riding off into the vast unknown that lay before them to greet the Army of the Dead.

The battle had begun.

It was an impressive sight, the horde charging ahead, cheering confidently, with their flaming swords while the catapults began to launch from behind. Jaime and Brienne remained silent this time as they watched. They had liked the comfort of one another's words since lining up on this battlefield, but, whether out of fear or awe, neither of them could find anything to say now that the first move had been made against the White Walkers. Brienne exhaled deeply as the Dothraki finally reached the enemy waiting menacingly ahead in the darkness, her chest puffing out in hope and determination.

But then the Dothraki's roars of courage that had been so encouraging before had suddenly turned to yells of despair.

Neither Brienne, Jaime, Pod or anyone else could see what was happening – the Dothraki were far away now, and all the light that remained in this black night was that of their flaming swords. But the swords were being struck down. They were disappearing before their very eyes, the lights flickering out one by one. Pod let out a shaky breath as the sight before them grew rapidly quieter and darker. He could no longer pretend he wasn't fearful; the moment the White Walkers were done wiping out the Dothraki, they were coming straight for the rest of them.

Jaime and Brienne slowly glanced at each other and exchanged a knowing look of horror. The situation was helpless. They could do nothing but watch the Dothraki get annihilated…and wait for the onslaught.

This is it, they both thought, terrified. The end of the line. We're finished.

All too soon, the attack was done, and it was clear who had won. There was no triumphant roar. There wasn't a single burning sword left in sight. Only a few injured victims remained; they rode back towards the castle in a hurry to get away as quickly as possible, their faces alive with panic and terror.

There was nothing but silence. And darkness. Never-ending darkness.

Jaime and Brienne were both dismayed. The Dothraki horde, once a legendary terrifying story during their childhoods, had been stopped in the blink of an eye and simply vanished before them, as if they had never been there at all. The Army of the Dead had done that. And if Dothraki couldn't stop them, who in this world could?

An inaudible shaky breath escaped Jaime's mouth as he stared with wide eyes ahead of him. He couldn't see the dead bodies of the Dothraki, or the army of White Walkers approaching. But he could hear them. He could sense them. They were coming closer towards Winterfell. It was only matter of minutes, maybe even seconds, until they reached them.

Jaime glanced back at Brienne as she drew out Oathkeeper, the sword that meant so much to both of them. He knew then that it was no use. He couldn't keep it in any longer.

Without looking at her, Jaime let out a deep breath. 'Brienne, there's something I need to tell you-'

'No there isn't,' Brienne cut over him sharply, staring firmly ahead as they awaited the approaching Army of the Dead.

Jaime looked offended, and he rounded on her. 'Excuse me?'

Brienne closed her eyes briefly as she clutched tightly onto her sword, her heart racing. 'I don't want you to say anything you wouldn't say if we didn't have an army of dead men charging at us,' she said, her voice shaking ever so slightly as she kept her gaze fixed determinedly ahead of them.

Jaime's expression softened and the merest shadow of a half-smile appeared on his face as he tilted his head sympathetically at her. 'Understood, my lady,' he said.

They fell silent again, though in the mere seconds it had taken them to exchange a few words, the night seemed to have become less quiet. The White Walkers sounded wild and out of control…almost animalistic. They sounded like monsters. And they sounded extremely close. Brienne so dearly wished she could just see them coming. All that lay before them was mist and frost in the black air. The corpses were practically invisible in this darkness…but they were almost upon them.

She glanced over at Jaime; he was about to reach into his hilt to pull out his own sword. Before he could, she slowly reached out. Brienne hesitated, but then let her gloved fingers brush slightly against his tentatively before she could change her mind. She wanted to feel his touch, even if it was miniscule, before the horror they would be facing so very soon. Jaime closed his eyes as the warmth flooded through him, wanting just for a second to forget what was about to happen. He was glad; he had chosen to stand at this side of her for this very reason. He hadn't wanted to hold her hand with his gold Lannister one. Ever so slowly, Jaime intertwined his fingers with Brienne's, and he squeezed her hand softly.

They had never held hands before. Well, there was a first time for everything. And a last.

Brienne felt a tear well up in her eye. The noise of the oncoming Army of the Dead was only getting louder. She glanced over at Pod; they exchanged a nod. She then turned to Jaime. He was already gazing at her; even in this darkness, she could see that his eyes were slightly wet too. The thunder of the White Walker's running footsteps and blood-curdling shrieks were only getting louder.

She managed a small, sad smile at him. 'It's time,' she whispered.

'Then go on,' Jaime murmured encouragingly, giving her hand another firm squeeze before reluctantly letting go.

Brienne nodded at him and stood slightly to the front as she held her sword up high, ready to give the command. She could almost see their shapes scurrying towards them now. Fear clenched to her heart.

They were here.

'STAND YOUR GROUND!' Brienne roared fiercely, as Jaime crouched slightly and drew up his sword.

And then the dead charged right into them.

They piled on top of them all: terrifying, grotesque corpses that were very much alive and full of energy as they burst out from the black frosty mist and attacked in one huge wave. Brienne moved almost gracefully as she and her soldiers immediately sliced at them with their various dragonglass spears and swords. Jaime was overwhelmed by the sheer force of the charge, and was knocked down to his feet almost at once. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he struggled up quickly to his feet while bodies – both alive and dead – slammed into him.

It was utter pandemonium. So many had been killed already before they even knew what had happened.

The fighting was eerily quiet on the side of the living, or if there were any yells or cries from the soldiers, they were drowned out by the snarling and hissing and shrieks of the White Walkers.

But that didn't stop Jaime from hearing Brienne's yell of agony that rent through the air.

Stabbing a wight out of his way, he looked up in horror at the sound; a wight seemed to have charged directly into Brienne and knocked her to the ground. She was being buried underneath a tirade of White Walkers, and her blood-curdling scream reminded him of the time years ago when Locke had seized her to be raped. It sent chills down Jaime's spine.

His eyes widened in panic. Not Brienne, no.

Pushing and shoving his way through the armies of dead and living men, Jaime ran instantly to her side and charged at the attacking wights with a roar of determination. He shoved his sword through the backs of the corpses while Brienne continued to yell out in agony, and pulled them desperately off her. He bent down to help her but then felt his breath catch slightly in his throat at the astonishing sight of the dragon that had suddenly appeared in the black sky, breathing ferocious amounts of fire down at the White Walkers as it flew above the battle. Jaime watched the dragon in awe, half-amazed, half-terrified, as his memories of his last battle began to haunt him from the sky. He had to remind himself that he was fighting on the same side as the wretched dragon now.

Brienne had also been stunned into silence as she struggled up to watch the incredible sight of the dragonfire, trying not to wince; the wights had somehow managed to pierce through her armour. She felt ashamed of herself – a minute into the battle, and she was already bleeding.

'Brienne!' Jaime said anxiously, tearing his eyes away from the dragon – who had now also been joined by its brother – and he took both her hands in his and pulled her up to her feet. 'Are you all right?'

'I-I'm fine,' Brienne panted, retrieving her sword from the ground. 'Thank you.'

'Where did it get you?' Jaime asked urgently over the din of the dragons' roars and the wights' assault around them, and his eyes scanned her body fervently for signs of injury.

'It's just a scratch, stop fussing!' Brienne insisted, slapping his hand away.

He did not need telling twice. With a nod he turned to the left to see what could be done with the hundreds of remaining White Walkers that hadn't been obliterated by the dragonfire.

'Pod, MOVE!' Jaime yelled at once, diving forwards to shove Pod out of the way as a wight charged directly at him.

He'd already destroyed the wight before Pod had even realised it was there. Brienne let out a shaky breath and gave Jaime an appreciative nod, before the three of them returned to the fold of the battle with their weapons held high, stabbing and slashing as they went.

The White Walkers were a plague of creatures far worse than what Jaime and Brienne had remembered from the one Jon Snow had introduced to them at the Dragonpit last month. Some of them were rotted away, with barely any flesh left clinging to them. Others were less skeletal and looked to have been dead for merely weeks. But both kinds were equally as horrifying.

All around them was nothing but a whirlwind of violence, chaos and bloodshed. In the mad confusion and darkness, Jaime and Brienne struck out at the wights quickly and ruthlessly, relieved that their Valyrian steel swords managed to cut them down. But then suddenly a fog rolled in, bringing with it a fierce wind that screamed and slashed at their faces as the two dragons struggled against the storm in the sky above. The fog was so dense you could cut a knife through it, and the shadows of the mangled, horrific corpses were only just visible…but visible enough to send fear and panic punching through everyone's insides.

More floods of these monsters continued to swarm forwards ravenously and break their lines, sending some soldiers fleeing for the safety of the castle. Amongst the blizzard of spears and swords and frost and wind, Jaime and Brienne could see nothing through the fog but the snarling, rotting faces of the dead clawing at them.

It was an absolute slaughter.

Ash – or was it snow? – had begun to fall all around them when they heard the frantic shouting of orders to retreat to the castle.

In the chaos, Brienne yelled out to her force: 'FALL BACK!'

She had lost sight of Pod as everyone went piling into the castle, desperate to run as fast as they could into the grounds while the Unsullied remained diligently behind to protect the retreat. Brienne felt the fear surge up inside her, but she knew she couldn't go in search of her squire when she had a job to do. Besides, she had faith that he would be all right; he was a strong fighter, and would most likely just be caught up in the crowd.

Brienne found Jaime slashing through a wight near the castle walls; she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him with her through the open gates.

'Where's Pod?!' he asked her, panicked.

But Brienne didn't answer. 'I need you to take charge of that side,' she said loudly to him over the noise of the screams and shouts, and she pointed to the left of the courtyard within the castle grounds. 'See that everyone gets in the right positions to defend the battlements-'

'What?!' Jaime exclaimed, appalled; he didn't want to leave her side. 'I can't-'

'That's an order, Jaime! You're the only one I trust to take command!' Brienne shouted desperately.

Jaime stared at her for a moment, fuming, then nodded. Brienne nodded back and they gripped one another's arms briefly before hurrying away in the opposite directions to help lead her men to safety. The two of them stood at the other ends of the open gates, encouraging the soldiers in while the trench was lit outside to prevent the dead from following.

'GO! GET IN! GO!' they both shouted urgently.

When Brienne caught sight of Pod, she felt almost like she would crumble with relief. His face was stained with blood and muck, just as hers was, but otherwise he looked unharmed. She grabbed him and checked him over quickly, then let him go.

They'd all barely had time to catch their breath when the shouting began with their new commands merely minutes later.

'MAN THE WALLS!'

Brienne's heart stopped. That could only mean one thing – the Army of the Dead was already breaking through the firelit trench.

Eyes filled with dread as he looked up at the misty, ash-filled sky, Jaime hurried across the courtyard towards the steps. If Brienne wanted him to command this side, then that was what he was going to do – he'd have to change the men's' positions so that they could defend the wall while shooting from above.

Pod was rushing over; Jaime grabbed him by his arm, overcome with relief. 'Come on!' he encouraged, pushing him forward to join the others on top of the battlements. 'COME ON, GO, GO, GO!'

'COME ON!' Brienne shouted to the men on her side, and she glanced over at Jaime to see him doing the same; their eyes met across the courtyard through the fog and ash and chaos, and they both nodded encouragingly at each other before hurrying to the upper levels.

When he reached the top of the battlements, Jaime looked around to quickly assess their situation. 'WE NEED THE ARCHERS!' he shouted urgently.

To his astonishment, he heard a few men repeat his command. Throughout the day, many of these soldiers had been so openly angry about the concept of fighting alongside the Kingslayer, but now that the time had come, they were following his orders.

'ARCHERS ON TOP!'

Jaime couldn't believe it. They were listening to him. They were following him. They no longer cared that he was a Lannister, and it was this, more than anything, that filled Jaime with a huge burst of confidence and pride.

While she commanded from the opposite side of the battlements, Brienne saw briefly as the soldiers on the other side continued to obey Jaime's orders, and she felt a momentary smile flicker on her face; he was experienced in battle, he knew what he was doing, and, most impressively, he was a natural leader. And she was overwhelmingly grateful to have him there.

'DRAW!' Jaime shouted as all the archers assembled across the battlements, waiting for the White Walkers that were slowly but surely making their way up the outer walls of the castle to infiltrate the grounds.

The haunting moonlight reflected the flames of the fire that had been lit up around the trenches so that the sky now looked to be a burnt orange. But even with this change of lighting, it was still almost impossible to see what awaited them; the fog and ash made sure of that. All Jaime and Brienne and their men could do was prepare, their arrows, swords and spears ready to strike at any moment.

But even though they initiated the attack, the storm of arrows did not prevent the dead from clambering over the battlements to join them.

Jaime continuously shoved his sword through the wights' heads or ribcages whenever they appeared, all the while shouting, 'COME ON!' encouragingly at his fellow knights and soldiers. He could hear the reassuring sounds of Brienne's confident, heroic roars as she cut through more of them on the other side of the battlements. Each wight they destroyed seemed to have a different texture to them; sometimes their blades would cut through flesh, other times they would hack into bone. But, whatever their condition, none of them seemed deterred by the men and weapons blocking their way into the castle, and they just kept coming and coming…until eventually they landed on solid ground.

When Brienne heard Jaime cry out through the din, all other noise seemed to block out of her mind as her head jerked up and she stared wide-eyed over at the other side of the battlements across the castle just as more wights clambered onto Jaime, who was struggling to fight them off.

He was in trouble. And Brienne could not have that.

Running to him without thinking, Brienne cut her way across the battlements, slashing her way through the oncoming wights and not caring whether she was pushing living or dead out of her way in order to get to the man whom she had once despised but now loved so dearly. She roared out determinedly as she struck corpse after corpse, smashing one into the balustrade and knocking it down onto the ground of the courtyard below. If she was destroying the structure of the battlement structure, Brienne neither knew nor care; all she knew was that she had to get to Jaime as soon as possible.

When she reached him, he was pinned up against the walls of the battlements, with half a dozen wights on him. The moment Jaime heard her familiar determined roar and strike of her sword, he felt himself relax.

She's here. I'm saved.

Brienne slashed away angrily at the wights on him, and he soon broke free, but there was no time for him to stop and thank her; more of the never-ending dead were already upon them. Jaime and Brienne turned and found themselves fighting together back to back, in perfect synchronisation. The fluidity the two of them had developed with one another had become almost automatic; they looked extraordinary together as they brandished the two halves of Ned Stark's sword to defend Winterfell.

They then turned to face each other in the heat of the battle, half-terrified, half-awestruck, but Jaime was forced to pull his eyes from her face when he saw the wight about to attack her from behind.

'LOOK OUT!' he yelled; Brienne ducked out of the way at once as he lunged forwards and struck the wight, just as another one leapt out of nowhere and slammed into both of them.

Both Jaime and Brienne toppled to the floor and collapsed on top of each other, Jaime making sure to position himself so that he could break their fall.

'Jaime-!' Brienne gasped, but before she could finish her sentence she stabbed her sword through another wight who'd dived down to attack them both on the battlement floor.

Jaime was amazed with himself; he'd never thought, given the chaos of the everlasting stream of animated corpses and bloodshed that surrounded them, that he would find himself flustered in these sorts of circumstances. And yet Brienne lying clumsily on top of him had done just that.

'Are you all right?' he asked her awkwardly, straining slightly under the weight of her armour as she struggled to straighten up.

Brienne was unaware that he was blushing just as much as she was. 'Yes-yes, I-'

But their conversation was cut short as more White Walkers came piling over the top of the battlements. Exchanging a dark look, Brienne and Jaime grabbed one another's free hand and helped each other back to their feet, before they resumed slashing their swords at the enemy. Pod, in the midst of the bedlam of the battle, was completely in awe of Brienne and her devoted male companion as he watched them move as one up on the battlements. She and Jaime were practically a mirror image of each other, constantly watching out for the others' safety as they continued to fight relentlessly against the wights. It was an impressive sight to behold.

Jaime and Brienne had never truly fought alongside in battle together like this until now…although they had come to each other's rescue and fought side-by-side once against a common enemy quite unlike the one they were facing now. An enemy with fur and paws, in fact…

* * * 

Jaime's horse was exhausted and in need of rest, but Jaime didn't slow down with the reigns. They were almost there now; the great intimidating fortress that he had been so pleased to leave behind this morning loomed before them, and he could already hear that dreaded familiar jeering as he led the charge back to Harrenhal.

He didn't care that he had defied Steelshanks, Roose Bolton's captain in charge of Jaime's safe return to King's Landing, nor that he had paid no attention to Qyburns' advice. Jaime could still hear the strange, eerie man's protests from a few hours ago when they'd turned to ride back still ringing in his ears.

'You're only delaying your return…' Qyburn had said to him incredulously. 'Is she really worth it?'

'Yes. She is.'

When they entered the fortress grounds and rode quickly through into the main yard, they found it deserted. His horse skidded to a halt as Jaime looked around urgently, searching for any sign of where she could be.

'Eyes open, lads-!' Steelshanks began, but Jaime cut over him.

'Be quiet!' Jaime snapped; the jeering had become much louder.

Panic was beginning to settle in now. The jeering had turned into singing; he could recognise the voices of Locke's men easily, even from a distance.

Jaime jumped off his horse with a wince and hurried through the yard towards the sound of the singing, his pace quickening with every step. He knew the song they were singing now. He had heard them sing it many times, ever since they'd been taken hostage. Heart pounding in fear, Jaime ran as fast as he could in his weakened state, terrified that he might already be too late.

'The bear, the bear and the maiden fair

From there to here, from here to there,

All black and brown and covered in hair

He smelled that girl in the summer air

The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair!'

Panting heavily, Jaime climbed unsteadily up the wooden staircase towards the sound; a huge crowd of men dressed in armour were stood around what seemed to be a fighting pit, cheering and singing and applauding as they watched whatever spectacle was occurring down in the pit below. Feeling suddenly rather nauseous, Jaime pushed his way roughly through the cheering men until he reached the front.

His face fell in horror.

Brienne of Tarth had been thrown into the pit…along with a full-grown grizzly bear, three times the size of her. She was still dressed in that horrendous pink gown, and was clutching what appeared to be a plank of wood in defence. Her hair was matted and blood poured from a huge gash just above her chest; even from so far above, Jaime could make out the bear's claw marks that would remain permanently scarred on her neck. And yet, despite this, she wore a fierce expression; her eyes were determined as she stood her ground and pointed the wooden sword directly at the bear. She wasn't going to let herself go down without a fight.

Jaime realised in that moment that Brienne was braver than any man he had ever met.

'Well, this is one shameful fucking performance!' came Locke's familiar voice from the side.

Jaime was too stunned to retaliate. His mouth was still hanging open in shock and dismay, and it felt like his heart had dropped all the way to the pit of his stomach. He still couldn't believe what he was seeing. He feared that if he tried to speak, only vomit would come out.

'Stop running and fight!' Locke shouted down at Brienne in the pit, and Jaime looked around at him in disgust.

Brienne was trying to keep her breathing controlled as she steadily circled around the pit. Her hands shook slightly as she pointed her pitiful weapon at the restless bear. She knew this was the end. There was no hope for her now; all she could do was fight as best as she could. She would not give in, not to someone like Locke…even if it meant dragging out the unpleasant business of being ripped apart by a huge vicious bear.

'A wooden sword?' Jaime said incredulously.

Locke seemed completely unperturbed by Jaime's sudden reappearance at Harrenhal; he turned slyly to face him. 'I thought you'd gone,' he said.

'You gave her a wooden sword!' Jaime said furiously.

Outraged, he shoved one of Locke's cronies out of the way so that he could confront this hideous man. Locke may have taken his hand, but Jaime would not let him take this innocent woman's life. Not today, not ever.

'We've only got one bear,' Locke replied gruffly.

Jaime glared at him. 'I'll pay her bloody ransom. Gold, sapphires, whatever you want – just get her out of there!' he said desperately.

Jaime's escort, who had followed him to the pit from behind, were looking at him in bewilderment. Locke's men surrounding them looked equally confused to see Jaime Lannister plead for his former captor's safety. Only Locke seemed unsurprised by Jaime's attitude.

He shook his head exasperatedly at Jaime, a small smile of amusement on his face as he took a step closer to him. 'All you lords and ladies…still think that the only thing that matters is gold,' he said, and he roughly grabbed Jaime's bandaged stump. 'Well this makes me happier than all your gold ever could' – he then pointed down at Brienne, who was crouching down as she backed away from the bear down in the pit – 'and that makes me happier than all her sapphires. So go buy yourself a golden hand and fuck yourself with it!'

With nothing more to say, Locke then turned his back dismissively on Jaime and rested his hands on the balustrade to re-join his jeering audience in watching the entertainment down below. Jaime stared at him, aghast; Locke truly wanted to just watch Brienne be torn apart right before their very eyes.

A huge enthusiastic cheer then erupted all around him; Jaime looked down into the pit at once and his eyes widened in fear – the bear had stood up on its hind legs and was roaring directly into Brienne's face. Her expression didn't falter as she determinedly reached up to strike it with the wooden sword. But then the bear had grasped the piece of wood with its claw; Brienne struggled against its firm hold and the bear lashed out at her with its other claw and scratched angrily against her face. Brienne cried out in agony, and stumbled backwards as the broken wooden sword fell to the muddy ground and splintered into pieces.

Jaime's mouth opened in horror as he watched. There was nothing she could do now to defend herself. It was a hopeless cause. She was to be defeated and monstrously killed by a bear, at the hands of Locke, and it made Jaime enraged. Brienne had saved him; he knew he couldn't live with himself if he just let her die like this in such a horrible way for someone else's entertainment. He suddenly felt something – was it some long lost strain of loyalty? – surge through him as he stared down at the pit, and he began to move away from Locke and his men, trying to find a gap in the balustrade.

Fear was taking hold in Brienne now as she backed away, the sounds of the men's laughing and cheering for the bear almost deafening. She had no weapon now – not that that stupid plank of wood had really counted as a weapon, but still. She was on her own, injured and tired and defeated. The bear neared to her and scratched at her again with its claw.

'ARGHH! Brienne yelled, as she collapsed to the mucky ground.

A terrified Jaime watched as she lay there in the mud, the top of her arm bleeding profusely along with her neck. The bear growled and moved closer towards her.

Jaime didn't even think about it; he leapt over the balustrade and jumped down into the pit.

Chapter Text

Still on the ground, Brienne jerked her head back at the sound of his feet landing behind her, and she felt her jaw drop.

Jaime Lannister?!

She had been so preoccupied with dealing with the idea that she was going to be mauled to death by a bear, and now she had to deal with the shock of seeing the last person she'd ever thought she would see again.

Jaime was almost as stunned by what he had done as Brienne was; since losing his hand he had struggled to merely mount a horse and cut his food and change his clothes and wipe his arse, but suddenly, now it had come to Brienne's life being on the line, he hadn't even considered the limitations of his only having one hand. He realised however in that moment that his decision that had landed him in here had been more as a show of a solidarity rather than an actual rescue; after all, with only one hand, no weapon, various injuries and his arm in a sling, he was completely useless. For a fleeting moment, Jaime was filled with instant regret at his stupid decision as the bear roared in his face, but then he saw the blood dripping from Brienne's wounds and torn dress, and he regained focus.

'Get behind me,' he said to her, his eyes remaining firmly fixed on the bear as he stepped closer to Brienne.

'I will not!' Brienne said fiercely as she struggled to get up from the ground.

Jaime had to admire the way she refused to drop her pride and honour, even in a situation as bad as this, but he was having none of it. He leant down and pulled her, knocked down and injured, up to her feet and shoved her behind him, despite her shouts of protest. He'd put himself between Brienne and the bear, with no plan and no motivation other than to save her. His goal was not to earn glory or even pay the debt he owed. It was to see her live.

Why am I risking my life for this woman? What's happened to me? Jaime thought to himself, as he stared in horror at the bear facing them.

He crouched in front of her, eyes wide and alert on the beast before them, while Brienne remained at his side, a few steps behind him. The bear began to claw at the ground angrily as it neared towards them. Both Jaime and Brienne gasped out in fear as they backed away, Jaime struggling to move his injured arms out to protect her.

Brienne was almost paralyzed with not just fear but also shock. Jaime Lannister was shielding her with his own body and it was only then when she fully realised that he had jumped in here to try and save her life…even if it meant at the expense of his own.

The bear was making its way steadily closer to the frightened pair, but before it could raise its claw to harm either of them, an arrow then landed in its side, and the bear growled out in pain and halted. Jaime glanced up to see that Steelshanks was stood beside Locke, getting ready to shoot the bear again with his crossbow. Relief flooded through Jaime; the arrows wouldn't stop the bear, but they would distract it, and a distraction was all they needed.

Giving Brienne's arms a brief grab, Jaime then rushed back towards the old timbre wall and looked up desperately at Steelshanks and his assigned men. 'Pull her up!' he shouted urgently.

When he knelt down on the ground, Brienne realised what he was doing. Astonished, she hurried over to him, and saw that Bolton's men who had been charged with taking him back to the capital were already leaning over the wall with their hands held out for her. Brienne clambered onto his back and Jaime boosted her out of the pit; she reached out and Bolton's soldiers pulled her over to safety.

Relieved and yet also terrified, Jaime turned his focus back to the bear, which was getting increasingly angry and restless across the opposite end of the pit. He had left himself behind, with one hand and no weapon, to die for this woman in the most horrible way.

But then he heard Brienne's shout.

'Hold my legs!'

Jaime looked up to see that she was leaning fully over the wall to pull him up, while Steelshanks and his men kept her legs pinned down to stop her from toppling over back into the pit. The sight made his heart soar. Deep down, he knew he could have trusted her to get him out – not just because of her vow, but because he flattered himself believing that she preferred him to be alive rather than dead.

He glanced back towards the bear; it was clawing the ground, looking ready to charge. Eyes widening in horror, Jaime turned and ran at the wall; he clambered up, clinging to the wooden frames as best as he could. When he felt the thump of the bear colliding into the wall below him, Jaime felt his stomach lurch in terror. His feet were dangling helplessly merely inches from the beast's roaring mouth, but he couldn't dwell on that; all he had left to focus on was Brienne, leaning over for him with her hands outstretched in desperation. Wincing and groaning in pain as he struggled to manoeuvre his legs and feet out of the vicious bear's reach, Jaime then took a leap of faith as he reached out for Brienne.

She grabbed his remaining hand with her clammy ones, and both of them let out of groans of agony as they struggled to keep hold of each other.

'Pull me back!' Brienne yelled urgently.

Bolton's men obeyed her at once; they dragged her legs back and reached out to grab Jaime, where together they lifted him up to safety. The moment Jaime had rolled, exhausted, onto the safety of the wooden floor, Brienne let go and got up to her feet to glare at Locke, who was looking at them both with a furious expression on his face. For some reason, despite all he had done, Locke didn't scare her anymore. No one here did. Not now Jaime was with her.

Perhaps he wouldn't have returned and done what he had done just now if Roose Bolton had still been here. But that was no matter – whether or not that would have made a difference, he had still done it. He had rescued her, when Brienne had not been expecting at all to survive today. She had gone into that pit expecting to stay in there until her gruesome death. But Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, had saved her from that…and it questioned everything she thought she knew.

Panting heavily as he lay on the floor, Jaime looked up as Locke stepped over to him. A tense silence had fallen around the entire pit as everyone watched.

'The bitch stays,' Locke said firmly.

Jaime struggled up to his feet, beaten and tired and weak as he was, though his expression was that of the fierce commander he had once been.

'I'm taking her to King's Landing,' he said firmly, giving Locke a look of disdain. 'Unless you kill me.'

The tone in his voice indicated that he was not joking, and it wasn't clear who was more shocked by this astounding gesture: Locke or Brienne.

The other day during their uncomfortable dinner with their host, Brienne had been surprised by Jaime insisting to Roose Bolton that she came with him back to the capital. But now she was realising that he had truly meant it. He had come to recover her, at great risk to his own life, from her imprisonment here in this terrible place with these terrible people. And he was going to do just that. He was ensuring her safety, and he wasn't going to leave her. She could rely on that.

Locke's men took threatening steps forward with their hands on their swords, while Locke leered at Jaime. But Jaime was unperturbed and stood his ground, staring back at the man who had taken his sword hand and ruined his life.

'She belongs to me,' Locke said smugly, while Brienne took a few steps closer to Jaime, barely registering the pain from her wounds as she watched the two men closely while they decided her fate. 'Lord Bolton's orders.'

Brienne's nostrils flared as she scowled down at this pitiful man stood before them. She had never hated anyone more than Locke, never, and she stood proudly behind her saviour while Locke confronted them with her shoulders straight and tall, and her head held high. She knew that Jaime wasn't going to let Locke take her from him. No harm would come to her now, she was sure of it.

'What do you think is more important to Lord Bolton? Getting his pet rat a reward or ensuring Tywin Lannister gets his son back alive?' Jaime spat at Locke.

Rain and mud dripped from his long, untidy hair, and dirty rags covered his skeletal, beaten, bruised body, with a sling and bandage covering up his ugly stump. And yet Brienne could see now that he looked more fierce, more impressive, more godly than any other knight or soldier present in this monstrous fortress of broken stone.

The two men stared at each other for a moment. Hatred boiled in every feature of Locke's face as he then turned to glare at Jaime's entourage. Brienne took another step forward; she was prepared to fight for their lives alongside Jaime if Locke and his men made the foolish decision to attack, but something told her they wouldn't do that – it was clear from the stance of Steelshanks and his men that they were backing up Jaime, and no one, not even Locke, would be able to stop them.

Eventually, Locke put his sword back into its sheath, and took a few reluctant steps back from Jaime. He seemed too ashamed to say anything; the fool hated to be beaten, particularly by the man and woman he had enjoyed torturing so relentlessly. A hint of a smile on his face, Jaime turned once more into the pit for one final look at that horrendous bear. When he turned back to face Locke, he looked at him as if he were the most despicable excuse of a human being in the whole world.

'Well…we must be on our way,' Jaime said, and he glanced back at Brienne; even in that ridiculous badly-torn dress she was still terrifically intimidating.

Brienne could only nod at him, her look of disdain for Locke seemingly frozen on her face. She was still too stunned by Jaime's actions to find anything to say.

Jaime took a step forward to lead their departure, away from Locke and Harrenhal for good, but then he hesitated, and a slight smile fell on his face. The chance was too good to miss.

He leant towards Locke. 'Sorry about the sapphires,' he said.

And with that, Jaime Lannister walked away and pushed his way through Locke's cronies so they could leave this nightmare behind them forever. Brienne followed, making sure to cast Locke the filthiest look of repulsion that he deserved as she passed.

Jaime kept his head bent down, feeling Brienne's curious eyes on him as he led the way out of the pit's grounds. The two friends remained silent, both stunned by the full impact of what Jaime's actions today meant.

Brienne couldn't stop looking at him, her frown softer than usual as she tried to understand what had just happened. She could feel every thought and feeling she had ever held for this man begin to shift inside her. He had been free, he had been released from her charge, he had been on his way to King's Landing, the place he had killed someone to get to, the place he had been longing for all this time, the place where his sister and home waited desperately for his return. But he had come back…for her. He had risked his life for her. That was something she had never thought would happen in a million years, but now she felt like she was seeing him in a new light for the first time. She was finally seeing him for who he truly was, for the man he was meant to be. And it felt like an honour for her to witness it.

While his former captor gazed, mesmerized, at him as they made their way towards the wooden staircases that led the way to the yard, Jaime appeared, not embarrassed exactly, but humbled, as he walked on, trying hard not to limp or let the further strain to his arm limit him. Deep down, he felt almost reborn again. He could not fully comprehend what he had done or why he had done it, but could only reason that it had something to do with his bizarre newfound affection and sense of loyalty towards the woman who had once irritated him so much to the point that he'd almost tried to kill her with a sword.

That day on the bridge seemed so long ago now. He had been a different person then, Jaime realised, as he looked back – a crueller person, sillier and arrogant. If there was anything Jaime was glad of from this horrific detour with Locke since that day, it was the change that had befallen him during those weeks. Perhaps he had Brienne to thank for that.

As they reached the staircase, he looked behind to check that Steelshanks and his men were following. It was then when he noticed that Brienne was wincing slightly as she walked; the bear had wounded her more than she was letting on. Without thinking Jaime waited for her and put his one hand on the small of her back as he guided her along. Brienne was shocked by the physical gesture.

'My lady, are you all right?' he asked quietly, concerned, as together they made their way down the stairs.

'I…y-yes, I think so…' Brienne murmured, and she cleared her throat; her voice was hoarse from the amount of yelling and crying out while inside the bear pit.

'Did he defile you? Did any of his men touch you?' His voice shook slightly with anger at the mere thought.

'No.'

'Thank the gods.'

Jaime was surprised to hear himself say those words without a hint of irony. It had been a long time since he had thanked the gods and meant it.

When they reached the yard, the horses were waiting restlessly for them. Even they seemed desperate to leave Harrenhal at the earliest opportunity. Brienne thought Jaime would let go of her the moment they got off the unsteady wooden stairs, but to her bewilderment he kept his hold on her. Part of her wanted to shrug him off and tell him to get away; after all, she was perfectly capable of walking herself. But for some reason she couldn't fathom, she did not.

'As soon as we're out of here, Qyburn, you'll see to Lady Brienne's wounds,' Jaime called over, as he walked Brienne towards his horse.

'Of course, Ser Jaime,' Qyburn replied, frowning curiously over at the pair of them.

'Are you well enough to ride?' Jaime asked Brienne.

'Yes. I think so.'

She often hated being fussed over, but today, right now, Brienne didn't mind that he was being like this. In fact, she quite liked it. It made her feel like embracing her femininity for once, to even perhaps admit that she was indeed hurt and in pain and needed help. After all, she had just been attacked by a bear. She had to make allowances for herself sometimes. Besides – although she hated to admit himself – ever since she had been a little girl she had dreamed of being rescued by a knight in shining armour. And here he was.

'I'm afraid we have a lack of horses,' Jaime said apologetically as he looked around at Bolton's men and their steeds. 'You can share with me for now until we acquire another or…if you'd feel more comfortable with someone else…'

He looked around expectantly at Steelshanks and the others. None of them looked very keen, and Brienne couldn't blame them; after all, she was unsightly and repulsive to all men on her good days, and right now she was drenched in blood and mud.

To her surprise, however, one of the soldiers spoke up. 'There should be room on my horse, my lady, if you'd prefer-'

'No,' Brienne said at once, and she flushed. 'Thank you, ser, but I'll ride with Ser Jaime.' She turned tentatively to him. 'If that's…'

She wasn't sure why she hesitated as she glanced at Jaime, the only one here that she trusted. He had risked sacrificing his own life by guarding her with his body from a bear. How could she doubt anymore that he genuinely cared?

Something that looked like a smile appeared on Jaime's face as he nodded at her. 'Of course,' he said kindly, and he encouraged her forwards, though his eyes ran up and down her ruined pink gown in distaste. 'You may have to ride side-saddle with that dress.'

Brienne stared at him, her nostrils flaring. The mere notion of riding side-saddle while wearing this hideous thing was repugnant to her. She leant down, groaning slightly with pain, and grabbed the skirt of her dress, which she promptly ripped up the side in between her legs. Then she straightened up and tilted her head at him.

There. Now I can ride properly.

Jaime gazed at her for a moment, stunned, and his eyes fell to the huge tear in her dress, where her muddy legs were now on show.

He swallowed slightly and raised his eyebrows at her, impressed. 'Then again, maybe not.'

He held out a hand to help her get up onto the horse; she hesitated, but took it all the same. He clambered on just as ungracefully as she did and sat behind her, where he moved his arms around her waist to grab hold of the reigns with his one hand. Jaime didn't really mind that he was so close to her; after all, they had shared a horse while bound together numerous times during their eventful journey with Locke and his cronies. Back then, Jaime and Brienne had been repulsed by the mere sight and touch of one another, but things were different now. So very different. It made their casual acceptance of the intimacy of their current situation all the more strange.

As he adjusted the reigns, Jaime then noticed that the top of Brienne's arm was still bleeding a considerable amount. Frowning anxiously, Jaime reached around to remove the bandage that had been supporting his stump and arm. He began to rip it in two with his teeth.

'My lord, you shouldn't-!' Qyburn protested from his horse nearby, but Jaime interrupted him.

'You can redress me later,' Jaime said irritably. 'You have enough supplies on you, I trust?'

'I-I do, my lord.'

Jaime passed one of the bandage pieces over to Brienne. 'Hold that on your neck, it'll stop the bleeding for now,' he told her. 'I'll use this for your arm.'

Brienne frowned. 'But what about you-?'

'Just do it. Please.'

Brienne fell silent; she knew there was no point in arguing with him. She folded the bandage piece in two for more support and pressed it firmly against the bear's puncture marks gashed into her neck, while Jaime tried to wrap the other piece of bandage around the top of her arm. Tired of watching him struggle with his one hand, Qyburn then wearily trotted over to them on his own horse to help Jaime finish up.

Once they had done and the bandage was secure, Qyburn rode away slightly as Jaime turned to address his assigned men.

'We'll ride until we're far away from this ghastly place, and then we'll stop so Lady Brienne can get treatment and proper clothes, and some rest,' Jaime said to them all, his voice ringing out commandingly; blinking rapidly, Brienne looked down at his hand and stump wrapped around her as he held the reigns, and felt herself begin to blush.

Steelshanks looked uncomfortable. 'Ser Jaime, Lord Bolton charged us with seeing you to King's Landing as soon as possible,' he said, 'we can't afford any more delays, your father will-'

'I don't care about delays and I don't care how long it takes us to get to King's Landing or what my father will think, do you understand?' Jaime snapped at him, and Brienne's lips parted in shock.

'Yes, my lord,' Steelshanks replied eventually, exchanging a confused look with his fellow soldiers.

Feeling slightly flustered, Jaime then nodded at Steelshanks. 'Then ride on,' he ordered.

Steelshanks led their group out of the fortress grounds, with Jaime and Brienne following closely behind. As they rode out into the hills, Jaime tried to control their horse so that it wouldn't jolt about and cause further injury or pain to Brienne, but it was hard with only one hand on the reigns. Eventually, Brienne abandoned keeping the bandage on her neck in place so that she could help him steady the horse. Their fingers touched occasionally on the reigns, but neither of them flinched away. Indeed, they were secretly grateful for the warmth of each other's presence after the traumatising horrors of the bear pit as they continued to ride.

Brienne could still hardly process the days' events fully in her head. Today she had been forced to play the part of the 'Maiden Fair' in the song Locke's men had sung so mockingly at her, and despite her tough exterior, she did not mind on this one occasion. She was a hopeless romantic at heart, after all, and the man sat behind her on the horse now, his chest warm against her back, his hand steady and comforting as he rode them away to safety, had filled her wish. She couldn't make sense of her tangled web of emotions whirling through her right at this minute, but all she knew was that they unnerved her deeply, and that the merest touch on Jaime's part as they rode suddenly sent her heart and temperature soaring. And that could not be a good thing.

Meanwhile Jaime was still equally as stunned as he recalled the vivid feeling of him leaping into the pit over and over again while they rode on. Not since the Mad King, and not until Brienne, would he have ever done something like that for someone so wholly unrelated to him. And he hadn't done it out of guilt or honour, he knew that now, with Brienne sat securely between his arms on the horse. He had done it for something else…some strange emotion that he didn't recognise. Something real. Something pure.

He wondered if he would ever find out what that was.

* * * 

~ Present Day ~

The air was filled with more ash and flames than ever as Jaime and Brienne continued to hack away at the relentless White Walkers clawing at them. Once they'd beaten the wights on the battlements back, the two of them grabbed each other and hurried down the stairs to defend the yard, where more fighters were needed.

Bodies scattered the castle grounds, dozens of them lying mutilated in heaps. The intense noises of the men's screams and the wight's screeches, along with the clash of steel and dragonglass, was almost deafening as the butchery continued. Blood pounded in Jaime's ears as he fought bravely on. For years he had been known as one of the greatest swordsmen in the Seven Kingdoms, and yet now he was fighting better than he ever had done before, even without his sword hand, because for the first time in his life, he had something worth fighting for. He wasn't doing it to be the best or to uphold his reputation. He was doing it for Brienne and for the living.

Jaime never left Brienne's side as the battle ploughed on, and the pair found themselves constantly saving one another from the nightmarish corpses…until, at last, there came one blissful moment where the fighting inexplicably stopped and everything was suddenly still and silent. It smelt of sweat and shit and blood and death but for some reason the battle seemed to have halted, and that was all that mattered. It was as if time had frozen around them.

Exhausted and beaten, Jaime turned breathlessly to look around the castle's courtyard, wondering why silence had fallen, with only the eerie howl of the frosty wind to be heard. And then his eyes widened and his mouth fell open in horror as he watched the figures slowly beginning to struggle up to their feet, their eyes a piercing blue.

The dead were rising, the recently-fallen soldiers of Winterfell along with them.

'Jaime…' Brienne whispered from beside him as she watched in dismay. 'Are they…?'

'Yes,' Jaime said heavily.

Terror seared through her. 'We'll never stop them. They'll just keep coming back,' she realised, and she turned to Jaime anxiously and took a few steps towards him. 'Jaime, I…I've always-'

'No, no, no,' Jaime cut over her, panicked, 'don't talk like that, remember?'

'But this is it,' Brienne said hopelessly, indicating the ever-growing Army of the Dead as more and more of their new soldiers slowly got up to their feet. 'This is the end. I don't want to become one of them, I-'

'I won't let you,' Jaime and said firmly, and he gripped her arms fiercely; she grasped him back, desperate to hold on and never let go. 'I promise.'

He hated to see her resolve begin to disintegrate. He couldn't let her be frightened, even if he was, if possible, even more terrified by what they were witnessing. He glanced over her shoulder; there were more White Walkers than ever before; the corpses they had destroyed before, resurrected along with their tragic victims who had until recently been on the side of the living. There were too many of them. Far too many. And there was no way out of this.

Jaime exhaled deeply as he tried desperately not to let his eyes well up. 'Now…we don't have much time before those bastards are steady enough to start moving towards us,' he said, his voice wavering with fear slightly. 'So we have two options: either we…crouch to the ground to stay low and play dead to avoid joining this wretched army of mad corpses…or we fight to the death. What will it be, Ser Brienne?'

Brienne gazed back at him through watery eyes, blood dripping from her messy hair, and her chin quivered. 'I think we both know the answer to that,' she replied.

A sad smile fell on Jaime's face. 'Yes, we do,' he said encouragingly, his voice breaking. 'Together?'

Lips trembling, Brienne gave him a determined nod.

Before she knew what had happened, Jaime had gripped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her face close to his, where he pressed his lips firmly against her forehead. In that one wonderful moment, Brienne almost forgot about the new White Walkers slowly finding their feet and making their way over towards the remaining defenders of Winterfell. And then all too soon it was over; Jaime leaned away and wiped a single tear off her cheek with his thumb, a sympathetic expression on his bruised and bloody face, before he turned to their left to find the one other person they needed beside them in their final fight.

'Pod, come here,' Jaime called urgently, and the battered squire came hurrying over; Brienne gripped him earnestly, overwhelmingly pleased that he was here. 'Stick with us, you understand?'

'Yes, milord.'

'Good man,' Jaime said, clapping him on the shoulder.

He looked around at Brienne; her tears had been shed, and she'd stopped shaking. The face of the fierce knight he knew and loved was back. The three of them exchanged a determined nod before holding their swords up high above their shoulders, ready for the next attack.

They were outnumbered greatly. But at least they all had each other.

The monstrous corpses, along with the dead bodies that had only just turned cold, were upon them within seconds; Brienne, Jaime and Pod lunged forward as one and hacked their way through the horrifying creatures. The three of them never lost sight of each other, and had each other's backs as more and more wights charged at them.

Men wailed and screamed all around them; Brienne joined in with their roars fiercely, her voice loud and pained as they struggled on. Blood splattered from their gaping wounds and yet Jaime and Brienne kept on fighting, because that was what they did best. Despite all the chaos and bloodshed, they were glorious warriors together, and they would not be beaten. Not until the very bitter end.

As the massacre grew steadily worse and more of the northmen were slaughtered and fell to the ground, Brienne, Jaime and Pod found themselves surrendering their position as the wights backed them into a corner of the courtyard.

'Stay close to him!' Brienne yelled at Jaime, indicating Pod, and Jaime nodded back at her as he sliced through another wight.

The three of them continued to fight side-by-side, backed against the castle wall with Jaime in the middle trying to protect both Brienne and Pod, as what seemed like hundreds of dead men came clobbering at them. Pod was shoved roughly against the wall as a new onslaught of corpses charged at him; confident that Brienne could take care of herself, Jaime went to Pod's side and tried to push the wights away off them both but it was no use. There was no stopping these creatures, not now.

Brienne cried out as a wight jumped on her back and another attacked her chest; the noise emitting from her mouth was terrible. Jaime so desperately wanted to run to her to help pull them off, but he was practically suffocating underneath the weight of all the dead corpses clambering onto him, their skeletal jaws clacking away.

To die beside Brienne would not be a death he deserved, not after everything he had done in his life, but one Jaime gladly accepted. At least they would know that they were dying together, and for one another.

Brienne closed her eyes, thinking of the way Jaime had kissed her forehead, as she continued to slash out at her attackers closing in on them, determined not to let her sword fall. If she'd had the time or capacity to think properly about it amidst all the fighting, she would have become instantly sad in that moment; a part of her had foolishly believed that the three of them would live to see another day. At least she was stood with Jaime and Pod, the two people she cared about most, when facing her death. That was all that really mattered in the end – that they were together.

And then suddenly they felt the White Walkers freeze.

Before they knew what had happened, the wights then toppled down to the ground and crumbled at their feet.

Seconds passed during which Jaime, Brienne and Pod had no idea what was happening. The screaming had stopped, as had the clanging of swords and spears. All that could be heard was the heavy thumping of more bodies collapsing to the ground all across the grounds of Winterfell…the Army of the Dead falling to their final resting place at last.

The three of them simply stayed stood there, stunned, against the back of the castle wall, in disbelief over what had just happened. They had been merely seconds away from being killed. Pod was half-slumped towards the ground, but Jaime's arm beside him helped keep him upright. On Jaime's other side was Brienne, who appeared paralyzed with shock. A firelit torch attached to the hall hung between them, flickering feebly, and they looked out at the tragic scene before them.

The courtyard within Winterfell had turned into a graveyard of the unburied. The dead lay in heaps and the ground was stained with blood and bones. The putrefying stench of it was enough to make anyone nauseous. There was a fracture of something in the distant sky above the castle battlements – was it sunlight? The beginning of dawn gave Jaime a flicker of hope, and it was then when he realised that he could move and speak again, that they no longer had anything to fight. Jaime turned to Pod and squeezed the squire's shoulder for reassurance; groaning in pain, Pod nodded before jerking his head wordlessly in Brienne's direction, urging him to check on her.

His sword clattering to the ground, Jaime leapt over the broken remains of the defeated wights and rushed to Brienne's side. She looked rather dizzy, and barely seemed to register that he was there as he grabbed her arms and shook her.

'Brienne? Brienne?' he said desperately, concern creased in every line of his face.

It took a moment for Brienne's eyes to regain focus and register whose earnest face was before hers.

Jaime. Oh, thank the gods.

'I'm fine,' she replied, panting. 'Are you?'

'You're not,' Jaime said worriedly, cupping her cheeks in his hands as blood trickled down her forehead, 'you're bleeding-'

'I'm fine,' Brienne repeated firmly, stunned by the way he was touching her, but her eyes then suddenly widened in panic. 'Pod? Pod, is he-?'

'He's fine,' Jaime said at once in a gentle tone, as from the other side of the torch on the wall Pod mumbled something incoherent to try and reassure her; Jaime's lips twitched slightly. 'A little tired, maybe.'

Bizarrely, Brienne heard a rare laugh escape her mouth. Jaime felt himself chuckle as well, and then the tears of joy came brimming to their eyes simultaneously as they gazed at each other in wonder. The battle was done. And by some miracle, they'd survived.

Without thinking, Jaime wrapped his arms around Brienne, crushing armour against armour in an uncomfortable hug, and they both groaned slightly in pain. He wished they could remove these stupid bits of metal so that he could hold her properly. She had given him such a fright earlier. Her cry of agony when the White Walkers had her surrounded against the wall had pierced him like a knife to the heart; he'd thought they'd taken her. But here she was, in his embrace. At least the obstacle of their bulky armour didn't seem to bother Brienne that much; she'd dropped her sword and was holding him back desperately, her head resting on his shoulder.

She's all right. She's all right. She's alive. We're both alive. We made it.

When they broke apart, she and Jaime paused, flustered, their arms still around each other. Jaime reached out to stroke her cheek again where it was bleeding; Brienne placed her hand on top of his as she gazed tearfully at him. Breathing deeply as the relief and joy flooded through them both, Jaime leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers, but they had barely touched when Pod came unsteadily over to them, tripping over bones and slipping in a pile of blood as he went.

'Wh-what happened?!' Pod asked them both, dazed.

'The Night King. They must have killed him!' Brienne replied.

'It's over,' Jaime said triumphantly, and they both smiled before holding their arms out for Pod and bringing him in for another fierce, uncomfortable hug, their armour bashing against each other.

While the sun slowly came up, the three of them saw to each other's more pressing wounds and helped tidy each other up before seeing the maester for more urgent treatment later on in the morning. It wasn't long after when everyone who had been hiding down in the crypts tentatively emerged in the courtyard. Many of them were overwhelmed with shock and horror at the sight that met their eyes, and hysterical tears and screams of despair soon filled the castle grounds once more as people came across their loved ones amongst the many piles of the dead. Only Tyrion could momentarily overlook the misery as he crossed the yard as quickly as his short legs could manage so that he could embrace his brother in relief.

'I see you've adopted a new family,' Tyrion noted, once they had released each other, and he indicated Brienne and Pod stood not far from them.

'Yes. I certainly seem to have done,' Jaime said, smiling. 'How were the crypts?'

Tyrion grimaced. 'Not as peaceful as one had hoped, actually…but no matter, a tale for later on once you've got those wounds cleaned up,' he said, looking his brother up and down anxiously.

'Ser Brienne has already helped with some of them.'

'Of course, how splendid of her. And Pod? How is he?' Tyrion asked, as they watched Brienne's loyal and beaten squire walk across the yard to talk to Lady Sansa.

Jaime smiled proudly. 'He fought extremely well.'

'I'm glad,' Tyrion said, and he sighed deeply before smiling up at Jaime again. 'I knew you'd make it.'

'I wouldn't have done if it hadn't been for Brienne,' Jaime said, a tender look on his face.

There was a short pause as Tyrion simply stared at him incredulously. 'When are you going to just get on with it?' he blurted out.

'With what?' Jaime asked with a frown, confused.

Tyrion rolled his eyes exasperatedly. 'You can be such an idiot sometimes, you know, considering you just won a battle against the dead,' he said, and he sighed. 'What I mean is…what are you waiting for?'

Tyrion glanced pointedly over Jaime's shoulder; Jaime followed his gaze to see Brienne, who was shaking hands with Tormund. From the eager leer on his face, he clearly expected congratulations for the amount of wights he'd destroyed. The sight didn't even trouble Jaime; he knew he had nothing to be worried about. He looked back at Tyrion and sighed.

'Is it really that obvious?' he asked defeatedly.

'Plain as the nose on your face,' Tyrion said smugly, and he raised his eyebrows over at Brienne. 'Although not to her, I strongly suspect.'

'Tyrion!' came a shout, before Jaime could reply; it was Jon Snow, drenched in blood, mud and guts and looking exhausted as he asked for the whereabouts of Daenerys and his sisters.

Tyrion soon left to help direct Jon to his Queen and his family, while Jaime traipsed back over to Brienne, who was now sat alone at the bottom of the steps, gazing wearily out at the yard, Oathkeeper lying at her feet. Exhaling heavily, Jaime sat down beside her, and they looked around at the survivors, so many more than they'd expected there to be. But there were still so many dead. It would take them hours and hours to move them all; the piles of bodies were practically like towers.

'We're so lucky to be alive right now,' Brienne murmured. 'I can barely believe it.'

'Nor I,' Jaime said quietly. 'They'll sing songs about this night.'

'I'll get Pod right on it,' Brienne said, and she turned to look at him, her gaze tender. 'Thank you for saving my life. Many times.'

'Thank you for exactly the same,' Jaime said gently.

They both smiled softly at each other, though they turned out to be more like grimaces; both their faces were badly scratched and bruised from the battle, along with their bodies. It would take quite a few days to recover. Jaime opened his mouth to say something, but before he could think of the words, Pod had then appeared beside them.

'Milady? Lady Sansa's requested to see you,' Pod said.

'I'll be there right away,' Brienne said, and she shot Jaime an apologetic glance. 'Forgive me.'

Jaime got up to his feet along with her. 'Not at all. I hope Lady Sansa's all right and I'll see you shortly. Don't forget you need to see a maester!' he called after her as she walked away with Pod.

She turned back to him exasperatedly. 'I will in my own good time!' she replied, her tone irritable and yet also playful, and she turned away and smiled to herself as she walked on.

Jaime smiled as he watched her and Pod go. He'd been wanting to talk to her about what had almost been said between them during the battle, but no matter; there was no rush after all. There would be plenty of time in which he and Brienne could talk…days and weeks and months and possibly years, now they had survived the war against the Army of the Dead.

It was only then when he noticed the smug smirk on Tyrion's face from where he had suddenly reappeared nearby; he and Varys were both watching him with raised eyebrows and a twinkle in their eye. He wasn't sure how long they had been watching him. Rolling his eyes, Jaime turned and walked away to get away from their scrutinizing gaze, though he couldn't help grinning softly to himself as he went.

Chapter Text

It took a whole day and night for the dead to be gathered and moved to the burial site outside the castle. During this time, the surviving fighters at Winterfell were split into three groups, which rotated in a cycle – those receiving treatment for their wounds from the maester and his helpers, those who were given time to rest and wash, and those who were helping clean up the castle grounds (inside and out) and move the bodies of the fallen.

Although they stuck close to each other's side whenever they could, Jaime and Brienne didn't get much chance to talk, and certainly not privately. Brienne felt overcome with guilt after discovering that Lady Sansa's life had been in danger down in the crypts, and so tried to stay close to her side until Sansa insisted that Brienne get her wounds seen to. Jaime, meanwhile, stuck close to Pod; the poor squire was feeling rather low, as many of the friends he had made whilst training for the past few weeks had perished during the battle. Once they had finished helping move some of the bodies, Jaime and Pod then headed down to the communal bathhouse to wash away the blood and mud that had dried onto their bruised, beaten skin.

The bathhouse wasn't as grand as the one at the Red Keep, but not as dingy as the one Jaime remembered from Harrenhal, and there were plenty more tubs, already filled with various soldiers cleansing themselves. Pod helped Jaime remove his armour – after all, he was the one who had fetched out an appropriate suit for Jaime and fitted him into it yesterday before the battle, so it only seemed right for him to carry on acting as his squire as well as Brienne's. Once the two newfound friends had stripped down, they found a tub, away from the other men who were eyeing Jaime warily. Evidently they didn't know what to think of him now – they hadn't wanted him here, and yet Jaime had taken command on top of the battlements and they had followed him. Though the northmen were reluctant to admit it, Jaime Lannister had been a great help in the battle.

The hot water stung at Jaime's wounds the moment he climbed into the tub, but he felt his shoulders untense immediately as he sat down. He and Pod remained silent at first as they scrubbed away and washed their bodies clean.

'Did Brienne ever tell you she and I had a bath together once?' Jaime said to Pod after a while, his tone casual.

Pod looked up at him in shock. 'Sh-she what?! You and Lady – sorry, Ser – Brienne had a bath? In the same tub?!' he said in disbelief.

'Hm-hm,' Jaime said smugly, amused by Pod's reaction. 'When we were being held at Harrenhal. I'm assuming she told you of our journey back to King's Landing together.'

'Yes, she did. But…not with all the details, it seems,' Pod muttered, still looking rather appalled as he returned his attention to one particularly bloody scar on his arm.

Jaime looked down at his stump, floating beneath the steamy water. 'Does she tell you many things about her past life?'

'You know what Ser Brienne's like, milord, she doesn't like to talk about anything personal,' Pod replied, but then he paused thoughtfully. 'She talked to me about Renly Baratheon once – the time he danced with her at the ball, to stop those other boys from laughing.' Pod stopped when he saw the look on Jaime's face. 'She didn't tell you about that.'

'No, she did not.'

Pod smiled sympathetically at him. 'Perhaps she was embarrassed.'

'Perhaps. I'm ashamed to say she probably associated me with those boys who laughed at her,' Jaime said heavily, sighing. 'I used to treat her like a joke as well, when I first met her.'

'Well she is…an unusual woman. But she's extraordinary. I couldn't ask for any better knight to be a squire to, and I have you to thank for that, Ser Jaime,' Pod said gratefully. 'She's trained me well and she…she's also been like a mother to me, in a way.'

Jaime smiled. 'I can see that. It's very clear the pair of you would give your life to save each other.'

'And so would the pair of you…if you don't mind me saying so, milord,' Pod added hastily, and Jaime chuckled.

'Of course not, you can say whatever you wish to me, Pod.'

Pod looked up at him, stunned. He felt bad for having pre-judged this man. He felt an urge to reprimand the other squires he knew for speaking so ill of Jaime.

Jaime then bent his head down as he became suddenly fascinated with the bar of soap in his hands. 'Did Brienne ever speak much about me? During your time together, when you were searching for Lady Sansa?' He said it very quietly.

Pod hesitated. He wasn't sure whether he should say. But then again, what was the harm? He, Jaime and Brienne were all friends and on the same side. The three of them had survived something horrific at each other's side, changing their dynamic forever to something closer and more trusting and familiar, and there was no coming back from that.

'Yes, milord,' Pod murmured eventually. 'She mentioned you quite a bit, as a matter of fact. You were always on her mind, I think. Don't tell her I said that though,' he added, grimacing.

Jaime swallowed. 'No doubt she had sordid tales of the many disgusting insults I threw at her while we were forced to be in each other's company.'

'She did tell me about that, yes,' Pod said slowly. 'But she also told me that you lost your hand to protect her, and that you came back for her and jumped into a bear pit with no weapon, even though it delayed you getting back to Queen Cersei. Even though it risked your life. And she told me how you looked after her in King's Landing while she was grieving Lady Stark, and you kept her from harm. Just as you kept us both from harm at Riverrun, when you let us escape that time.'

There was a silence as Jaime slowly looked up at Pod. He blinked rapidly.

Pod smiled reassuringly at him from across the opposite side of the large tub. 'She told me she missed you.'

'She really said that?' Jaime asked, his voice wavering slightly.

'Of course, milord. Why would I lie?'

Jaime shrugged. 'I could imagine Tyrion putting you up to it,' he said, and they both smirked in amusement.

Pod considered him for a moment, then realised he could hide his concern no longer. 'Forgive me, Ser Jaime, but…sharing a bath with a noblewoman like Ser Brienne…was that…proper?' he asked anxiously.

Jaime grimaced. 'No, I suppose it wasn't. But most of our time together in the woods wasn't exactly 'proper',' he said, and he chuckled at the look on Pod's face. 'Oh don't worry, Pod, it was just a bath, nothing happened.'

Oh, but something had happened. Something momentous, something pivotal that had changed the foundation of his and Brienne's relationship forever…

* * *

The steaming water was murky but warm and comforting, and despite the doom and gloom of Harrenhal's fortress, Brienne was pleased to be here in the grimy bathhouse, away from the dangers of the woods and Locke's brutal, sadistic behaviour. Away from Jaime Lannister.

She frowned to herself as she remembered the sound of his yells from merely an hour before, coming from inside the chambers of a man named Qyburn, who was acting as a maester. No doubt the man had been using whatever ghastly means to try and stop the infection from spreading on Jaime's stump. Her concern over the matter rendered Brienne quite confused. After all, she didn't remotely like Jaime; he was the Kingslayer, after all. And yet the painful treatment he had been receiving today for his unsightly wound had left her secretly worried. Did he deserve such agony? Brienne wasn't sure. She wasn't sure about most things anymore.

Brienne was so preoccupied scrubbing away at the muck and dirt dried onto her arms that she didn't hear the two men arrive at the entrance to the bathhouse at first. It was only when Jaime spoke, his voice echoing slyly around the chamber, that her head jerked up in alarm.

'Not so hard. You'll scrub the skin off,' he said, though she couldn't tell if his tone of concern was mocking or genuine. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

Brienne glared up at him from the bathtub. Even stood in the shadows, he looked terrible. He was weak and ill. But that still didn't stop her from being annoyed with him; she had been wanting some peace and quiet. Jaime's presence never allowed that.

'What are you doing here?' she asked disdainfully.

'I need a bath,' Jaime replied wearily, kicking off his shoes, and Brienne shot him a wary glance.

In truth, he'd only been inspired to go for a wash when he'd asked about Brienne's whereabouts, having been concerned that she might have been cornered or trapped somewhere in the castle by Locke or one of his men so that they could finish what they had started with her in the bushes the other week. But he should have known better – Brienne could take care of herself, and besides, the Boltons seemed determined to treat them both better now that they were here, to make up for their mishandling on the road. The moment he'd been informed that Brienne was in the communal bathhouse, Jaime had realised what a good idea it was to cleanse himself of the marks of this dreadful journey so far. Well, not all the marks – his stump wasn't exactly going to heal itself and grow back a hand. But still. Deep down, he just wanted to spend some time with the person with whom he'd shared a horrific experience. And he didn't chastise himself for that.

'Help me out of these rags,' Jaime muttered to Bolton's manservant who had shown him the way to the bathhouse.

Mortified, Brienne kept her eyes averted as Bolton's man helped Jaime disrobe. She tried to concentrate on scrubbing away at her arm, but she couldn't…not when she could hear the sound of Jaime's clothing falling to the floor.

'Now get out.'

Brienne looked up tentatively as Bolton's man hurriedly left up the stone steps, leaving her and Jaime alone in the bathhouse. She watched as Jaime unlaced his breeches with his one hand. Her eyes fell on the slight hint of muscles trailing downwards beneath his stomach. Jaime looked up at her as he slowly pulled his trousers down, curious to know what she was thinking. With a nervous judder in her heartbeat, Brienne looked away and proceeded to scrub her arm more gently, trying not to register the sudden tension that had filled the steam-filled air in the room.

Jaime paused for a moment, gazing over at her in the tub. The water rose to the top of her chest, and he was glad to see her skin looked clean and unbloodied now. Without saying anything, he began to walk over towards her. His slow pace embarrassed him; he had once been able to strut and swagger around as he pleased, but now he was practically doddering, his walk feeble and weary.

Shocked as she realised that he intended to join her, Brienne stopped scrubbing at her arm and tried to move away. 'There's another tub!' she protested, flustered.

'This one suits me fine,' Jaime replied suavely.

His nudity didn't bother him in the slightest, but he knew it unsettled Brienne, and that amused him. Brienne was greatly irritated as she moved as far away as she could from him to the far corner of the tub; why did he always insist on doing anything he could to make her uncomfortable? She couldn't help but glance up at him as he neared the tub and clambered into the hot water; after all, she had never seen a naked man like this so close-up before. He was beautiful but skinny and dirty, his body weakened by fever and confinement. She could make out his ribcage through his chest.

Exhausted, Jaime sat down at the opposite corner of the tub, and he glanced over at Brienne from beneath his long curtains of greasy hair. She was hugging her knees, holding herself close in a little ball with her head bent down, as if trying to protect herself from him. Jaime felt a strange rush of sympathy; she'd been more traumatised by Locke's attempted rape than she'd previously let on.

He sighed. 'Don't worry,' he reassured her, as she glared at him irritably. 'I'm not interested.'

He groaned in pain and closed his eyes as the water stung at the wounds all over his broken, defeated body. Brienne moved uneasily, though she felt herself relax, despite the bizarreness and improper nature of their situation. She didn't often trust a word that came out of Jaime's mouth, but that was something she did believe. There was no way a man like him could ever be attracted to a woman like her. Even looking as he did now, there was no denying that he was remarkably handsome. She wondered what he would like normally, with his face clean-shaven and his hair cut, wearing shiny armour. Brienne looked away, blinking rapidly; she didn't want to imagine that. She couldn't imagine that.

Jaime held his infected stump out of the hot water, fearing that the pain would be too much and not wanting to embarrass himself in front of Brienne. Even he could admit to himself that he was feverish and weak from the loss of blood…not to mention exhausted from the pain of Qyburn's treatment that had both mentally and physically drained him. He felt almost close to collapsing.

'If I faint, pull me out,' Jaime murmured, his words almost slurring with the effort it took him to speak. 'I don't intend to be the first Lannister to die in a bathtub.'

'Why should I care how you die?' Brienne asked coldly, frowning over at him.

There it was again – that sheer contempt she had for him, clear as day, even after all they had been through together. It angered Jaime to the point that he couldn't understand. He was used to the judgements and the cruel remarks and the hateful scowls, he had been for almost two decades now. So why did it bother him so much with her, of all people?

'You swore a solemn vow, remember?' he pointed out loudly, and Brienne averted her gaze. 'You're supposed to get me to King's Landing in one piece.'

Brienne's eyes fell to the bandaged stump he held above the water…a permanent mark of the price he had paid for defending her honour. She felt a lump rise in her throat.

'Not going so well, is it?' Jaime went on mockingly, and Brienne glared at him, the burning look in her eyes a warning. 'No wonder Renly died with you guarding him-'

She was in such a state of rage that she didn't even think; Brienne launched up to her feet and stood, naked, before Jaime, sending a huge ripple of water cascading towards him. Jaime's eyes widened in shock as he stared up at her, lost for words.

Brienne suddenly felt braver than she had felt in a very long time as she glared furiously down at the man who had insulted her yet again in the worst possibly way. After all the psychological torture and physical terror they had been forced to endure together, after all Jaime knew of Brienne's devoted love and service to Renly, he had finally pushed her over the edge. She no longer cared that she was naked. Let Jaime bully her about her appearance, it didn't bother her anymore – she'd heard it enough from him, and so many others, plenty of times before. For the first time, she felt herself putting aside those deep and painful insecurities about her body, and in that moment she realised her power as a woman. Here she stood, proud and enraged, with no armour and no sword, without her needing to exert the more masculine elements of her strength and personality to prove herself.

She had shamed this despicable man into silence, and in doing so she felt feminine for the first time.

Jaime's lips parted as he gazed up at her with wide eyes, not knowing where to look. He struggled as he tried to say something, but then thought better of it. No words could make up for his behaviour and endless insults towards her. Unable to help himself, he felt his eyes fall away from the outraged frown on her face to her body. She was quite toned, with muscles rippling down her flat stomach, and her arms were in good shape. But it was the womanly curves of her waist and breasts that surprised him the most; her body was much more feminine than he'd assumed it would be. Mortified by his train of thought, he glanced back up at her face, at the way she stood tall and proud with her head held high, at those great blue eyes warning him not to dare mess with Brienne of Tarth ever again. He was suddenly glad that she couldn't see beneath the steamy water.

Ashamed, Jaime's face fell and he looked down, trying his best to avert his gaze from between her legs as he did so. He felt overcome with guilt and regret. He couldn't bear to see the hatred in those beautiful eyes of hers, even though he knew he well deserved it.

I can't keep this up anymore, he realised.

He swallowed. 'That was unworthy. Forgive me,' he said in a quiet yet sincere voice, still unable to bring himself to meet her eyes. 'You protected me better than most-'

'Don't you mock me,' Brienne said, her voice barely a whisper as her nostrils flared.

'I'm apologizing,' Jaime said, and he looked up at her.

He realised in that moment that he hadn't just lost his hand while on this journey with Brienne. He had lost his ego as well. And he was desperate to finally have someone on his side, even if it meant removing the golden-lion mask he had relied on for so long. He couldn't have less in common with Brienne, but here they were, arguing as normal, and naked in front of each other. He wondered if, deep down, they held a great affection for one another, and just didn't realise it. He somewhat doubted it – particularly in her case. She was looking at him like he was nothing more than horse shit that had got stuck on her bottom of her shoe. And he had to fix that. He couldn't explain why, not even to himself, but he had to try and fix it.

Jaime gazed up at her with tired eyes, his face scarred and bruised, and suddenly Brienne pitied him. 'I'm sick of fighting,' he murmured, the look in his eyes earnest as his lips trembled slightly. 'Let's call a truce.'

'You need trust to have a truce.'

Jaime hesitated as he stared down at the water, resenting the scornful tone of her voice. 'I trust you,' he admitted eventually, and he glanced back up at her.

Brienne was stunned and confused to hear him say such a thing, but it was true. Inexplicably, he felt like he could trust this woman more than he had ever trusted anyone his entire life. He'd even thought that the two of them had formed some sort of bond since Locke had captured them both. After all, they had been to hell and back, and throughout that time they had both defended each other from Locke and his men, and spoken to each other at night about personal matters they hadn't spoken about to anyone else, if only to distract each other from the nightmare they were both living.

And yet, after all that, he could see even now that Brienne was still judging him. Still loathing him. And he didn't want that at all. Although he hated to admit it to himself, he had come to admire Brienne greatly, and he so desperately wanted her approbation. But it was a lost cause; he could see it in the look of contempt Brienne gave him as she slowly sat back down in the water, her eyes never leaving his. She had chosen to sit opposite him this time, not far away hidden in the corner of the tub – she was no longer afraid or embarrassed. Only Jaime remained vulnerable now.

'There it is. There's the look. I've seen it for seventeen years on face after face,' Jaime muttered bitterly, his voice frail as she averted her gaze; she looked almost guilty. 'You all despise me. 'Kingslayer'…'Oathbreaker'…'Man without honor.''

The last title he'd been given hurt him most of all, almost as much as Brienne's lack of response. She couldn't deny what he had said. All she could do was look away uncomfortably and avoid his penetrating gaze as he glared at her from across the tub, considering her thoughtfully.

'You need trust to have a truce,' she had said.

Strange as it was, he trusted Brienne, not just because he needed to, but because they had risked their lives for one another, to keep the other safe, and because he'd felt able to open up to her on those cold, depressing nights in the woods when he'd felt like there was no point in carrying on living. He understood her as his peer, and he knew that deep down she had already started to see a side of him that he had always kept hidden from everyone…everyone but her. And he was right – even though she didn't like to admit it openly, Brienne knew now that Jaime's notorious deeds of the past weren't all there was to him. And yet, despite knowing this and despite everything they had been through together, she couldn't see past the one basic fact that had plagued him for most of his life. He was still the Kingslayer in her eyes. He was still a bad person, a monster. And Jaime couldn't stand the thought of Brienne seeing him as a monster anymore. Her opinion was the only relevant one, the only one that counted right now…and it was one that Jaime hoped he could change. All he had to do was make that first step in gaining her trust that he so desperately yearned for.

Jaime gave Brienne a scrutinizing look through his drooping eyes; she was still avoiding his eye contact. He made his choice then. All he had left was his deepest, most guarded secret. Perhaps, if he hadn't been so worn down by trauma, pain and the sheer heat of the water, Jaime wouldn't have decided then to reveal to Brienne the truth behind the story of his past…the truth that no one, not even his family, knew in its entirety. But he was so very tired. Tired of her contempt. Tired of their bickering. Tired of keeping up his façade.

And so, in that rare moment of vulnerability and honesty, Jaime began his tale.

Swallowing slightly, he looked at his stump. 'You've heard of wildfire?' he asked her.

'Of course,' Brienne replied quietly, keeping her eyes away.

Her shoulders were tensed up. She wished she could just vanish to anywhere else in the castle, anywhere but here so that she wasn't forced to listen to this man moan and ramble on nonsensically while naked in the bath with her. She was too mentally drained to deal with Jaime Lannister today.

Jaime seemed unperturbed by her attitude. 'The Mad King was obsessed with it,' he went on, his voice weak and fragile. 'He loved to watch people burn, the way their skin blackened and blistered and…melted off their bones.'

Brienne felt herself untense as she realised that Jaime wasn't about to go off on one of his usual self-pitying rants. This was something serious. She adjusted her position uneasily in the tub, not quite sure how to react.

'He burned lords he didn't like, he burned Hands who disobeyed him, he burned…anyone who was against him,' Jaime said, and he raised his eyebrows over at Brienne. 'Before long, half the country was against him.'

What am I doing? he asked himself. Why am I saying this? I shouldn't talk about this.

But still, something in him urged him to continue. 'Aerys saw traitors everywhere. So he had his pyromancer place caches of wildfire all over the city,' Jaime said, and, in spite of herself, Brienne glanced over and met his distressed gaze. 'Beneath the Sept of Baelor and the slums of Flea Bottom. Under…houses, stables, taverns. Even beneath the Red Keep itself.'

Jaime was frowning over at her, practically shuddering as the memories came flooding back to him; she was frowning back, but not in the way he was used to. She looked to be deeply unsettled by what he was saying. He felt like perhaps he had already said too much, but it was late for him to stop now; he had bottled up the story for too long, and it was practically let loose and beginning to tell itself.

'Finally…the day of reckoning came,' Jaime said heavily, and his voice wavered slightly. 'Robert Baratheon marched on the capital after his victory at the Trident. But my father arrived first, the whole Lannister army at his back, promising to defend the city against the rebels.'

His voice was full of scorn. Brienne had never thought of him capable of speaking about any member of his family in such a tone. Where was his Lannister loyalty?

'I knew my father better than that – he's never been one to pick the losing side. I told the Mad King as much. I urged him to surrender peacefully,' Jaime said, almost imploringly; it was crucial that Brienne understood this. 'But the king didn't listen to me. He didn't listen to Varys, who tried to warn him. But he did listen to Grand Maester Pycelle…that grey, sunken cunt. "You can trust the Lannisters," he said. "The Lannisters have always been…true friends of the crown." So…we opened the gates and my father sacked the city.'

He was bitter when he said the words, and it wasn't until the last sentence that he forced himself to look up at Brienne and meet her intense gaze.

Why am I telling this woman? he asked himself again. He couldn't come up with a reasonable answer, only that he knew that this needed to be said and that she was the only person he felt he could say it to.

Brienne continued to listen with bated breath, and despite the warmth of the water she felt herself shiver at the look in Jaime's bloodshot eyes. She could see that he was feverish and lightheaded, and that it was costing him everything to relive that terrible day, but there was something also beseeching in the way he was looking at her. Through all his despair and pain and exhaustion as he told the story, he was begging her for forgiveness.

'Once again, I…came to the king…begging him to surrender,' Jaime whispered earnestly.

His face was scrunched up in torment, as if he might burst into sobs at any moment. He was only realising in that moment just how traumatised he still was from the most horrific event during his youth. Brienne could see the tears beginning to well up in his eyes as he forced himself to go on in an increasingly unsteady voice.

'He told me to…bring him my father's head.'

He had never looked more broken than he did as Brienne gazed pitifully upon him now. He shook his head wearily, as if trying to shake away the mental images from those darkest hours that insisted on coming to the forefront of his mind every single day and night.

'Then he…turned to his pyromancer. "Burn them all," he said,' Jaime went on, his voice breaking, and he gave a little shudder as a single tear rolled down his bruised, bloody, scarred cheek. '"Burn them in…their homes. Burn them in their beds."'

Brienne's face had fallen in horror, appalled and deeply shaken by what she was hearing. It made her feel almost nauseous as she watched Jaime's despair unfold before her very eyes as he relived the memory of that day, stripping away every mask he had worn for so long, dissolving like the dirt on his skin.

Jaime looked up at her bitterly through tear-filled eyes. 'Tell me…if your precious Renly commanded you to kill your own father and stand by while thousands of men, women, and children burned alive, would you have done it?' he demanded in a faint voice, his tone sharp and challenging. 'Would you have kept your oath then?'

Brienne felt her eyes glisten with tears as she swallowed, unable to tear her eyes off him. He was almost shaking with anger and anguish. Guilt and shame washed over her as she finally understood. He had been deemed by most people – herself included – a dishonourable man for doing what she now knew to have been a brave and noble thing. All this time she had been condemning Jaime for something she herself would have done had she been in his position.

She watched him now as his face fell and he stared wide-eyed at the steaming water, almost shocked with himself for how much he had said, how much he had clearly been holding back – not just from the world but from himself. He glanced to the side, hardly able to process what was happening. This was the last conversation he'd ever been expecting to have with Brienne of Tarth while naked and ill in a bathtub.

'First, I…killed the pyromancer,' Jaime murmured, while Brienne watched him and exhaled deeply. 'And then when the king turned to flee, I…drove my sword into his back.'

He glanced up at Brienne's silently shocked face…the only person ever in front of which he had allowed himself to show some vulnerability. She was stunned and breathless by the horrifying words coming out of Jaime's mouth. But mostly she was dismayed by all the suffering Jaime had been put through…and all the disrespect she had shown him since the moment they'd met, all because of the true price of the oaths he had taken.

'"Burn them all," he kept saying. "Burn them all.",' Jaime whispered, and he barely repressed a sob as he turned away and closed his eyes. 'I don't think he expected to die, he…he meant to…burn with the rest of us and…rise again…reborn as a dragon to turn his enemies to ash.'

Jaime let out a deep breath, exhausted. He was expressing feelings and memories that he had never expressed to anyone, not even to himself. The pure, vulnerable real Jaime that he had hidden deep inside had finally been resurrected, and it was draining him.

'I slit his throat to make sure that didn't happen,' Jaime went on in a quiet, pained voice, as he squinted back at Brienne through tired, bloodshot eyes, before resting his head back against the stone of the bathtub edge. 'That's where Ned Stark found me.'

Though the heat and rising steam was making him dizzier with each second, he glanced tiredly through his drooping eyelids to look at Brienne's expression, which had suddenly softened into something earnest and sympathetic. It was as if he had finally cut through that thick armour of hers. He could see it dissolving before him.

Brienne's voice was a lot calmer and softer than he had known before when she finally spoke. 'If this is true,' she said, and Jaime groaned as he inclined his head towards her, relieved and yet also desperate for her to confirm that she did indeed believe him, 'why didn't you tell anyone?'

Her voice was controlled and yet sad, as if she was fighting back tears. She didn't understand; Jaime didn't want the world to know the truth. He wasn't sure if he would ever want anyone else to know – even if they sympathised with the impossible situation he had been faced with, did he deserve their forgiveness and respect? After all the bad deeds he had done in his life since then? He certainly didn't think so.

But he wanted Brienne to know. He wanted her to know who he really was, underneath that mask he wore. He couldn't explain why, but he did.

Jaime sighed and breathed deeply with his eyes closed as he struggled to think of the words to say. He was trying hard not to let his dizziness overwhelm him, but it was too hot in this chamber, far too hot.

'Why didn't you tell Lord Stark?' Brienne asked him slowly.

'Stark? You think…the honourable Ned Stark…wanted to hear my side?' Jaime asked weakly, his voice bitter and defeated, and Brienne felt her chin quiver as she gazed at him despairingly, wishing she could spare him from this agony. 'He judged me…guilty the moment he set eyes on me.'

He was delirious, but Brienne could see why he was so enraged. The self-righteous Ned Stark had automatically assumed Jaime to be a scheming young traitor who had killed Aerys for his own ends, and treated him with disdain without having any understanding of the full facts. Just as Brienne had done. Just as everyone had done. Only now was Brienne truly beginning to see the turmoil Jaime had been forced to endure as a result of his selfless decision to do whatever he could to save the innocent.

Jaime sighed deeply, his eyes almost rolling back as the dizzy heat from the steam hit him once more, and Brienne felt her lips begin to tremble as she watched him struggle.

'By what right does the wolf judge the lion?' He quietly roared the words, the enormity of his trauma finally overcoming him. 'By what right-?'

Brienne's wet eyes widened in alarm as he could keep upright no longer; his weakened, fevered state, along with the stress of relating the tale, had drained him too much. As Jaime collapsed towards her, Brienne reached out with her arms for him without thinking.

She caught him just before he hit the water.

'Help, help!' she cried out to the steps of the bathhouse, and she looked down at the poor, broken man in her arms. 'The Kingslayer!'

Jaime struggled to stay conscious as his head hung back over her elbow, groans of pain emitting from his mouth while he stared up at her face, looming above him and filled with anxiety as she held him. Although grateful for the gentle touch of her secure arms enveloped around him, he couldn't help feeling a little dismayed; even after he had spilled his heart out to her and explained why he had done what had needed to be done, she had still called him 'Kingslayer'.

'Jaime,' he murmured to her weakly, his voice barely a whimper. 'My name's Jaime.'

Brienne could hear the despair in his breathless voice, and it filled her with yet more guilt. She gazed down upon him as she kept him afloat, not caring that she was holding him against her bare breast, and tried to shush him soothingly so that he could get his breathing back to normal.

'You're right. I'm sorry,' she murmured to him, her voice wavering slightly. 'Now just breathe. Everything's going to be all right, help's coming. Qyburn will see to you.'

Jaime exhaled deeply, feeling like he might cry again just for the way Brienne was embracing him at his most vulnerable moment. He had never yearned for the soft touch of a woman's arms so much before. And, for some reason he couldn't fathom, he was glad they were not Cersei's arms holding him right now.

Sure enough, all too soon there came the sounds of hurried footsteps as Qyburn and one of Bolton's men came running down the steps into the bathhouse. They both came to a halt, looking rather stunned, as they caught side of a naked Brienne, holding a naked Jaime in the tub against her bare chest.

'He collapsed,' Brienne explained to them both, her voice ringing loudly and urgently across the chamber. 'Help me get him out, will you? He needs more treatment-'

'What he needs is sleep and milk of the poppy, but the man has refused this,' Qyburn said shortly, but nevertheless he and the other man came walking over to the tub.

'Brienne,' Jaime murmured urgently to her, his voice too quiet and strained for Qyburn to hear as he approached; Brienne leaned down closer to him. 'Don't leave me. Please. Not with them.'

Brienne leaned away, met his imploring gaze, and nodded as she squeezed his shoulder. 'I won't,' she whispered.

A sigh of relief escaped Jaime's mouth as Brienne felt his shoulders finally relax in her arms, and he lost consciousness.

She carefully dragged Jaime over to the side of the tub and pulled him up to where Qyburn waited at the side. Her eyes poured over his face and body, taking in all the various injuries, marks and scars. The water had not managed to wash all the dried blood and mud away, and there were still ugly black and purple bruises on his chest from where Locke and his men had beaten him senseless in the forest. Before, she had not cared but now, suddenly, she was filled with concern and sympathy for his many wounds.

'You can let go of him now, Lady Brienne,' Qyburn said, frowning at her.

Brienne gazed down at Jaime's tear-streaked face. 'I-I can't.'

'You must,' Qyburn insisted; she reluctantly released her hold of Jaime as Qyburn barked instructions at the other man to find Brienne something to cover herself up with.

The man left and returned within moments with towels for both her and Jaime, along with a few more men to help Qyburn carry him out of the bathhouse. By the time Brienne had clambered out of the tub and wrapped herself in the towel, they had already set off, with an unconscious Jaime forced upright between two men as they kept his arms firmly around their shoulders.

'Look after him. Please,' Brienne said urgently to Qyburn as he made to follow them.

'We'll do what we can,' Qyburn said, though his tone and expression was doubtful. 'His stump is…well, it was infected and the severity of-'

'Just do what you must. Make sure he's all right.'

Qyburn tilted his head at her, confused. 'I'm surprised you care, my lady. I thought you were his captor.'

Brienne hesitated for a moment, then recovered her expression. 'Not anymore,' she said firmly. 'Let me know when he's awake.'

'As you wish, my lady.'

He bowed his head at her and walked away. Brienne watched him go, conflicted.

'Don't leave me. Please. Not with them.'

Swallowing, Brienne then rushed after them up the steps. 'Wait,' she called, and Qyburn halted and turned back around to face her. 'I'm coming with you.'

'My lady?' Qyburn said, alarmed. 'But…you're not dressed-'

Brienne looked down at her towel. 'Have some clothes brought to me if my nakedness offends you,' she said, unbothered, as she walked up to join him.

Qyburn looked rather uncomfortable. 'It really would not be appropriate, he might need further treatment on his injury and it wouldn't be pleasant for a noblewoman such as yourself to witness such-'

'He asked me not to leave him,' Brienne cut over Qyburn sharply.

Qyburn considered her for a moment, taking in her stubborn expression, and then sighed in defeat. 'Very well,' he said heavily, and a strange smile appeared on his face. 'You're a loyal person, Lady Brienne. I can't criticise you for that.'

He led their way out of the bathhouse and along the corridors towards his maesters' quarters. It took Brienne a few moments to realise that he meant that she was loyal to Jaime. And he was right. Only this time, Brienne was not ashamed to acknowledge such a fact. She and Jaime were almost kindred spirits, in a way; Brienne could see that now. He had sacrificed his reputation, something tantamount to a highborn warrior born into a powerful family, all for the good of the people. He was a man whose honour and duty to the innocent had been more important to him than anything else. So yes, Brienne was loyal to Jaime. And she knew she always would be from that moment on.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

When Jaime woke to find the blurry outline Pod's anxious face above him, he was confused at first. He hadn't slept in so long – not since he'd arrived here at Winterfell the other day – and his exhaustion after the strain and trauma of the battle seemed to have completely wiped his mind clean for a moment. As his eyes focussed, it all came back to him.

Groaning, he slowly sat up on the small, hard bed. Although Lady Sansa had graciously allowed Jaime to set foot into her home without having him executed, thanks to Brienne, she hadn't been as generous in the accommodations she had provided for him. Admittedly, they had hundreds of people to find lodgings for, so Jaime could hardly blame her for allocating the smallest and dingiest of the castle's spare guest chambers to him. He was grateful for anything at all, when he would have been perfectly happy finding space on a bed of straw in the stables. Anything just so that he could get some well-needed rest.

'This had better be worth waking me up for, Pod,' Jaime muttered warningly, yawning.

'Ser Jaime, the ceremony is due to start soon but I can't find Ser Brienne,' Pod said, his brow creased with worry. 'I checked her chambers, she's not there, and I've asked Lady Sansa but she doesn't know-'

'Calm down, we'll find her,' Jaime said reassuringly, getting out of his bed at once. 'I'm sure she won't have gone too far.'

Once Jaime had dressed, they split up, with Pod to search one side of the castle, and Jaime to search the other. It didn't take long, however, for Jaime to locate the missing knight.

The library was empty, all but for Brienne, sat with her back to the open doorway as she looked around blankly at the fallen bookcases and knocked-over tables and pools of blood and remaining bits of bone crumbled on the floor. Like all the other rooms in the castle, it needed cleaning up – a job that would no doubt take Brienne and the rest of Sansa's household days, possibly even weeks, to complete.

When Jaime stepped tentatively into the room, she didn't look up. He wondered if she recognised the sound of his footsteps, or if she was just too exhausted to be her usual alert self.

'Are you hiding from us?' Jaime said softly.

Brienne looked round. A smile momentarily flickered on her face at the sight of him, but then her face fell back to the miserable expression she had been wearing for the past few hours. Jaime tilted his head at her, concerned. Her hair had been washed and her face was no longer splattered with blood, which was something, but she looked empty inside.

'I just needed a moment to myself,' Brienne murmured, looking down at her lap.

'Would you like me to leave?'

Brienne hesitated, her chin quivering slightly. 'No.'

Sighing sympathetically, Jaime slowly walked over to her. He grabbed a nearby chair that had been turned over and dragged it over to place beside hers. When he sat down, he glanced at her in concern; an unnerving array of red and purple bruises covered her face and hands. He assumed there were more all over her flesh beneath the tunic and breeches she wore.

'Pod told me the maester said there wasn't too much damage done?' Jaime said, watching her uncertainly.

'I just needed a few stitches on my stomach, that's all,' Brienne replied, twiddling her fingers absently. 'What about you?'

'Strangely, I got off lightly compared to most.'

Brienne looked at him then, confused by his tone. 'Why do you sound so surprised? You're Jaime Lannister, remember.'

But Jaime grimaced. 'I try not to remember that, actually.'

'Whatever do you mean?' Brienne asked, frowning.

'Being a Lannister isn't my proudest achievement. The name no longer brings me glory,' he said heavily, 'only pain and hatred for all the things I've done for my house.'

Brienne tilted her head at him sympathetically. 'You're too harsh on yourself. The bad things don't define you, Jaime,' she said softly, and Jaime felt his heart glow inside; he still wasn't used to hearing her address him without his title, and it felt nice. 'You've done good as well, remember. And you should consider your efforts in the battle here a very proud achievement.'

'I do. And I have you to thank for that,' Jaime said gently, and the two shared a smile…before Brienne's eyes began to well up, and she tore her gaze away from his; Jaime's face fell. 'Brienne, why are you so sad? We won.'

'We did…but not without losses,' Brienne replied, and she sniffed. 'Lyanna Mormont was killed.'

'Ah,' Jaime said, understanding, and he sighed. 'She was…the young girl, wasn't she? Feisty little thing.'

'I was very fond of her. Don't ask me why, I-'

'I don't need to ask. She was strong-willed and tough and resilient and spoke her mind, from what little I saw of her. She was you. I'm guessing she was exactly what you were like at her age,' Jaime said, and he found himself imagining a teenage Brienne; the thought made him smile. 'I wish I'd known you earlier in my life. Perhaps things would have turned out differently.'

'But then none of the things would have happened that led you here,' Brienne pointed out. 'Perhaps the gods have some plan and it's all meant to be this way.'

Jaime tilted his head, considering her words. 'Maybe you're right. Maybe the gods are on my side, for once,' he said thoughtfully, and he gave a dry chuckle. 'I wonder how long that will last.'

Brienne attempted a weak smile. Jaime inched closer to her and hesitantly placed his gloved hand over hers. He knew it wasn't just the young girl's death that had affected her so. This had been her first battle, after all, and a battle like none other Jaime nor any other knight had experienced before. The corpses of all who had perished the other night would no doubt claw their way into their nightmares for years to come. Brienne had been one of the bravest of them all out on that battlefield, but even she sometimes struggled to keep her guard up. Jaime could empathise with this better than most; he had been in that dark place himself years ago, and if Brienne hadn't been there for him during that time, he would have sunk further and further down until there was nothing left for him to climb back up for.

'I'm very sorry about Lyanna, Brienne,' Jaime murmured.

Brienne gave a shaky nod, unable to look at him as her lips trembled. 'She was so young,' she whispered, fighting back tears. 'Too young to die like that.'

Jaime gazed at her for a moment, at a loss with what to say, until he remembered the inspiring words Brienne herself had spoken merely the other night in the great hall in front of the hearth.

'At least she died with honour,' he said.

Touched, Brienne looked up at him then, her eyes wet and pupils dilated. She was close to breaking.

Jaime tilted his head sympathetically, wordlessly reassuring her. It's all right. I'm here.

Brienne gave a great shuddering breath as she let the tears fall, and it was almost a relief as she leant into his open arms and wept on his shoulder. Jaime held her close, glad that he could hug her at last without anyone watching or without any bulky armour getting in the way. They stayed like that for a few minutes while Brienne nuzzled her face into his neck and cried, and Jaime stroked her back soothingly.

She was alarmed by her uncharacteristic behaviour; aside from perhaps the time when she had heard of Lady Catelyn's death, Brienne had never cried like this in front of a man, and she had certainly never been held by one in such a way. A few years ago, she knew she would have bottled it up and put on a brave face to the outside world, for all she'd depended on to prove her worth was her tough, masculine exterior. It was a relief for Brienne to know now that she no longer needed to prove any point. She knew her value, as did Jaime, Pod, Sansa, and so many other people here at Winterfell. She felt at home and truly herself at last, and she was finally free to let herself be vulnerable from time to time, to express whatever emotions were playing on her mind, and to seek solace in the embrace of the man she loved. This realisation was almost blissful to Brienne, and soon the tears stopped and she felt herself relax in Jaime's arms.

'Better?' Jaime murmured softly.

Brienne nodded as she slowly leaned away from him. 'Hmm. Is it time?' she asked. 'Is that why you came to fetch me?'

'It is, but…we can stay a bit longer if you like,' Jaime offered, tilted his head at her in concern.

But Brienne was wiping the tears away from her cheeks. 'No. Thank you, but…we should be there,' she said, giving his arm an appreciative squeeze. 'I want to pay my respects.'

Jaime nodded. 'As do I.'

They both rose from their chairs, and Brienne picked up the fur cloak that she'd left over the back of her chair; Jaime held his hands out for it. Brienne hesitated, but then let him drape the cloak over her shoulders. As they left the library together and headed out into the freezing wintery air to join the rest of Winterfell's residents outside the castle walls, Jaime cleared his throat and brought up the subject that had been pressing on his mind rather anxiously since Tyrion had mentioned it to him yesterday.

'Brienne, I…will you be attending the feast later this evening?' he asked, as they walked across the messy remains of the courtyard.

Brienne groaned. 'I think so. You know me, social gatherings aren't my sort of thing, but…Pod really wants to go. You will be, won't you?' she asked, and he couldn't help but notice a hopeful tone in her voice.

'Err, I wasn't going to,' Jaime replied unsurely, 'I'm not sure if I'm still welcome here-'

But Brienne grabbed his arm and rounded on him, her expression stern. 'The dead are defeated. We lost people in the fight, but those who have survived need to celebrate. Everyone,' she said sharply. 'We fought together, remember?'

Jaime gazed at her for a moment, and a smile broke out on his face, a heart-warming smile that made Brienne's heart race. 'Then…y-yes. Yes, I will attend,' he said resignedly. 'May I join you and Pod?'

'Of course. We would love to have you there with us,' Brienne replied, smiling.

They both looked at each other with a flustered expression on their faces as they let that word hang in the air between them. Love. It made Jaime feel almost giddy at the thought of tonight's festivities.

'Speaking of Pod, I'd better find him and let him know I've found you. I'll be back soon,' Jaime said, moving to step away, but then he held back and his hand closed around her wrist. 'You're sure you're all right?'

Brienne looked up at him, dazed by the concerned expression in his eyes. 'I'm fine now,' she reassured him, and she smiled gratefully at him. 'Thank you.'

Smiling back, Jaime gave her a quick nod and then hurried off to locate Pod, who was no doubt still anxiously hurrying around the castle calling out for Ser Brienne.

Brienne joined the large number of smallfolk and fighters alike as they assembled together and walked out onto the battlefield, which had been swept clean of debris, and all the bodies of the fallen had been piled onto dozens of funeral pyres. She was so taken aback by the sombre sight that it took her a few moments to register what a group of northern soldiers nearby were talking about.

Until she heard his name. Well, not his name – far from it, in fact – but the name associated with him. The name that made Brienne's blood boil.

'-Yeah, I saw the Kingslayer helping them this morning, what the hell is he still doing here?'

'He should fuck off back to where he came from-'

'We're meant to be honouring the dead, this is no place for an oathbreaker-'

'My lords, forgive my interruption,' Brienne said sharply, as she marched over to them, 'but you speak of a great knight, who fought valiantly in the battle the other night and practically saved all your skins up on the battlements.'

The three men exchanged a glance before lowering their heads. They looked ashamed.

Brienne held herself up proudly as she glared down at them all. 'And as for your talk of him being an 'oathbreaker' – Jaime Lannister slew a tyrannical, murderous king who threatened to burn the capital and all its people to the ground, because he cared more about the safety of innocents than of his own reputation,' she said loudly, rage and passion burning in her, and the soldiers' lips parted in shock. 'He saved the entire population of King's Landing from destruction, and got nothing back in return, only hatred and cruel remarks and unkind nicknames for all the years that followed.'

A short silence followed. A few other people nearby had stopped to listen to her words, but Brienne didn't care. It was time they knew the truth. It was time they stopped treating Jaime with such disdain and contempt, as she had once done. It was time for Jaime Lannister to be set free.

'So I will personally fight whoever here dares to call him 'Kingslayer' ever again,' Brienne went on in a commanding voice. 'His name is Ser Jaime, and you will give him the respect he is owed. Is that understood?'

The northmen looked up at her, flustered. 'Y-yes, Lady Brienne,' they all chorused at once, their voices suddenly scared and timid rather than the gruff intimidating bellows from before.

Brienne smiled at them. 'Actually, it's Ser Brienne now,' she said, and with that she walked off through the northmen to find Jaime and Pod, leaving a crowd of stunned onlookers in her wake.

Chapter Text

The mirror that had been brought to Brienne's bedchambers was slightly marked and dirty, but it didn't stop Brienne from seeing her reflection clearly enough. She sighed as she looked miserably at her bruised, weary face, and her shapeless hair. It wasn't often that Brienne wished for a different appearance, not when she had accepted hers long ago, but right now, she couldn't help wondering what it would be like to be pretty, and to see men's heads turn the way they did whenever Lady Sansa walked past.

Sansa had kindly asked her handmaiden to help apply rouge to Brienne's face to cover up the bruises as best as she could. Brienne wanted to make a bit of an effort for tonight after all. It was a night for celebration. A night to spend in the company of Jaime, where they could drink and talk and maybe express what they had both been hiding for so very long. If only they had the courage. Alas, facing an angry army of White Walkers seemed to be an easier prospect than that.

As she finished dragging a comb through her hair, desperate to undo the tangles in her short curls, Brienne thought back to the funeral this afternoon. It had been a sombre affair, but respectful. Jon Snow's words had moved Brienne deeply, so much that she was inwardly grateful that she, Jaime and Pod had stayed glued to each other's side as they burned the dead. Her throat had burned and her eyes had stung from all the smoke, but it had felt nice just to have Jaime be part of the group, standing with her people. It had felt like he belonged there, beside her and Pod. And at least now it was over. The dead were gone, and now it was time for the living to rejoice in their victory.

When Brienne emerged from her bedchambers to head down to the great hall, she was surprised to find Lady Sansa waiting outside for her in the corridor.

'My lady,' Brienne greeted.

'Lady Brienne. How are your wounds?' Sansa asked.

'Healing well, I think,' Brienne replied. 'Thank you.'

Sansa stepped forward and looked over Brienne's face anxiously, wincing slightly at Brienne's black eye and the painful-looking bruise on her cheekbone. 'Well the ones on your face don't look quite so severe now, so that's something. Are you looking forward to the feast?' she asked, as together they began walking along the corridor.

'I am actually,' Brienne realised, a rather nervous smile on her face.

There was a mischievous glint in Sansa's eyes when she smiled at Brienne and gave her an approving nod, but she didn't say anything. She knew better than to tease Brienne into not coming to the feast after all.

'Have some fun tonight, Brienne,' Sansa said as they headed down the steps. 'You defended my home, you fought bravely until the very end. Consider yourself off duty.'

Brienne frowned. 'My lady?' She didn't understand such a concept.

'I'll be fine. I'm surrounded by friends and family and people of the North who are loyal to House Stark. I won't need protection tonight, though I am grateful for your service. Go,' Sansa said encouragingly as they reached the front doors to the great hall. 'Be with your friends, have a few drinks, enjoy the food, and stop worrying. Live a little. That's an order, Brienne.'

There was a stern look on Sansa's face, and Brienne knew better than to argue. She smiled humbly at her, grateful.

'Yes, my lady. Thank you.'

When they entered the great hall, Brienne was astonished by the transformation. In merely a day, the hall had been cleared of rubble, blood and bones from the battle, and had been decorated lavishly for tonight's special occasion. Dozens of candles lit up the hall, and long tables and benches had been brought out to accommodate all the guests, with endless food and beverages on offer. The room was packed full of people already eating and drinking; the noise of their chatter and the sheer number of moving bodies walking about left Brienne feeling somewhat uneasy. She could practically see it now; the guests of Winterfell suddenly transforming into rotting corpses and running up to her, snapping and clawing at her. For a moment, Brienne considered turning back and leaving the hall and its people that were haunting her so vividly, until she remembered Jaime and Pod, and she realised that she couldn't let her trauma win. She just needed a drink to calm her nerves; a few cups of wine to get her through this night and help her sleep easy would be a fine remedy, she was sure of it.

While Sansa left to join her brother and his Queen up at the top table, Brienne meandered over to the side of the hall to help herself to a goblet of wine. She gulped it down in merely seconds, and it was a relief to feel the liquid trickling down her aching throat. Blinking rapidly, Brienne then turned on her heel and headed off down one of the table aisles in search of Pod, whom she had agreed to meet here. She could already begin to feel the effects of the wine as she walked on, trying to avoid stumbling on everyone's feet as they sprawled their legs from the benches onto the stone floor.

When she collided into someone halfway down the aisle and felt the wine spill down them both, she knew at once who it was; she only knew one man who would dare to grip hold of her waist the way he did as they steadied themselves.

'Gods, I…I'm so sorry!' Brienne said, aghast, as she looked down at his empty goblet and his stained tunic.

She was absolutely mortified. Why did she have to be so clumsy and bumbling and awkward all the time?

But Jaime merely smirked. 'Don't worry about it,' he said reassuringly as he released his hold of her. 'I'll just get another.'

A nervous chuckle escaped her mouth as she met his amused gaze. Jaime seemed to be in unusually high spirits since they had parted from each other after the funeral today. Mind you, so was she, strangely enough. They were both full of a nervous energy that neither of them could fully comprehend.

'You should…change your shirt,' Brienne suggested.

'It's all right, I'll take it off later,' Jaime said airily, and he swallowed as he met her gaze.

A pause hung between them. Brienne looked away from him, flustered. She couldn't understand why she was so nervous. It was infuriating.

'So…what happens now?' Brienne asked him as the two of them slowly walked up the aisle of the hall together.

Jaime frowned, confused. 'What do you mean?'

'Well, the fighting's done. You've done your duty…you've upheld your oath,' Brienne said, trying but failing to keep the sadness out of her voice. 'You're free to go back to the capital now.'

'And would you like that?' Jaime asked, coming to a halt and turning to face her. 'If I left?'

Brienne felt her lips part, stunned, at the way he tilted his head at her, with that taunting smile and his raised eyebrows and that challenging glint in his eyes. He had rarely ever been flirtatious with her like this before. Did he know what it did to her when he looked at her like that?

She stared at him, trying to keep her composure. 'Don't play with me, Jaime,' she said, her lips twitching slightly.

'On the contrary, you seem to be the one playing with me,' Jaime said, and he took a few steps towards her, closing the distance between them; Brienne was taken aback. 'Perhaps I should remind you of the certain cruel remarks you made to me during our first few days together. Then you would know why I doubt whether or not I'm still welcome here.'

He was teasing her, and she wasn't used to it. Nor was she used to their proximity, and how unbothered he clearly was by the surrounding people watching them curiously.

'You know I didn't mean what I said back then, that was years ago-'

'Oh, but you did,' Jaime interrupted, grinning.

'All right,' Brienne admitted irritably, and she raised an eyebrow at him. 'Then perhaps I should remind you of the cruel remarks you made to me during our first few days together.'

Jaime smirked at her; he did love her so very much. 'Fair point. We did hate each other, didn't we?'

'I feel like 'hate's a strong word,' Brienne said thoughtfully, looking around at the guests self-consciously, and Jaime chuckled.

'That's true,' he agreed, and his expression turned more serious as he looked at her carefully, though he still wore a hint of a soft smile. 'Would it make a difference? If I stayed here?'

'Probably not to most people,' Brienne replied casually, avoiding his intense gaze as she continued to look around, suddenly wishing for Pod to come and save her from her embarrassing awkwardness.

Jaime took another step forward. 'And are you 'most people', Ser Brienne?'

Brienne's expression faltered slightly as she met his gaze. Since when had he been so forward? Her lips trembled into a nervous half-smile, and Jaime felt like if the room hadn't been filled with people, he would have kissed her there and then.

As if he had read her mind, Pod then appeared out of nowhere beside them, startling them both. 'Milady, milord – I've saved you both a seat!' he said eagerly, gesturing to the far end of the table at the left.

Brienne glanced at Jaime, whose eyes were still boring into hers; she stepped away from him and turned back to Pod, blushing. 'Thank you, Pod.'

As they followed Pod to the table, Jaime was perplexed to see a few of the soldiers and women greet him warmly and nod respectfully at him as he passed. Had the battle somehow rid these people of their former prejudices against him? It was utterly baffling.

Brienne sat down beside Pod at the table; Jaime went around to sit on the other bench so that he was opposite her. Tankards of wine and a huge array of food lay before them, the delicious smell wafting through their nostrils. The three of them soon began to dig in, and as they poured more wine and filled themselves up with food until they were bursting, Brienne found that her nerves were slowly fading away. She could talk and joke freely around Jaime now, with no one to reprimand her for it – not even herself. After all, tonight was a night of drinking and laughter and appreciating the fact that they were somehow still alive. It was a miracle that they were still here really, and they all knew it.

The festivities paused momentarily as Daenerys stopped Gendry in front of all assembled to publicly declare him as the legitimate, rightful son of Robert Baratheon and the new Lord of Storm's End, as reward for his heroism during the battle. Pleasantly surprised by the dragon queen's kind act, everyone stood up and raised a glass to Gendry Baratheon. After the toast, they sat back down, and Brienne's head began to swim as she glanced over at Jaime sat opposite her. She was intoxicated, not only with the over-indulgent goblets of wine she'd kept drinking, but also with the nearness of Jaime and the heartfelt warmth in his loving gaze.

When Pod reached over to pour Brienne some more wine from the pitcher, she immediately raised her hand and covered her cup. It was water she needed, not more wine; she wasn't used to alcohol and she didn't want to drink too much. But then she felt a tingling heat in her fingertips as Jaime covered her hand gently with his own. He had done that once before at a dining table, she remembered, long ago. It left her just as shaken as it had done then, for their bare skin to be in contact, only this time her heart was pounding in excitement.

His thumb brushing against her knuckle, Jaime then moved her hand away from the cup and back down to the table. Brienne gazed down at their hands for a moment before slowly looking up at him. They had held hands during the battle and when Jaime had comforted her in the library earlier today, but those occasions had been different – their hands had been covered up with gloves, and both times they had been in a sombre or desperate mood in need of comfort, and not in the public eye. But here they were surrounded by people at a feast, and Jaime didn't seem to mind at all that people could see.

'We fought dead things and lived to talk about it,' Jaime said to her as he picked up the pitcher and poured the wine himself into her goblet. 'If this isn't the time to drink, when is?'

Brienne considered him for a moment as he poured himself another cup, then glanced warily down at her filled-up goblet.

Is he trying to get us drunk?

Jaime raised up his goblet, and with a nervous smile Brienne nodded in agreement and held up her goblet as well, melting at the sight of his encouraging smile as he looked at her admiringly and tapped his goblet against hers. After all, how could she resist that tender gaze of his? And he had a point – it was time to celebrate, and it was about time she learnt how to do it properly. They both took generous sips from their goblets, neither of them taking their eyes off the other.

As the night went on and more people joined in with the heavy drinking, the mood lightened somewhat and the hall became much more celebratory, as Jaime had hoped it would. People were moving about, making toasts and boasting about their heroic deeds and triumphs in the battle, and the hall kept erupting in cheers. Jaime and Brienne stayed sat down, making an effort not to exclude Pod as they exchanged soft, heart-fluttering glances across the table and talked of anything but the battle and the wights: Brienne and Pod's mission to find Lady Sansa, for example, and their encounter with Jaime at Riverrun.

Brienne's words became less constrained as she drank more and settled into the flow of their conversation, and it cheered Jaime to no end to see her just being her, free to say and do what she pleased, without constantly focussing on her duties to Lady Sansa. The two of them could simply continue to reminisce over wine and dinner, and perhaps Jaime could show her what she had been missing. After all, he could be charming when he wanted to be, couldn't he? Although it had been such a long time since he had made this sort of effort with anyone. He'd never tried to court a woman before and he'd certainly never wooed Cersei – that had all been on her part and their pent-up feelings of lust that had brought them colliding angrily together in something Jaime saw now to be so toxic and horrific.

But now he was here, with Brienne sat opposite him wearing a nervous smile as she kept glancing over at him and fluttering her eyelashes, and it was all so very new and strange and unnerving. But it was exciting as well, mainly because they both knew. Their longing for each other was blatantly apparent. All they had to do was act on it…but that was easier said than done.

* * *

The first time Jaime and Brienne had dined together – at a table, rather than sat by a lake or tied up to a tree – had been much less fun and with practically no laughter. The tense meal had taken place in the foreboding fortress of Harrenhal with their host, Roose Bolton, who had terrified Jaime almost as much as his own father had.

When a worn and woozy Jaime emerged from Qyburn's quarters, the bandage on his stump having recently been re-dressed after his collapse in the bath, he hesitated in the gloomy, damp corridor. He was supposed to wait for one of Lord Bolton's soldiers to come and escort him to the dining chamber. But Jaime wasn't a fan of waiting, and he didn't want to go into the monster's den without his confidant at his side. So Jaime turned and walked along the corridor in the direction of Brienne's allocated chambers.

He was stronger now after a long rest, and he almost felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders after revealing his traumatic story to Brienne in the bath earlier today. In doing that and trusting her with his horrifying tale that had distressed him so much to relate, he could feel himself changed inside. But, despite feeling slightly better, he knew he was still vulnerable here. He was Roose Bolton's hostage, to do with as he pleased. Him and Brienne still weren't free.

When he saw Brienne coming out of her chambers, he came to an abrupt halt and his eyes widened in shock. She was dressed in an elegant pink velvet gown lined with moth-eaten fur. The dress was a little frumpy and faded – judging by its dusty, aged appearance, it was an old dress that had been left behind by someone else. Pink was not a good colour on Brienne, and the pompous dress didn't fit her properly, but, despite her obvious intense dislike of having to wear such ludicrous attire, Jaime was forced to admit to himself that she looked quite good in it. Well, maybe not good – he'd never go that far. But decent.

As Jaime gawped at her, Brienne froze and scowled at him. Her expression of disgust gave him a bizarre urge to burst out laughing, but he resisted.

He cleared his throat. 'Gods, you look-'

'More hideous than usual? I'm well aware,' Brienne snapped, closing the door to her chambers behind her.

She was absolutely horrified by it. After returning from Qyburn's quarters, some of Bolton's soldiers had mockingly provided this dress for her from an old trunk found in the upper levels of the castle, claiming it was the only item of clothing large enough to fit her. She looked absurd in it.

Jaime struggled to find the right words as he took in her disgruntled expression. They had shared a moment before. Not just in the bathtub, but afterwards as well. And since that moment of honesty and intimacy between them earlier today, he felt inclined to suppress his urge to be cruel to her.

'They've put you in that to make you uncomfortable,' he said in a low voice, and he looked around the corridor anxiously to make sure they weren't being overheard. 'Don't give Bolton the satisfaction.'

Brienne gave an awkward nod, surprised that he was trying to reassure her. Regardless of Jaime's words, she still felt remarkably stupid. She was being forced to conform to established norms of so-called feminine clothing, and it angered her. The dress was even tight across her bust, enough to reveal a hint of cleavage, which was beyond mortifying for her. She tried to hide it as she folded her arms now, but this only made Jaime notice the low fur neckline more prominently.

He wished he'd been given something different to wear. All he had left were the smelly dirty rags that had been on his back for the past year.

There was a rather awkward pause as they both averted each other's gaze. Merely hours before, Brienne had come to see him in Qyburn's chambers, to check that he was recovering after fainting in the bath. She had sat at his bedside and helped wash his face and cool his temperature while he'd let the tears trickle from his tired, bloodshot eyes. He had never let anyone see him like that before. Never. Similarly, Brienne had never spoken to anyone – well, anyone like Jaime Lannister – in such a gentle tone before. It made her flustered now to think of her tender behaviour towards him earlier. Although she knew now that he didn't deserve her scorn and hostility, she would still have to make more of an effort to be her usual frosty, guarded self around him from now on, or he would think she'd gone soft. And she couldn't have that.

Jaime stepped forward to her, breaking her out of her reverie. 'I'm rather looking forward to this; we haven't had a proper meal in far too long. Let us just hope they don't poison us, though it wouldn't surprise me if they do,' he said bracingly, his voice much less frail than it had been a few hours earlier, and he offered her his arm. 'Shall we, my lady?' He said it ironically.

Brienne tilted her head at him, exasperated. Rolling her eyes, she stalked ahead without taking his arm, wanting to get this over with. Jaime watched her go for a moment with a hint of an amused smile on his face, before following her wearily in the direction of the hall where they had been told to meet their gracious host.

Roose Bolton was already waiting for them at the dining table when they arrived, and his manservant was just finishing laying out the drinks and food. Jaime's eyes felt like they would burst out of their sockets in joy as he took in the sight of the hot meals awaiting him and Brienne.

'Ser Jaime. Lady Brienne,' Lord Bolton greeted politely in his deep, smooth voice. 'You both must be ravenous. Please, do sit.'

'It's very kind of you to have us here, Lord Bolton,' Jaime said, trying his hardest to speak without his usual sly tone, as he and Brienne took their allocated seats. 'Ah, steak!'

He looked down at the table to see that he had only been given one very blunt fork. He glanced at Brienne and caught her eye; she shook her head subtly at him, with a look that plainly told him: just deal with it.

As Roose Bolton turned to fetch the pitcher of wine from the cabinet behind him, Jaime leaned closer to Brienne.

'There's no gravy,' he mouthed in outrage to her, gesturing the dry lumps of meat and potatoes on their plates.

'What?!' she whispered back to him incredulously, leaning closer to him.

'No gravy-!' But she slapped his arm quietly as Bolton turned slowly back around to face them; Jaime stopped moving his lips and leaned away from Brienne at once.

Bolton smiled at them both as he sat down, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. 'Please, make a start,' he said, gesturing to the food before them.

Jaime immediately picked up his fork and began stabbing at his piece of steak, but neither Brienne nor Bolton felt quite ready to touch their food yet; they were too busy staring at one other, trying to determine what was going on beneath those steely expressions. Brienne glanced over at Jaime as he struggled to cut through his meat with his one hand. She felt anger ripple through her; Bolton had given Jaime a tough steak deliberately, so that he would have problems with it and be subjected to humiliation. And as if that wasn't enough –

'I see my men have finally found you something appropriate to wear,' Bolton said, watching her closely from across the table.

Brienne stared at him, struggling to keep her fury under control. She was tempted to shout or curse at him when she suddenly felt Jaime's leg press gently against hers while he continued to try and carve his meat. She swallowed.

'Yes. Most kind of them,' Brienne replied, trying to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

Bolton's lips twitched. He wasn't fooled.

Irritated with his lack of progress with the steak, Jaime put down his fork and reached over to the other side of the table where there was a spare knife. He may well not have adjusted to life without his dominant hand as well as he had hoped he would, but perhaps this implement of cutlery would work better for him. As he carried on trying but failing to carve out a tiny piece of meat, Brienne proceeded to speak politely with their host.

'You're a Stark bannerman, Lord Bolton,' she said. 'I am acting on Lady Stark's orders to return Jaime Lannister to King's Landing.'

'When King Robb left Harrenhal, his mother was his prisoner. If she wasn't his mother, he'd have hanged her for treason,' Bolton pointed out, as Jaime continued to strenuously attempt to cut his food.

Fed up with seeing him struggle, Brienne grabbed her own fork, reached out and stabbed Jaime's steak with a mixture of pity and annoyance. Jaime froze for a fraction of a second, and glanced hesitantly up at her.

She raised her eyebrows at him as she kept the steak still. Let me handle this.

Flashing her a grateful hint of a smile, Jaime then bowed his head low, ashamed and embarrassed, and finished cutting out a slice of the steak. The fact that she was helping him, let alone treating him like a human being, was something Jaime had ill been used to this past year and a half. It was greatly refreshing.

Bolton smiled, intrigued, as he surveyed his two guests. Even if they couldn't see it for themselves, he could tell just how they had evolved to be so much more than a captor and hostage.

'I should send you back to Robb Stark,' Bolton said, as Brienne removed her fork from Jaime's steak.

'You should. But instead, you're sitting here…watching me fail at dinner,' Jaime said coolly, holding up the tiny piece of steak he'd managed to cut and twiddling it about on his fork. 'Why might that be?'

'Wars cost money,' Bolton replied simply, as he watched Jaime take a bite of the steak. 'Many people would pay a great deal for you.'

'We both know who would pay the most,' Jaime said, locking his eyes with Bolton's. 'Or make you pay the most if he found out you had captured me and sent me back up north for a summary execution.'

Brienne couldn't believe that, even after losing his hand, Jaime was casually threatening the most sadistic house in Westeros. She had to admire him for it.

'You're right,' Bolton said thoughtfully. 'Perhaps the safest thing to do is to kill you both and burn your bodies.'

Brienne quietly picked up her knife but Jaime had already covered her hand with his own before Bolton had had time to register her threatening movement. Without consciously realising it, Jaime had grown accustomed to noticing Brienne's every little move and miniscule expression over these past few weeks. Even sick and infected, even when bargaining for his life and thinking harder than he'd ever had to in order to free them both from this place, he was still attentive to her. Brienne felt a spark rush through her the moment his fingers gently clasped hers, wordlessly reassuring her that it was all right, that he had it handled, that it was not necessary for her to reach over and stab Roose Bolton, as she so longed to do.

Without taking his eyes off Bolton, Jaime carefully lowered the knife in Brienne's soft hand. 'It would be,' he replied calmly, his hand lingering over Brienne's, 'if you honestly believed my father would never find out about it.'

Once he was sure she wouldn't do anything with the knife, Jaime slowly removed his hand from hers. The casual intimacy and feeling of familiarity between them from this simple gesture was almost more alarming to Brienne than the fact that she had held him naked in a bathtub this morning. They could communicate without words or without even looking at each other now. It was quite unnerving how quickly they had become attuned to one another.

'King Robb is keeping your father quite busy,' Bolton retorted smoothly, raising his eyebrows at Jaime. 'He doesn't have time for anything else.'

'He'll make time for you,' Jaime promised quietly, refusing to break eye contact with the imposing man sat opposite him.

There was a pause as Bolton simply stared at him, considering his words. Brienne didn't know why he kept up the act; it was obvious that Bolton had made his decision on what to do with the pair of them long before they had entered this room.

Bolton then let out a deep exhale. 'As soon as you're well enough to travel, I will allow you to go to King's Landing as restitution for the mistakes my soldiers made,' he said in his deep, firm voice, as Jaime watched him distrustfully. 'And you will swear to tell your father the truth – that I had nothing to do with your maiming.'

There was a tense pause as Jaime eyed him suspiciously. A 'Stark bannerman', Brienne had called him. But from where Jaime was sitting, it seemed that Roose Bolton was plotting to change allegiances. Unless he had already done so.

A slight frown on his face, Jaime then slowly began to nod, and reached out for the pitcher of wine. 'Shall we drink on it?' he suggested, reaching to pour some wine into Bolton's empty goblet.

But Bolton held his hand out over his goblet. 'I don't partake.'

Jaime stared at him and leaned back, perplexed. 'You do understand how suspicious that is to ordinary people?' he said as he poured some wine into Brienne's cup and then his own. 'Very well. My lady – may our journey continue without further incident.'

He turned to Brienne and held up his cup to clink against hers. Before she had time to respond, Bolton had already spoken up.

'Oh, she won't be going with you.'

Jaime's face fell.

Brienne, on the other hand, maintained a calm expression; she barely even batted an eye, despite the way her heart was thudding in dread. 'I am charged with bringing Ser Jaime to-'

'You are charged with abetting treason,' Bolton interrupted simply, and Brienne's false polite smile disappeared, upset by his statement; treason was not in her character at all…after all, she had only been fulfilling her oath.

For the first time since entering this room, Jaime felt genuinely afraid. But not for himself, he realised.

'I'm afraid I must insist,' Jaime said, quietly but firmly.

Brienne turned to look at him, startled; she has never heard him speak of her as if he had a personal stake in her wellbeing.

But Bolton was having none of it. 'You're in no place to insist on anything. I would have hoped you'd learned your lesson about overplaying your…' – he cocked his eyebrow as he glanced pointedly at Jaime's stump – 'position,' he finished in a delicate, sardonic tone.

Jaime simply stared at him hopelessly. He hated him but he was powerless against him. There was nothing he could do. A lump rose in his throat as he turned slowly to face Brienne. Her eyes met his beseechingly, her expression uneasy. It made him feel suddenly quite nauseous, and he pushed his plate away.

How could he go on without her? After everything they had been through together, after what had transpired between them today? How could she not come with him?

It was all his fault, Jaime realised. If he hadn't taken her sword on that stupid bridge and tried to fight her out of his sheer boredom and pride and arrogance, then they would have avoided all of this. They would have almost reached the capital by now, and Brienne would have been safe and away from the clutches of this quietly terrifying man. Jaime's lips parted as he tried to form the words to Brienne, but he didn't know what to say, not with Bolton watching them so beadily from across the table. Instead all he could do was gaze at her apologetically and hoped she understood how much he sincerely regretted all that had happened to lead her to this point. She deserved better than that. So much better.

Bolton smiled and raised his eyebrows at them both as he finally began to tuck into his meal. 'I must confess, this is rather touching. Your loyalty may well be the death of you, Ser Jaime. I see now why they call you two 'the lovers',' he said smoothly.

Jaime's nostrils flared and Brienne's hand fell on her knife once more as both their cheeks reddened in horror; Jaime quickly put his hand over Brienne's again to stop her doing anything reckless. Bolton's lips twitched in amusement.

'Although – and I don't mean any offence by saying this, my lady – I'd say you could do better, Ser Jaime,' he went on, unperturbed by Jaime's furious glare as Brienne's eyes dropped to her lap. 'I'm sure your sister would agree.'

At this Jaime leapt to his feet, livid. Brienne jerked her head up at him, alarmed by his reaction; he looked outraged, his eyes threatening to burst from their sockets in fury. He wanted to yell but as Brienne tentatively reached for his wrist and held it, he realised that he couldn't without risking them both. Lord Bolton was smiling at him, challenging him to say what he knew Jaime was bursting to say.

Jaime glanced down at Brienne, enraged for the way Bolton had insulted her.

Don't do it, her eyes told him.

He turned back to Bolton, his expression unsteady as he glared across the table into Bolton's sneering eyes. 'Thank you for dinner,' he forced himself to say, though his voice shook with anger.

And with that Jaime turned on his heel and stormed out of the chamber. Bolton watched him go, and despite his strange ability to keep his expression constantly serious, it was clear that he was enjoying every moment of this. He turned expectantly to a flustered Brienne.

She was red in the face. 'Yes. Thank you,' she said curtly to Bolton as she rose to her feet. 'My lord,' she added.

'Are you not hungry, my lady?' Bolton asked tauntingly, gesturing her full plate. 'You haven't touched your food.'

Brienne stared at him, trying hard to keep herself from scowling. 'I don't have much of an appetite, I'm afraid. Please forgive me,' she said, before turning her back on him and walking away to follow Jaime out of the hall.

'Just so you know, Lady Brienne,' Bolton called after her, and she halted, 'you will be escorted to new accommodations tomorrow, at a different wing of the castle. They won't be as comfortable, I'm afraid, but please don't take it personally – I just feel it best that you and your dear friend are kept at some distance from one another, until he's fit enough to depart for the capital. I'm sure you understand.'

Your dear friend. Brienne felt her knuckles crack as she turned back to face him.

'So I am to be your prisoner,' she said coolly.

'Well it depends which way you want to look at it, my lady. But you must see the difficulty of my situation,' Bolton said, and there was a hint of a smirk on his face as he looked at her. 'Besides, I can't simply deprive Locke of all his goods now, can I?'

Rage flickered momentarily in Brienne's expression as she took an angry step forward, but then she thought better of it. Saying nothing, she turned and swept dramatically from the hall. She strode furiously down the corridor to head back to her chambers, only she came to a halt when she saw Jaime stood by the open archway that led to the battlements, waiting for her as the wind blew softly in his long greasy hair. He looked guilt-ridden.

Brienne frowned as she walked over to him. 'What are you still doing here?' she asked.

'I…' Jaime cleared his throat. 'I wanted to escort you back to your-'

'Well that won't be necessary,' Brienne interrupted shorty, as she turned to carry on down the corridor. 'Thank you.'

Jaime rolled his eyes, barely repressing a snort. 'I'll find a way. I'll get past that cold exterior, you know, one way or another.'

Brienne stopped walking and tilted her head at him. 'Bolton won't change his mind. You're a fool if you think otherwise.'

'I was talking about you,' Jaime said, raising his eyebrows at her. 'Though…perhaps I've already succeeded. You were kind to me today, in Qyburn's quarters. Thank you.'

Brienne swallowed as she looked down, flustered. She didn't know what to say.

'And…I'm sorry,' Jaime went on hesitantly; the words were unfamiliar to him, for the golden lion of House Lannister never needed to apologise for anything…but he meant them. 'I'm the reason we got into this mess. You shouldn't be kept with Bolton or charged with treason, it's not right.'

There was a pause as Brienne simply looked at him.

'Well 'sorry' won't do me any good now,' she muttered eventually, and with that she turned on her heel and walked away; Jaime let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes.

She was halfway down the gloomy corridor when she thought of the way Jaime had touched her hand and stuck up for her in that ghastly dinner.

'I'm afraid I must insist.'

Up until now, she had always thought that Jaime had seen her as much of a burden as she had seen him, and had very much looked forward to the day he would be rid of her. And yet now, when he no longer needed Brienne to return him home or to fulfil his oath, he wanted her to be with him, as a comrade…or, dare she say it, a friend?

Brienne slowly turned back around to face Jaime still stood by the battlements; she met his desperate, sorrowful gaze. Swallowing, she began to slowly walk back towards him, the pink velvet of her dress swishing around her ankles as she went. Jaime felt relief spread through him as he watched her approach, and for a moment she looked like the warm Brienne he'd briefly seen within her earlier today, in Qyburn's quarters.

'Lord Bolton is moving me to a new part of the castle tomorrow,' Brienne said, when she reached him.

'What, why?' Jaime demanded urgently, horrified.

'I don't know. Perhaps he thinks a cell would be more fitting for my new position here at Harrenhal,' Brienne replied heavily.

Jaime cursed under his breath as he turned irritably to look out over the battlements to survey the yards below. He had never seen a more miserable, terrifying fortress in all his life.

'He can't keep you here,' he muttered.

'Yes, he can. He's Roose Bolton.'

'And I'm Jaime Lannister,' he said desperately. 'That has to mean something.'

'So what would you do?' Brienne asked, her tone challenging.

'I'll…I'll refuse to go.'

Brienne frowned at him, touched but also appalled by such an idiotic gesture. 'You'll do no such thing.'

'But-'

'I'm not important. I'm expendable, that's why he's keeping me here. What's the point in both of us being killed if we defy him?' she pointed out, and a strangely warm sensation surged through both of them at the word 'we'.

Jaime looked down, conflicted. She may be expendable to the mission. But she wasn't expendable to him.

'Do as Lord Bolton says,' Brienne said firmly as she leant on the battlements beside him. 'Not that you have any choice in the matter. I'll be fine, I can take care of myself.'

'I know that.'

They looked at each other for a moment. Jaime's eyes ran down her dress again, still surprised to see her wearing such a ridiculous get-up without looking horrendous. She looked like a real lady. But it wasn't her. It wasn't the look of the woman he had begrudgingly come to admire. So the sight of her being forced to wear such a thing irritated him even more.

There was a pause as he turned heavily to look once more out across the battlements. After some deep thought, he then turned back to her. Her face was set in its usual sour expression as she too stared out at the yards below…her new home.

'I'm not important. I'm expendable.'

She really didn't see her own worth. She had no idea just how much he depended on her now, how much he valued everything she said and did.

Jaime swallowed. 'I'll ask Qyburn to send a raven to your father informing him of your situation,' he said, and Brienne frowned at him questioningly, confused. 'It's not far, it'll only take a few days for it to fly to Tarth and back. It will be quicker than waiting for me to reach King's Landing so that I can pay your ransom.'

'You don't have to-' Brienne protested, but Jaime cut over firmly.

'I'm not abandoning you without a way out. I'll have Qyburn write to your father. End of discussion.' He almost snapped the words; anything to get her to shut up, for she looked to have every intention of arguing with him.

Brienne stared at him for a moment, stunned, then averted her gaze in embarrassment. She didn't know what she was feeling or what she was thinking. All she knew was that this man confused her more than anyone she had ever met.

'I'll say goodnight, my lady,' Jaime then said, looking equally as flustered.

They both nodded stiffly at each other, unsure of what to make of this new dynamic that had sprung up between them in the space of merely a day, and Jaime turned to leave. He'd only made it a few steps away when he turned back to her.

'You're wrong, by the way,' he said, and he forced himself to bring his gaze up to meet hers. 'You are important.'

Brienne's lips parted. She was lost for words. Jaime swallowed nervously, discomforted; it wasn't like him to say something like that. It wasn't like him at all. Averting his gaze, he then gave her another nod and walked away. Brienne remained behind on the battlements as she watched him go, too stunned to move. It was in that moment when she realised that her and Jaime's relationship was far more layered and complicated than either of them had ever previously thought.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

Tyrion was well on his way to being drunk. Once the food had been cleared away from the top table he had been making the rounds, talking to the large varieties of people gathered in the great hall. But now he was in the mood for some fun. It was then when he looked over at the cosy group sat at the far end of the table on the left of the hall; he could see Pod looking rather out-of-place while Jaime and Brienne made rather pathetic attempts to flirt with each other across the table. Tyrion smirked triumphantly as he made his way over to them.

'Hello, dear friends,' he greeted enthusiastically, as he plonked himself down on the spare seat beside Jaime.

'Ah. You're joining us, are you?' Jaime asked, raising his eyebrows warily at his little brother.

'Yes. Now let's play a game,' Tyrion said with relish, leaning forward on the table. 'Let's see how well we all really know each other.'

Brienne looked sceptical. 'Lord Tyrion, I hardly know you at all,' she pointed out.

'Well tonight's your lucky night, my lady, because you're about to!' Tyrion said playfully.

The smile fell from Jaime's face as he slowly looked around at his brother with raised eyebrows, unimpressed. Tyrion saw the look in his eyes and burst into nervous laughter.

'I didn't mean…don't worry, I'm not going to try and add to your competition,' Tyrion reassured him, and he glanced pointedly over at Tormund, who was roaring with laughter over at the top table with Jon Snow.

'Excuse me?' Brienne said, mortified, and Jaime closed his eyes, barely suppressing a groan.

'Oh, don't mind me. I just love to make things awkward,' Tyrion said, and Pod let out a nervous giggle. 'It's my speciality apparently.'

Brienne looked questioningly at Jaime; he avoided her gaze as he smiled exasperatedly and covered his face with his hand. Tyrion had better not ruin this for him.

'Now, how good of a judge of character are you, Ser Brienne?' Tyrion asked.

Brienne's eyes flickered nervously to Jaime, still rather stunned by what Tyrion had just explicitly stated in front of them all. 'I'd say I'm fairly good,' she said warily.

'Hmm…I'd say you're average, at best,' Jaime said jokingly, and she kicked him under the table; all three men laughed, and the mood relaxed at once.

'Well we're about to put it to the test, for all of us,' Tyrion said. 'Here are the rules: I make a statement about you're past, and if I'm right, you drink.'

'And if you're wrong, you drink?' Pod guessed.

'Clever lad. We'll take it in turns of course, to give everyone a fair shot. How about it?' Tyrion asked eagerly.

'Well this game hardly seems fair considering you and Ser Jaime are brothers and know a great deal more about each other than Pod or I do,' Brienne pointed out, and Jaime's lips twitched; he liked how the wine made her more confident.

Tyrion raised his eyebrows sceptically. 'I wouldn't be so sure about that. You and Ser Jaime have spent a lot of time together getting to know each other, just the two of you.'

Jaime and Brienne looked at each other, alarmed.

'Wh-what-'

'Err, I wouldn't say that exactly-' Jaime said nervously.

'-what do you mean?' Brienne asked, horrified.

But Tyrion was chuckling. 'There's no need to panic, I was only referring to your journey from the Riverlands to King's Landing.'

'Oh.'

'Hmm.' Tyrion smirked as he glanced knowingly between them both. 'This is going to be a lot more fun than I anticipated. Shall we begin?'

'I'm not sure if I'll join,' Brienne said doubtfully, casting the pitcher of wine an uneasy glance. 'Games aren't exactly my forte and I shouldn't really drink any more…'

She was tipsy and felt quite light-headed. What if she said something she shouldn't? She wasn't sure she liked the way Tyrion kept looking at her and Jaime.

'Oh yes you should. Give yourself a night off for once, have some fun,' Jaime urged. 'Don't do what you should. Do what you want.'

Brienne met his gaze and knew that he was right. She had let her duty take precedence all her life. How harmful would it be if she freed herself from her obligation for just one night? She looked up hesitantly at Sansa at the other end of the hall; she caught her eye and gave Brienne an encouraging nod and smile. Brienne turned back to Jaime and his brother apprehensively.

'All right then.'

Jaime, Tyrion and Pod cheered. Jaime reached over without thinking and gave her hand an enthusiastic squeeze, reassuring her that it was all right, that she could let herself loose a bit, that this would be fun. Tyrion and Pod exchanged a knowing glance as Jaime moved his hand hastily away from Brienne's, and flustered expressions fell on both their faces.

The game was soon underway, and to Brienne's surprise it turned out to be quite fun. Tyrion kept both her and Jaime topped up on the wine while he distracted them with impertinent questions and amusing statements, watching with satisfaction as Jaime and Brienne grew even more relaxed and flirtatious around each other. He was confident that it was only a matter of time until they would have to stop making eyes at each other and just get on with what everyone present could tell had been a long time coming.

Tyrion slurped down his wine noisily as the rowdiness only continued to grow around them in the hall. 'Your turn,' he said to Jaime.

Brienne bit her lip excitedly as her eyes flickered from Tyrion to Jaime. She didn't mind admitting that she was thoroughly enjoying this game…even if it was getting her considerably drunk. It just felt so fun to be carefree and joyful with Jaime and Pod, the people she almost considered her family, after such a traumatic shared experience. Tyrion also made quite a nice addition; in only the short time since they'd started playing, she knew she liked Jaime's brother very much.

'Err…' Jaime leaned back and raised his eyebrows at Brienne as he considered her thoughtfully, reciprocating her playful smile. 'You…are an only child.'

Tyrion pouted his lips sadly as he rested his head drunkenly on Jaime's shoulder, gazing at Brienne in mock sympathy.

Brienne stared at him. 'I told you I was,' she said, smiling.

'You didn't,' Jaime said at once.

'I did!' she insisted, and Tyrion leaned off Jaime's shoulder with a chuckle as he watched them.

Brienne was being more expressive and livelier than both Jaime and Pod had ever seen before. And it was wonderful.

'I surmised,' Jaime argued back playfully, raising his eyebrows at her.

Tyrion laughed. 'Drink!' he ordered Brienne.

Jaime beamed at her as she took another gulp of wine with smirking lips.

'Go again,' Tyrion murmured to Jaime.

Brienne put down her goblet and looked at Tyrion incredulously. 'Why does he get to go again?' she protested, as Jaime watched her closely, trying hard to think of a statement that would make her drink more.

'Because it's my game,' Tyrion replied firmly, and Brienne grinned at him, amused.

Jaime then pointed his finger at Brienne playfully. 'You have danced with Renly Baratheon,' he said slowly.

Brienne looked at him, stunned, then turned accusingly to Pod. Had he and Jaime been talking about her these past few days? Pod simply raised his eyebrows and tilted his head helplessly at her.

'Drink,' Tyrion said triumphantly.

Brienne turned back to Jaime with an irritated smile on her face; he winked at her as she brought the goblet up to her lips yet again, making both their cheeks grow rather hot.

Tyrion and Pod noticed, and looked across the table at each other. They smirked, both relieved and amused. The remainder of this night was going to be very interesting indeed.

Chapter Text

There was nothing like Brienne's smile. It was so real and perfect, and yet she had no idea how wonderful it made Jaime feel inside, just to see her looking at him that way with those sweet nervous glances, to see her enjoying herself. Her grumpy scowls and anxious frowns were all gone, as if she had been replaced by someone bubbly and happy and no longer afraid to liberate herself and allow her emotions to be on full display. He hadn't seen this side of Brienne before, and it lifted his spirits so much that it led him to the realisation that he hadn't laughed this much or experienced this sort of joy in years.

As the wine continued to flow, Jaime realised he wasn't the only one entranced by the way in which Brienne had wholly given herself over to joy in embracing Tyrion's ridiculous game. Her precious enthusiasm and playfulness lit up both Tyrion and Pod as well, to the extent that all three men found themselves gazing at her in wonder while they played, glad that they had managed to persuade her to drink without restraint, glad that she could see just how easily her company was not only accepted, but also immensely enjoyed by all those lucky enough to be around her.

'Wrong, wrong, wrong! Drink!' Brienne was saying delightedly, pointing at Tyrion with a wide beam on her face, her eyes alive with joy; she really was quite drunk now.

Both Tyrion and Brienne laughed with each other as Tyrion frustratedly took another gulp of his wine. It was so nice for Jaime to see Brienne joking around with his brother and poking fun at him, as if they were long-lost friends. After all, he needed support and encouragement from Tyrion in this endeavour, and he certainly believed he had it, particularly now he was assured that Tyrion and Brienne got on so remarkably well.

With a groan, Tyrion slammed his goblet down and awaited the next statement.

Brienne considered him for a moment, smiling. 'You were married,' she said, glancing over at Jaime and exchanging a sly smile with him, 'before Sansa.'

Tyrion turned to Jaime, knowing only he could have told her that. She was really getting the hang of this game.

Jaime pointed at him in amusement. 'Drink!' he said, and with a groan Tyrion obliged, though almost spilling his drink as he did so; Jaime strongly suspected that Tyrion was drunker than the rest of them put together.

Smiling so much he could almost feel his cheekbones beginning to ache, Jaime turned to gaze at Brienne while Tyrion drank. His face faltered slightly as he took in her beaming expression. Seeing her so happy like this left him utterly lovestruck…she was breathtaking and radiant and full of joy and laughter. He'd never thought her capable of such a thing. He was completely dazed by the sight of her.

'You're drinking wine, but you prefer ale!' Brienne then said to Tyrion.

'No!' Tyrion replied victoriously, and he and Jaime both laughed as Brienne took another swig of wine.

She put down her goblet and waited excitedly for Tyrion's turn, smiling back and forth between Jaime and Tyrion in anticipation. Jaime gazed at her with pride, a warm smile on his face as he bumped his legs affectionately against her own under the table. He couldn't remember having such a good time before. He'd never imagined this, the four of them in a tight little group having fun and playing games, and Brienne letting her hair down and really enjoying herself for the first time. He was almost smug, knowing that there were others in the hall watching them enviously, not having as half a good time as they were. It was obvious to everyone in the hall that the three men were in awe of Brienne and proud to be in her company, and she was relishing in it.

Tyrion then pinned her with his gaze, and leaned back. 'You're a virgin,' he said quietly.

Brienne's smile instantly disappeared as her eyes flickered to Jaime's while Pod took an awkward sip of his drink beside her. Jaime's face had also fallen as he looked back at Brienne, upset that Tyrion had chosen to ruin the moment with that statement. Yet there was something else hidden in Jaime's gaze – was it curiosity?

'That's a statement about the present,' Jaime said to Tyrion in a low voice.

Brienne realised that he was trying to find a loop in the rules of the game, to save her from humiliation. But Tyrion was too drunk to realise that he had gone too far.

'At no point in the past, up until this very moment, have you slept with a man,' Tyrion insisted, watching Brienne very closely. 'Or a woman.'

Mortified, Brienne's lips parted, struggling to know what to say, and glanced awkwardly at them all, feeling slightly crestfallen. Was that all they saw when they looked at her? A pure yet naïve maiden, ugly and scared and uncertain? Could they not see anything more than that? Could Jaime?

She averted her gaze and looked down at the table, drenched with spilt wine. Brienne had been having such a good time, but suddenly she felt like Tyrion's remark had sobered her up, and made her realise just how tired she was now. She'd had enough of socialising and fun and games for tonight. And she was not going to stand for any mockery.

Her eyes flickered once more towards Jaime, but that only made her more embarrassed. Looking away, she then rose to her feet; all three men watched her with sorrowful expressions.

Jaime's heart sank. Damn you, Tyrion.

Brienne looked down disdainfully at Tyrion. 'I have to piss,' she announced bitterly, her words slurring slightly.

They barely saw Tormund approaching; Jaime was too busy glaring angrily at his brother. Tyrion looked back up at Brienne, ashamed for his rudeness. He hadn't meant for it to have happened like this. The last thing he wanted to do was humiliate such an honourable, heroic woman, one that his brother cared for deeply and was clearly trying but failing to woo. If only he'd simply stuck to his original plan of saying 'you have feelings for my brother', then things might have taken a different turn. Alas, he was too drunk to know any different.

'We did it! We faced those icy fucks!' Tormund said loudly, storming up to Brienne by the table with his horn filled with whatever ghastly drink he'd chosen.

Tyrion glanced at Jaime – who appeared (understandably) rather put out by the new arrival – and looked down, irritated. It was all going wrong. This was not what he'd wanted to happen.

'Looked right into their blue eyes, and here we are,' Tormund went on breathlessly, coming to a halt in front of Brienne and gazing up at her, drunk and completely smitten.

Jaime barely paid Tormund any attention; all he could do was gaze up at Brienne and wonder if she could somehow be attracted to this ridiculous buffoon of a man, if she was flattered by his attention. Brienne simply stared back at Tormund with a blank expression, too intoxicated to think of a polite rebuff.

With a sigh, Tormund then turned to the rest of the party. 'Now, which one of you cowards shit in my pants?' he said to them, and burst out laughing.

The three men said nothing, and merely stared back up at him in exasperation. Jaime rolled his eyes irritably, wishing this man would just go away so that Tyrion would have a chance to make amends for his behaviour towards Brienne.

Brienne then cut over Tormund's irritating guffaw. 'Please pardon me for a moment,' she said, her eyes trailing pointedly over to Jaime; she was aware that he had been watching her every move since Tyrion had decided to ruin the game.

Her eyes still on Jaime, Brienne then pushed past Tormund, who was leering up at her eagerly, and left the table. Jaime exchanged a glance with Tyrion as she walked past them down the aisle, and within seconds he was on his feet, pushing the bench urgently back. Tyrion's lips twitched triumphantly as he watched his brother stand up before Tormund, who had also stepped forward to follow Brienne.

Tormund halted slightly, confused by this slightly-taller man who dared to block his path. Jaime turned to look at him. There wasn't much in this world that intimidated Tormund Giantsbane, but for some reason, the sly, sceptical look on the notorious Kingslayer's face as he looked him up and down made him freeze.

With an air of bravado, Jaime gave Tormund a sceptical frown. Nice try.

Patting Tormund on the shoulder, Jaime then turned and walked confidently after Brienne, making Pod grin. Tormund watched with wide, indignant eyes as Jaime followed the path he was so very sure of now, but was then distracted by the sound of sloshing liquid; Tyrion was pouring his own wine into Tormund's horn, as consolation. Clinking his horn sympathetically with his empty cup, Tyrion then walked away, having done what he'd come here to do. As drunk as he was, Tyrion felt bad for being such a deliberate arse and making Brienne uncomfortable, but it was the only way – this gave Jaime an opportunity to shine. After all, this was the real game. This was what Tyrion had intended the moment he'd made the decision to come over and join them.

Brienne looked back anxiously as she exited the great hall, and was so startled to see Jaime following her that for a moment she slowed her pace, before the nerves got the better of her and she hurried off down the corridor. She hadn't gotten very far by the time he'd almost caught up with her; she could hear his footsteps close behind her just before she began to climb up the stone steps.

Having had enough of playing games, Brienne rounded on him. 'What are you doing, Jaime?'

'I…what?' Jaime said in alarm, coming to a halt.

'Are you following me?' she demanded.

Jaime hesitated, realising too late that he didn't actually have a plan.

'N-no,' he replied innocently; Brienne tilted her head at him challengingly and stared at him with scrutinizing, stern eyes, and he soon sighed in defeat. 'Yes. I wanted to…'

'Yes?' she prompted, her heartrate suddenly increased.

'T-to apologise. On behalf of my brother,' Jaime replied, swallowing nervously. 'Tyrion didn't mean to be impertinent back then in the game, he just sometimes…has a tendency to get quite familiar and…vulgar when he's had a few drinks. I'm sorry.'

Brienne smirked at him, still rather tipsy from all the wine. 'Vulgarity doesn't embarrass me, Jaime.'

'It doesn't?' His voice broke slightly; was she flirting?

There was a slight pause.

'Your brother is forgiven,' Brienne said curtly. 'Besides, I have no real reason to take offence at his…statement.'

She meant it. She had nothing to be embarrassed about; after all, she was a noble lady of high birth. But still, deep down she had been rather stung by the insinuation in Tyrion's remark that she ought to be pitied over her maidenhood.

'Hmmm, yes,' Jaime said thoughtfully, taking a few steps closer to her. 'His statement which, I noticed…you didn't drink to.'

Brienne's lips twitched slightly as his eyes burned into hers, his face very close, wearing an expression of intrigue. She was feeling rather warm and dizzy all of a sudden – was it him, or the alcohol? She couldn't be sure. Jaime's eyes had flickered to her lips but before he could do anything more than take another step forward, they were interrupted by the arrival of Lady Sansa and an entourage of guests, emerging from around the corner of the corridor.

'Ah, Ser Brienne, are you heading up so soon?' Lady Sansa asked, acting oblivious to what she had just walked in on.

'I fear I may have had a little bit too much wine, my lady,' Brienne replied, embarrassed.

'No such thing, not on a night of celebration,' Sansa said encouragingly, as she kept on walking. 'I'd best get back, I need to find my sister.'

Brienne nodded. 'My lady.'

Sansa then turned to Jaime; an uneasy expression flickered momentarily on her face, but then she glanced at Brienne and forced herself to smile at her protector's companion. 'Ser Jaime,' she said politely, and Jaime nodded back.

Strangely, a few of Sansa's guests had held back at the sight of him; to Jaime's astonishment, they were bowing their heads in greeting. They were acknowledging him. One of them even spoke to him; a Northern knight.

'I hope you're enjoying the feast, Ser Jaime?' he asked.

'I've…I've been having a wonderful time,' Jaime replied, glancing over at Brienne; she blushed. 'Thank you, ser.'

When they had all walked away, Jaime turned questioningly to Brienne.

'Err…Brienne, have you by any chance…said something? About me?' he asked her, leaning casually against the stone wall.

Brienne tried to frown at him convincingly. 'What do you mean?'

'Well quite a few of these people who were looking at me like I was a pile of horse shit yesterday are calling me 'Ser Jaime' now. They've all been quite…welcoming towards me at the feast, as well,' Jaime said bewilderedly. 'It's quite odd, don't you think?'

Brienne seemed unperturbed. 'You fought alongside them. And you're a guest at Winterfell,' she said airily.

He tilted his head at her, watching her carefully. 'That's not how they see it.'

There was a small pause. Brienne's chin quivered slightly as she avoided his eye contact.

Jaime sighed. 'Brienne, what did you say?'

'Only the truth,' Brienne replied, knowing there was no point in lying; Jaime closed his eyes with a groan and banged his head against the wall. 'They were calling you 'Kingslayer' and said you didn't belong at the service today, I couldn't just stand by and say nothing while they were dragging your name through the-'

'It wasn't your secret to tell-!' Jaime interrupted sharply.

'Secret?! What secret? He was called the Mad King!' Brienne pointed out, incredulous.

'Brienne, I appreciate you sticking up for me, I do,' Jaime said earnestly. 'But the name 'Kingslayer' has been my burden for most of my life, and I accepted it long ago. I don't need you to try and get people to…like me by spreading my story, I don't care what they think of me, I don't want them to know-'

'Then why did you tell me what happened, that day in the bathhouse at Harrenhal?' Brienne asked, confused.

'Because you're different!' Jaime snapped loudly.

Another tense pause fell between them. They were both breathless, their heads slightly woozy from all the drinking. Brienne had never felt more frustrated.

'Is that it? That's all you're going to say?' she said, infuriated. 'That I'm 'different'?'

Jaime frowned. 'Well what do you want me to say?' he demanded, his heart racing in panic.

'I don't know! The truth?! Explain!' Brienne exclaimed, not caring that their argument could probably be heard from inside the hall. 'I don't understand why you're so angry – you want only me to know the truth that will change the way everyone sees you, but you're happy to keep the rest of the world in the dark? It makes no sense!'

'You have no right to say that when you know nothing about what it was like back then!' Jaime shouted. 'I told you one snippet of one of the worst days of my life, but that was nothing compared to…' His voice broke and he trailed off, before speaking again at a much quieter volume. 'I still have nightmares about the man. The things I let him get away with would horrify you. So I don't want you changing people's opinion of me for the better. I don't want their respect, and I certainly don't deserve it.'

Brienne took a step towards him, the crease in her forehead prominent as she frowned at him in dismay. 'You're wrong,' she said fiercely, her voice trembling.

She then turned and began walking up the steps. Closing his eyes and sighing in regret, Jaime hurried after her and held out for her arm gently; she came to a halt at his touch.

'That was harsh, Brienne, f-forgive me. I've had quite a bit to drink,' Jaime muttered, avoiding her disdainful gaze.

'I've found people act truer to themselves when they're intoxicated, as a matter of fact,' Brienne said coolly, as she slowly removed his hand from her arm. 'But I'm sorry if I…betrayed your trust in any way. It was certainly not my intention.'

'I know that and…' He broke off at the look on her face and sighed. 'Gods, Brienne, you've made me ashamed now.'

'Oh dear. I am sorry.'

Jaime tilted his head, exasperated by her sarcastic tone. 'Let me make it up to you,' he urged. 'Will you be returning to the feast?'

'I don't think so, no,' Brienne replied, her tone weary but firm. 'I'm rather tired.'

'But we haven't finished the game-' Jaime protested, but Brienne had already retreated further up the steps.

'Really. I need some sleep. It's fine, Jaime, don't worry about it,' she said reluctantly, as she walked away. 'I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.'

Jaime sighed in defeat. 'Goodnight,' he murmured, as she disappeared from view.

Left there alone and full of shame and regret, Jaime looked around the corridor helplessly, Brienne's scent still lingering in the cold frosty air.

What was he to do now?

* * *

Jaime exhaled shakily as he stood outside the cracked, damp door. He was nervous. He'd been dreading this moment for days. He held his hand up to knock, before realising he didn't need to; she was imprisoned here. Bolton's guard stared at him with raised eyebrows, wondering why the hell Jaime was hesitating when he was the one who had somehow managed to persuade Lord Bolton to allow him time to say goodbye to his former captor. Feeling extremely uneasy, Jaime then turned to the guard and nodded.

The guard promptly unlocked and opened the door, and allowed Jaime to step through.

The room was not exactly a cell of sorts, but it was a decrepit, dank and miserable chamber, with a broken ceiling and a crumbling hole in the brick wall, acting as a window. It was filled with cluttered bits of old furniture and trunks belonging to the last occupants of the fortress, and there were a few oil lamps and candles dotted here and there.

Brienne, who had been sat staring glumly into the distance as she dwelled on her hopeless predicament, looked around and rose to her feet to greet her visitor. She was still wearing the pink fur-lined dress; once again, Jaime was surprised by how it emphasised her good shape. He could see her grubby boots and scarred ankles underneath the too-short skirt, and her cleavage was unwillingly on full display through the lace in her bodice. He could tell from the way she held herself in the dress that she still felt uncomfortable in it, despite her not looking half as ridiculous as she clearly thought she did.

She blinked rapidly in surprise when she saw that it was Jaime. She'd neither seen nor heard of him in days; when she had asked after him the other day when the guards had brought her a pathetic portion of dried-up food on a tray, they had shut her down with a mere retort that Jaime had been forbidden from seeing her in her new accommodations as part of 'Lord Bolton's orders'. It was somewhat a relief for Brienne to see him now, particularly to see him walking towards her without a hint of frailty or exhaustion. His hair, beard and rags were no different, but there was something stronger in his posture. These past few days of rest and recovery with the help and support of Qyburn had clearly done him a world of good.

Jaime turned pointedly to the guard; he obliged and exited the room at once, shutting the door firmly behind him and leaving the two of them alone. He and Brienne looked at each other for a moment, neither of them sure of what to say.

'I thought you were gone,' Brienne murmured.

Jaime averted his gaze briefly. 'Tomorrow,' he replied, feeling a stab of guilt.

A silence fell between them as Brienne looked into his eyes, full of sorrow and pity for her. She understood then. He'd come to bid her farewell. This was probably going to be the last time they would see each other. The thought saddened Brienne more than she cared to admit.

'Have they told you what they plan to do with me?' Brienne asked; she appeared calm, but Jaime didn't miss the slight tremor in her voice.

Jaime hesitated before answering. 'Lord Bolton's travelling tomorrow as well – he's going to the Twins for Edmure Tully's wedding. You're to remain here.'

'With Locke,' Brienne said in a low voice, full of dread.

Jaime couldn't find the words to say; all he could do was gaze at her with regretful eyes…eyes that had suddenly become rather wet.

They both knew what this meant. She was to be left behind as Locke's plaything, to be tortured and no doubt sexually abused, even though Jaime had fought so hard to stop it so many times. And there was nothing he could do to protect her from harm now. He was utterly powerless, and at the mercy of Roose Bolton. It was a hopeless situation, and all Jaime could hope was that Lord Selwyn Tarth's raven would arrive soon to rescue his daughter in time.

Jaime's lips parted as he struggled to find the words, and he looked down hopelessly, ashamed of how his selfish, arrogant actions had brought her here. He didn't know how to say goodbye to her. He'd never thought it would be this hard. He'd never thought it would be hard at all.

'I owe you a debt,' Jaime said sincerely, taking a step forwards and forcing himself to look back up at her.

Brienne hesitantly looked up from the floor to meet his gaze. They both knew that she wouldn't have tried so hard to keep him safe if it hadn't been for her sworn oath to Catelyn Stark. And yet a part of Jaime liked to think that she had defended him during their time with Locke in ways that she hadn't been obligated to do so. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking. Looking at her now, her expression unusually soft as she gazed at him, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that, whatever the reason, she had roused him from his suicidal depression after losing his hand. She had given him a reason to live. Without her, he would not be stood here right now, on the brink of finally completing his journey back to his family and his home. And yet here he was, about to leave her to the mercy of their savage torturers. Jaime didn't know how she could stand to look at him.

To his surprise, she began walking towards him.

'When Catelyn Stark released you, we both made a promise to her,' Brienne said, coming to a halt as she stood before him. 'Now it's your promise. You gave your word. Keep it and consider the debt paid.'

Her tone was calm, the look in her eyes firm. Jaime realised then that she wasn't angry with him for leaving, that she understood. She knew he needed to get to King's Landing, and she also knew that he wanted to do right by her. All she could do now was forward her mission – no, their mission – and ensure that he carry out his duty and fulfil their oath.

Jaime couldn't help but admire Brienne even more; the resignation in her expression told him that she'd already accepted that she would inevitably die here in this miserable place, but that didn't matter to her – she was more concerned that Jaime fulfilled their vows.

That was when he realised that Brienne was the most honourable person he had ever met.

Jaime nodded slowly at her, feeling almost choked up by her words. 'I will return the Stark girls to their mother,' he promised, and he tilted his head at her with an earnest look in his glistening eyes. 'I swear it.'

Brienne gazed back at him, rather taken aback by the wetness in his eyes, and then nodded, satisfied. She didn't think she was a fool for believing the man stood before her; the words that had come out of his mouth were sincere, and she knew that he was capable of honour and goodness, hence her newfound respect for her former captive. Even though she was being left alone with Locke, she was accepting Jaime's departure with good grace.

Jaime swallowed, stunned by her nod of approval and by the unusual tenderness of her facial expression; no one ever took his promises at face value, and yet him merely saying 'I swear it' had been enough for her to believe him. It made him realise just how much he had taken Brienne for granted all this time; why hadn't he stopped the bickering sooner? Why had he left it too late? Brienne could have been his one true friend in all of Westeros…only now he was to leave, never to see her again.

With a raise of her head, Brienne then gave Jaime the briefest flicker of a half-smile. 'Goodbye, Ser Jaime,' she said softly.

Jaime's eyes lit up. He was stunned. The raw emotion and look of sheer amazement on his face almost made Brienne well up herself as she realised just how much her calling him by his real name meant to him.

She wanted to say so many things to him. She wanted him to know that the name 'Kingslayer' was not who he really was, that he didn't deserve it, that it didn't define him. But of course those words would be meaningless, because it did define him in the eyes of everyone else in Westeros. Only she knew the whole truth; Jaime had told her so when she'd come to check on him after he had fainted in the bath a few days ago. But perhaps he could be comforted somewhat by the fact that he was no longer the Kingslayer in her eyes. She hoped so anyway.

There was no doubt about it – there were definitely tears in Jaime's eyes now. After all, very few people had freely addressed him by his real name apart from when under the obligations of what social rank demanded. But this remarkable woman, this just and fair woman, had come into his life and deemed him respectable and honourable. And now he was about to walk away from her forever.

Jaime's lips parted as he tried to find something, anything, to say. He only managed to nod wordlessly, his tear-filled gaze full of gratitude. Then he swallowed, and, looking like he was making the biggest mistake of his life, he turned and walked away back towards the door.

As the guard opened it for him, Brienne released a shaky breath, unable to maintain her composure. His emotional response had touched her deeply. She hadn't needed a verbal goodbye. The look in his eyes had been enough.

She was broken from her reverie at the sound of the guard grumbling irritably as Jaime then walked back into the room, ignoring his escort's protests. Brienne blinked away her tears as he halted in the doorway and stared helplessly at her.

'Lady Brienne, I…' Jaime began in a wavering voice.

He paused. He wanted to tell her thank you, he wanted to bid her a proper farewell, he wanted to make amends for landing her here and help her escape from this gloomy dungeon.

But all he could say in a broken voice was, 'Forgive me.'

He didn't specify what for, but she didn't ask for clarification. The look in his eyes was answer enough: For everything.

Jaime felt his chin quiver slightly as she gazed wordlessly back at him. He could vividly remember her bitter words from their first day together in the woods…'Your crimes are past forgiveness, Kingslayer.'

Brienne considered him for a moment, dazed. 'I forgive you,' she said, in barely more than a whisper.

That was the first time Jaime gazed at her in complete awe. And it would most certainly not be the last.

His lips trembling with gratitude, Jaime gave her a shaky nod, unafraid for her to see the tear that trickled down his cheek. Neither of them wanted to leave each other. But then, before Jaime could say anything else, the irritated guard marched over and grabbed him by the shoulders. Before either of them knew what had happened, the guard had forced Jaime roughly out of the room and slammed the door shut, leaving Brienne alone. Her mouth moved wordlessly as she stared wide-eyed at the spot where Jaime had been stood merely moments before, gazing at her with both desperation and sorrow. She knew the look on his face would stay imprinted in her mind for whatever short time remained of her life.

Oh, how I wish I could have gone with him. Or that he could have stayed with me.

But there was no point in wishful thinking, Brienne knew that. Jaime Lannister was gone.

Her arms were unsteady as she reached to sit back down, and for the first time in as long as she could remember, Brienne let her face crumble in despair.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

Why hadn't she drunk?

Had she averted her gaze in embarrassment because she had in fact slept with someone recently? Could it be that horrendous Tormund?

The thought made Jaime sick as he paced anxiously about the corridor, gulping down more wine from the pitcher he'd brought with him. It had been an hour since he'd bid an agitated goodnight to Brienne and yet, despite the further drinking, he was no more reassured or confident in his messy thought process. He had intended to go after her – what to say or do, he had no idea – but still hadn't quite found the courage. He'd sincerely hoped that a few more cups of wine would have helped him with this, but the results had disappointed him; instead he was now simply walking unsteadily around the corridors of the castle with the pitcher and his cup like a pathetic, lonely, drunken fool.

When a slightly-sobered-up Tyrion came across Jaime sat lazily on a stone bench around the corner from the great hall entrance, looking despondent with his half-empty pitcher of wine hanging from his hand, he felt torn between laughing and shouting in frustration. He had rather hoped that Jaime's arrogant swagger away from Tormund during the feast earlier had guaranteed the successful outcome of his highly entertaining game of match-making between his brother and the first female knight in Westeros. But apparently not.

'What in seven hells are you doing?' Tyrion demanded exasperatedly.

'I'm drinking,' Jaime mumbled, taking another sip of his wine, and Tyrion wiggled his eyebrows.

'Ahh, needing a bit of liquid courage, I see,' he said with a smirk, as he walked over to sit beside him on the bench.

Tyrion wished his stupid fool of a brother could see that Brienne wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He'd only seen the two of them around each other for a few days, but he'd only needed a few seconds to see what was so blindingly clear to everyone but them.

Jaime sighed heavily, clearly conflicted. 'I don't know what I'm doing.'

'Don't know what you're doing?!' Tyrion said incredulously. 'You're Jaime fucking Lannister! That woman is most likely in her chambers, alone and pining after you, and if you don't make your move soon that milk-sucking Tormund fellow certainly will!'

Jaime looked around at him in shock, taken aback by the sheer volume and tone of frustration in his brother's voice. He hadn't realised just how invested Tyrion was in this.

'Why did you ask her such a personal question in the game?' Jaime asked, his words slurring slightly. 'Why even bring it up-?'

Tyrion rolled his eyes. 'Why do you think, you idiot?'

Jaime's mouth moved wordlessly for a while in shock before he fully comprehended what Tyrion meant. 'Y-you were trying to contrive this?'

'Well yes, obviously, surely you realised that was my real agenda. I just didn't predict you'd be such a coward about it,' Tyrion said waspishly.

There was a short pause as Jaime continued to sit and think about everything he regretted in his life. Then he thought of Brienne tonight at the feast…her infectious laughter, her nervous smile, her fluttering gaze…

'I've never done this before,' Jaime murmured quietly as he stared down at his lap, his tone scared and almost sober.

Tyrion fell silent for a moment. They both knew that he meant that Jaime had only ever been with Cersei. He had never been romantically involved with anyone else, and his and Cersei's relationship had been built entirely out of lust. This, with Brienne, was something deeper. It was built on the foundation of a powerful, emotional connection. After all these years and all the tension, how could Jaime just suddenly risk crossing that line with her?

'Are you having doubts about your…feelings for her?' Tyrion asked in a much softer tone. 'Or her feelings for you?'

Jaime considered him for a moment. 'No,' he replied eventually, and he felt himself smile as he spoke the word and realised it to be completely and utterly true.

'Then go to her! Now!' Tyrion urged, and he smacked his brother on the chest.

Jaime looked alarmed. 'And say what?!'

'Say what's in here,' Tyrion said, thumping his chest again, but this time gesturing his heart.

He shook his head at his older brother exasperatedly. It was almost adorable to see the most handsome man in Westeros terrified at the prospect of trying to seduce a woman.

'You're Jaime Lannister. I'm sure she won't be able to resist whatever nauseating poetry you've got lined up for her.'

Jaime grimaced doubtfully. The right words in these sorts of situations – most of those being with Brienne – never came to Jaime, particularly when faced with the disconcerting way in which her large beautiful blue eyes had often simply stared at him in utter confusion whenever he'd tried saying anything remotely nice, let alone romantic. Her standoffishness and bewilderment had often just left him too flustered to say what he was really feeling 'in here', as Tyrion had put it.

What could he say tonight to make things any different? How could he possibly find the courage to cross that bridge?

As if he could hear his thoughts, Tyrion let out a heavy sigh. 'You fought and survived in a battle against an army of dead men. If you can do that, you can certainly do this,' he said slyly, and then his tone turned more earnest as he rose to his feet. 'Don't let fear of change or uncertainty get in the way of finding happiness with the person who is right for you.'

Jaime looked up from his lap. Tyrion was giving him an encouraging smile; a look Jaime was not familiar with.

'Be brave. Or I'll personally bash you around the head with a battle axe,' Tyrion said, clapping Jaime sympathetically on the back, and with that he walked off back to the great hall to re-join the feast.

Left once more on his own, Jaime breathed deeply as he stared down at his golden hand, the chorus of drunken singing and shouting coming from the great hall nothing but a distant buzz in his ears as he tried to reflect on Tyrion's words.

His one regret had been fighting in that battle the other night without telling Brienne how he felt about her. He needed her to know. He needed her to know who and what he wanted. And he needed her to know now.

Jaime leapt to his feet. Grabbing the pitcher of wine and his cup, he marched back into the great hall and headed straight for the table lined with more alcohol. He undid the knots in his jacket so that he could relax a little before grabbing a second cup. And then, ignoring the guests' jeers and shouts for him to join in, he left the hall.

A pulsing sensation running through his entire body, he hurried up the stone steps. The noise of the feast had soon faded once he'd reached the upper levels. His hand clenched tightly around the wine pitcher and two goblets, Jaime then strode along down the corridor. The butterflies had already formed in his stomach by the time he approached the entrance to Brienne's bedchambers, and he froze.

It had taken him every bit of effort he had in him to bring himself here, right to her door, but his nerves were once more kicking in. He felt just like he had done the day before he'd left Harrenhal, when he'd hesitated before entering her room to bid her farewell…only this time it wasn't dread that filled him as he stood outside Brienne's door; it was a pounding in his chest that he recognised only as excitement.

'Don't let fear of change or uncertainty get in the way of finding happiness with the person who is right for you.'

Jaime took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Chapter Text

The fire was roaring quietly in the hearth as Brienne fetched another log to ensure that her bedchambers would remain warm throughout the rest of the night. The effects of the wine seemed to have cleared through her system somewhat in the past hour or so; she certainly felt less light-headed anyway, which was a good thing. She still felt rather warm and fuzzy inside, although she wasn't sure if that was because of the fire or the lingering alcohol or because of the way her mind get drifting back to the vivid image of Jaime's dazed smile as their eyes had locked constantly throughout the night over their cups of wine.

She untucked her tunic from her trousers and loosened the knots ever so slightly so that she could relax a bit as she prepared to get ready for bed. It was far past the time she would normally have been asleep, and yet a part of her regretted leaving the feast when she did. She'd been having so much fun…at least until Tyrion's comment…and then Tormund's arrival…and then Jaime's argumentative mood out in the corridor. She sighed heavily, unable to suppress the disappointment.

Brienne stepped forward to put more wood on the fire when, over the sound of the flickering flames and howling wind from outside rattling against her window, she heard a tentative yet rhythmic thumping on her door. She paused and looked towards the door with a frown; who would need to see her at this hour? Perhaps it was Pod; possibly he'd drunk too much and needed help getting to his chambers. Or maybe it was Lady Sansa, needing help with a drunken riot downstairs, or possibly even something more severe.

Curious, Brienne crossed the room and opened the door. She felt her breath catch in her throat, and her expression faltered slightly in shock.

It was Jaime.

She blinked rapidly at the sight of him stood there in her doorway leant against the stone wall, his good hand gripping a pitcher of wine while his gold hand balanced two empty goblets against his chest. An awkward few seconds passed while the two of them simply stared at each other, speechless. Jaime looked rather shocked, as if he hadn't been expecting her to open the door.

Brienne raised her eyebrows at him questioningly, her heart racing. There could only be one reason why Jaime had climbed up all those steps to visit her alone in her bedchambers at this time of night – but no, Brienne couldn't think such improper thoughts. She must be mistaken.

Jaime merely continued to stare at her open-mouthed in sheer panic. Oh Gods, what do I do now?!

Eventually, he recovered his composure. 'You didn't drink,' was his greeting, and he averted his gaze as he brushed past her.

Brienne stepped aside to let him enter and watched him, perplexed, as he walked into the room. She wondered if he hadn't waited for her to invite him in because he knew she would have refused. Or would she have refused? Brienne wasn't sure. All she knew was that neither of them could ignore how it looked if an outsider in the corridor had witnessed him stepping through into her bedchambers. But she knew what she was accepting, and she realised she didn't remotely care. All she could focus on was her rapid heartrate and sense of building anticipation as she watched him walk unsteadily towards her table.

'I didn't drink?' Brienne said, shutting the door as he put down the pitcher of wine.

'In the game,' Jaime clarified, setting out the two empty goblets.

This befuddled her even more. They both knew he'd stopped playing games the moment he'd walked through the door.

'I drank!' Brienne said reproachfully, flustered.

'In the game!' Jaime insisted; she could tell that he'd been drinking considerably since they had bid goodnight earlier. 'This is Dornish!'

He was holding out the wine pitcher to her enthusiastically, only was surprised to see that Brienne had now walked over to stand on his other side.

Confusion furrowed her brow as she watched him pour some wine into a cup for her, her eyes darting back and forth between his face and the wine. He had undone his leather jacket, and abandoned all formalities. She had no idea what was going through his mind.

'This is not the game,' Brienne said, flummoxed, and she stared at him. 'This is only drinking.'

Jaime turned to face her, offering the cup of wine. 'Suit yourself,' he said smoothly.

Brienne took the cup from him, still rather stunned by his incomprehensible presence here in her room. Why did he want to drink, only with her? Was he this tipsy because he'd had to drink more in order to give him the courage to come here to her chambers? Or was she a fool to hope for that?

She realised then from the expectant look on his face as he watched her that he was actually being serious about the game. He was waiting for her to confirm whether or not Tyrion's statement about her maidenhood earlier had been correct. Was he really that bothered? Brienne hesitated before slowly, deliberately raising her cup to her lips and drinking.

Jaime felt very hot and bothered all of a sudden as he watched her sip. Her stunning blue eyes reflected the firelight, and the glow of the flames made her blonde hair shine. When she slowly lowered the goblet from her mouth, he noticed a droplet of red wine glistening on her lips, but the intense, confused gaze in her eyes soon regained his attention as a pointed pause fell between them.

His hand was shaking, his heart thundering. What a mess he was. Jaime tried to form a smile on his lips, but couldn't – all he could do was wonder about what madness had brought him here to her chambers. Had he really thought Brienne would let him get away with this? He couldn't back out now. He could tell that, confused as she was, even though she didn't quite realise yet what was happening or what his intentions were…deep down, she had her suspicions. And he had come up with no good – or innocent – excuse for his presence in her bedchambers at this hour.

Brienne's eyes drifted down to the pitcher of wine nervously as she realised that Jaime wasn't going to break the silence. She felt awkward, unsure of what to do. How could they keep this up without addressing why he was here? Jaime averted his gaze too, flustered, hoping that she was braver than he was now it had come down to this long-awaited moment. He'd never had to try and work for this before. He didn't know how to actively pursue her. The thought of jumping in a bear pit to rescue her again seemed much less of a challenge now.

He sighed as he tried to mentally pluck up the courage to make a move – a decent move, this time, he sincerely hoped – but this was harder said than done when he had absolutely no idea what to do. He was incredibly nervous. More nervous than even Brienne was.

'Well you keep it warm enough in here,' Jaime said, his tone almost exasperated as he brushed past Brienne again and walked towards her bed, trying to shrug out of the sleeves of his jacket.

Swallowing nervously while he began to peel off his top layer of clothing, Brienne slowly put down her cup of wine on the table and turned to face him. She watched, stunned by the casual intimacy of the gesture, as he aggressively tried to take off his jacket.

What is happening?

Her twitching hands came to rest anxiously on her breeches as she watched him, perplexed. 'It's the first thing I learnt when I came to the North – keep the fire going,' she said, trying to keep her voice steady as she rambled. 'Every time you leave the room, put more wood on.'

She couldn't help but frown bewilderedly at him as he finally managed to remove his jacket. Why was he even here? What was he doing?

Calm down. He's just taken his jacket off, it doesn't necessarily mean anything.

Jaime turned to face her, wishing that she hadn't had to watch him struggle with his jacket like that in his drunken state. He was mortified by his behaviour enough already without her looking at him like that.

'That's very diligent,' he said mockingly, as he discarded his jacket victoriously on the floor beside her bed. 'Very responsible.'

There was an amused glint in his eyes. He didn't want to make small talk about the fire or the temperature. There were better things to do now that they were finally alone, after all.

Although Brienne didn't often enjoy being teased, this time she didn't mind; it put her nerves somewhat at ease.

'Piss off,' she retorted, relieved that they had resumed their normal mockery, but she regretted the words as soon as she'd spoken them; she didn't want him to leave. At least, not without an explanation for why he had come.

'You know the first thing I learned in the North?' Jaime asked, and he closed the distance between them in just a few steps; she could feel the warmth of his wine-scented breath. 'I hate the fucking North.'

Brienne reciprocated his slight smile as his eyes bored into hers. 'It grows on you,' she replied, her tone almost flirtatious.

She felt her cheeks redden slightly as Jaime then shamelessly looked her up and down, undressing her with his eyes, which lingered on her lips and her exposed collarbone as he jutted his chin out. He looked like he wanted to devour her. She suddenly felt very self-conscious of the laces on her tunic, wishing she hadn't loosened them earlier. It had never once crossed Brienne's mind that she would ever be considered physically desirable by a man, but the way Jaime was drinking in the sight of her now was making her question everything she thought she knew about herself.

'I don't want things growing on me,' Jaime said, his voice a low, seductive growl as he moved past her back towards the wine.

He meant it; never in his life had he liked to form attachments. He didn't want to risk hurting anyone. But it was too late for that with Brienne. He was in too deep. She had captured his heart, and there was nothing he could do to change it.

'How about…Tormund Giantsbane?' Jaime asked, the wine spilling onto the table slightly as he poured himself another cup, and he looked up at her teasingly. 'Has he grown on you?'

Brienne stared at him, unimpressed, and tilted her head. Really? You're going to talk about Tormund here, now?

Jaime raised his eyebrows at her. 'He was very sad when you left,' he noted, taking a large swig of wine from his cup.

It dawned on Brienne in that moment that Jaime was talking to her, not as a fellow knight or his old friend whom he liked to irritate, but as a woman. She was incredulous. Did Jaime truly feel threatened by Tormund Giantsbane, that ridiculous buffoon of a man whom she had never once expressed any remote interest or affection towards? It was laughable. And yet he was expecting an answer, anything to reassure him, and so before she'd had time to consider the ramifications, Brienne decided to address their awkwardly ambivalent situation going on here.

'You sound quite jealous,' she said in barely more than a whisper, and her voice broke on the last word, betraying her nerves as she gazed at him, watching carefully for his reaction.

His heart skipping a beat, Jaime lowered his cup and nodded. He looked almost confused by her statement; even though he had known this to be true since the moment he'd met Tormund the other night, hearing it said aloud, by Brienne of all people, was rather bewildering. He had never been jealous before. And he'd certainly never displayed any such an emotion so obviously for other people to see before.

Brienne expected a snide remark or some horrified rebuff, but instead Jaime tilted his head at her thoughtfully, a slight frown on his face.

'I do, don't I?' he said, bemused.

Brienne's lips parted as she gazed at him, blinking slightly and completely lost for words. She felt a tingle rush through her.

Oh gods, is this really happening? Does he mean what I think he means?

The air was thick with heat and tension as they stared at each other, full of longing and expectation yet also full of uncertainty. They were both slightly stunned by what Jaime had practically just admitted aloud. Brienne couldn't help wondering if he was feeling uncomfortable or embarrassed, if he wanted to leave but didn't know how to.

Jaime averted his gaze anxiously as he realised that Brienne was only going to keep staring at him with such a confused expression until he made his feelings extremely clear. She was on to him, at least, that was a start. Simply put, they both knew deep down that he wanted her, and he strongly suspected – or rather, desperately hoped – that she wanted him as well. They were only separated by a few inches and minimal layers of clothing…and by fear of the unknown. All they had to do was embrace this opportunity they had, with no armour and swords and battles and enemies and dead men and possessive sisters acting as an obstacle in their path towards each other, and get over their trepidation so that they could finally act on something that had been blossoming between them for so much longer than either of them had realised.

But how?

Jaime wasn't a virgin, and he was certainly not unlucky in the looks department, so he couldn't understand why he was finding this so hard. Although, looking back on his experience – not that his sexual past was any healthy template to go on – he had to acknowledge that he'd never had to actually try before. Being fortunate enough to look like him, even with just one hand, meant that making an effort in the art of seduction or wooing did not come naturally to Jaime.

What do I do next? he asked himself desperately.

He just didn't have a clue; after all, his awkward drunken attempts at flirtation were not going as successfully as he'd hoped. If he was going to say anything to her, to let her know how his heart burned for her and how much he wanted her, now was his chance. He remembered the way Tyrion had pointed at his heart earlier…'Say what's in here.' Jaime felt momentarily inspired as he glanced briefly towards the fire roaring away cosily in the hearth.

But then, as he turned back to face Brienne, all that managed to come out of his mouth was, 'It's bloody hot in here!'

A hint of nervous laughter escaped his mouth as he met Brienne's perplexed gaze briefly before reaching up to yank at the collar of his shirt, and he began trying to undo the knots.

The best way to woo a woman? Take your shirt off! Yes, Jaime, what a wonderful idea. Well done, he thought bitterly to himself.

Brienne watched him for a few moments with a sceptical expression, beyond confused by what she was witnessing as he tugged helplessly at his collar with his one good hand. She tried to remain calm as she watched him struggle, telling herself it was a joke, telling herself that he had undressed in front of her before at the bathhouse in Harrenhal without any inappropriate motive in doing so. It didn't mean anything. He was just being a drunken idiot who was hot and bothered by the blazing fire. That was all. Nothing else to it.

This must be a joke. It has to be.

Mortified, Jaime grunted slightly as he kept going; his attempts at trying to untie the knot at the top of his tunic were not going well at all. He glanced up at her awkwardly from under his lashes, and realised then that he was the worst flirt in the history of Westeros. This was a disaster. It didn't help that Brienne was staring at him as if he were a madman. Resigned to the fact that fiddling at the knot with his left hand wasn't getting him anywhere, he scoffed and then, left with no other option, began yanking at the laces with his teeth.

The silence continued as Brienne's eyes darted from his awkward face, focussed on the task at hand, to the laces on his tunic, still refusing to budge. Her pupils dilated somewhat as the bizarreness of the situation overwhelmed her into feeling almost like laughing.

Is he really trying to…bite his shirt off?

While Brienne continued to puzzle over his actions, Jaime struggled on, wishing that he could just disappear through the floor and vanish forever. He didn't know what he was doing or why he had started doing this, but it was too late to turn back now. At least there was no one else present to watch the most embarrassing failure of Jaime's entire life.

As Brienne watched him, it then finally began to slowly dawn on her what he was doing…and why he was really here.

He's trying to undress. Alone. With me. In my bedchambers.

Her heart racing in terror, Brienne glanced to the side, unsure of what to do. Was he really going to just stand there and say nothing while taking half an hour to undress? She wasn't sure she had the patience for that. She glanced back at him and frowned at the absurdity of just how stupid he was being with that bloody tunic. Strangely, she then felt what seemed to be a surge of confidence as she realised that this really was what it looked like while Jaime still persistently tried to pull at the strings of his shirt with his teeth, like a complete idiot. She couldn't watch him a moment longer.

'Oh, move aside,' Brienne said abruptly, and she slapped his hand away with an air of irritation.

Jaime looked at her in alarm, his eyes wide; her impatient tone made his heart race even faster as she reached forwards and pulled him towards her by the strings on his tunic, taking control of the situation. Determined to try and act naturally, Brienne began to unlace his shirt in an almost aggressive manner, while trying to ignore the trembling, feverish sense of anticipation growing within her. Her hands were quick and forceful, which Jaime liked, but he noticed that her fingers were shaking ever so slightly from nerves, and a tender expression fell on his face as he gazed at her.

Inexplicably, Brienne found herself remembering his taunting words from many years ago as he'd teased her about the subject they were toying with this very moment. 'Maybe you wished one of them could…overpower you, fling you down, tear off your clothes. But none of them were strong enough…I'm strong enough.' She felt rather hot herself all of a sudden.

Brienne could feel Jaime's eyes on her, but she didn't dare look up at him and pretended to be focussed solely on working the knots out of his laces. Her fingers brushed against the top of his warm chest, sending a spark rushing through both of them, and she couldn't help wondering what was going to happen once she'd undone all the laces, and his bare chest was on full display? What would he say then?

As if in answer to her train of thought, Jaime took a step closer to her; their proximity no longer unnerved him, not when he knew how Brienne felt judging purely from the way her urgent fingers trembled against his skin as she undid his laces.

His hand was slow, gentle and sure when he lifted it up and reached for her own tunic. The moment his hand made contact with her collar, Brienne's fingers stopped and her breath halted as she immediately grabbed his hand.

'What are you doing?' she asked quietly, stunned, as she looked up at him.

Their eyes met and they both froze for a second.

'I'm taking your shirt off,' Jaime replied in an almost seductive murmur.

His voice was quiet and slightly breathless as he slowly, tantalisingly began to pull at the strings of her tunic, leaving Brienne dazed as the blood pounded in her ears and the insides of her stomach fluttered. His words were clear – he wanted her. Her. Jaime hesitated when he felt Brienne's disbelieving eyes on his, and he looked up to meet her gaze.

That was the moment when everything changed. As Brienne looked at him, her fingers clutched around his, she realised that she could no longer make any excuses to herself or deny what many had teased them both about. There was no mistaking exactly what Jaime meant and what he wanted now. He had made the step (albeit rather awkwardly) to make that move, to ensure that there was no more misinterpretation between them, to change the dynamic between them forever. And now it was up to her to decide what she wanted to do with that revelation.

Brienne's unsure gaze was irresistible as their fingers intertwined and she slowly moved his hand down from her neck and away from her tunic.

A slightly panicked look fell on Jaime's face. Seven hells, have I just ruined everything?

He'd been so sure that she'd wanted the same thing…after all, the way she had blushed and smiled and gazed at him during the feast had given him this confidence to be here right now, even if he had made a complete fool of himself since entering the room. But then he knew how afraid she must be by what was happening; he wanted to be respectful, and if she wanted this to stop before it went any further then he would completely understand. Perhaps it was wise, and they could talk about this under more sober circumstances.

But then the disappointment disappeared from Jaime's gaze as Brienne's fingers slowly trailed down the top of his chest through the open gap in his tunic, lingering slightly before she let go, and making his heart race. He stared wordlessly at her as Brienne made the decision that would change her life forever. She wasn't stupid; she knew that this man was conflicted, that his life had been turned upside down in the past month since he had left behind all that been familiar to him. But they had both cheated death. They had both somehow managed to survive the battle against the dead. And they both wanted this moment. So who was she to deny it?

It was time to finally make that choice to have something that she had wanted for such a very long time – to be with the man she loved.

Ever so slowly, Brienne then reached to her own collar and began unlacing her tunic. She was still unsure of whether she was doing this right – after all, physical intimacy was a completely new and strange experience for her – but she was resolved to get what she wanted…what they both wanted. Jaime's mouth fell open slightly, his intense gaze of surprise leading her to look down nervously so that she could focus on the knots of her tunic while she heard his breath begin to quicken.

As he gazed tenderly at her, Jaime suddenly felt as if the shock of seeing Brienne take this step for them both had sobered him up completely. He no longer felt light-headed or unsteady on his feet. He felt only pure adoration as he watched Brienne pull her laces free, unable to believe that this was truly happening. His eyes flickered to her hands as they worked on undoing her tunic, but he wasn't able to look away from her face for long; he was completely in awe of this woman…this incredible woman who somehow felt the same way and wanted him as he wanted her. He had never felt more in love as he did in this moment.

Brienne could feel the tingling warmth flood through her as she eventually reached the bottom of her tunic. She left it hanging open and glanced hesitantly back up at him. She knew that any other man would have diverted his eyes straight to her bare cleavage visible in the sliver of skin exposed, but Jaime was only looking into her eyes, his gaze filled with both awe and what she assumed was desire.

They were silent as they stared at each other. Only the crackling of the fire in front of them and the whistling wind outside could be heard. They seemed to have somehow moved closer to each other without even realising; there were mere inches between them now.

It was the lingering remnants of the wine in her system – not to mention his loving gaze – that gave Brienne the courage as she looked at Jaime, wordlessly telling him to stand still while she reached for the hem of his tunic and untucked it from his trousers. Jaime frowned slightly, bemused; where had this sudden confidence come from? Not that he was complaining. He lifted his arms up to help her; she silently pulled the tunic up and over his head, revealing his bare lean torso; her eyes lingered on the muscles and scars on his chest. Once they'd managed to pull the sleeve over his golden hand, Brienne then dropped his shirt on the floor. Jaime looked from his discarded tunic and back breathlessly to Brienne, his eyes widening in amazement.

I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe she's real. I can't believe she wants this, with me.

His eyes were so open and wide, and they caught her off guard slightly; they were filled with hunger, and disbelief, but also awe. He was looking at her like she was the most breathtaking woman he had ever seen. How could anyone look at her like that? It sent waves of heat rushing to her very core.

Brienne subconsciously reciprocated his open-mouthed, awestruck expression as she brought her hands to the open collar of her own tunic and slid it gently from her shoulders. She kept her eyes locked on his as she let it fall to the floor, and breathed deeply, her heart racing.

'Is that a woman?' Jaime vividly remembered asking, the very first time he'd laid eyes on her.

What a blind fool he had been.

They gazed at each other in silence for a moment, both of them stunned. This wasn't the first time they had seen each other's naked, scarred chests, but their bodies had never been so close before; they could feel the simmering heat emanating off each other. They longed for one another. They had dreamed for so long of what it would feel like to be in each other's arms. Now they were about to find out.

Jaime barely refrained from gulping as he focussed on her eyes and only her eyes, stunning and blue and twinkling as they reflected the firelight. He blinked rapidly.

'I've never slept with a knight before,' he said softly, gazing up at her in a way that made Brienne wonder for a moment if she really could be beautiful.

He said it to ease Brienne's nerves, she knew that; he was trying to reassure her, and boost her confidence as well by reminding her of her knighthood. After all, he wanted her to know that he hadn't just knighted Brienne because he'd thought they were going to die anyway – he'd meant what he did, because he truly believed in her. And to make love to Brienne of Tarth, the first female knight of the Seven Kingdoms, was monumental for him. He needed her to know that; after all, he never engaged in sexual relations with anyone just on a one-time basis or out of casual lust. This was a huge deal. An occasion, even, that meant more to him than Brienne could ever possibly know.

Brienne hesitated. 'I've never slept with anyone before,' she said, a slight tremor in her voice which confirmed to Jaime that she was just as scared as he was.

She had only ever known how to fight men, not to pleasure them. Although she was letting her feelings and the heat of the moment guide her into committing to what she so dearly wanted, Brienne had never done anything like this in her entire life; she had no experience or knowledge or expectations, and she didn't know what she was doing. But Jaime had changed her, and she knew from the way Jaime was looking at her that her insecurities and ignorance didn't matter. If anything, it only made Jaime more certain that this was right. She had never been kissed or loved by anyone before, and he wanted to give her these things and more. He knew that she was trusting him with her heart, something she couldn't control and something that terrified her, and this may not be the way he had planned it, but he wanted it to be perfect for her.

'Then you have to drink,' Jaime said calmly with a nod, his face unbelievably close to hers as he gave her a playful frown. 'Those are the rules.'

Brienne stared at him. He's still on about that stupid game?!

'I told you-'

But he couldn't contain himself any longer. Before she could catch her breath, Jaime had thrown himself up on his tiptoes and crushed his lips against hers.

Brienne gasped, so taken aback that her knees almost gave way and she stumbled backwards, but Jaime steadied her with his hand clutching the back of her neck, his bare chest pressed against hers as he kissed her like he had been waiting to kiss her for years, as if he had been holding his breath to do it and now their lips had finally touched, he could at last lose control. He kept his eyes open at first, wanting to make sure that she was all right, and a feverish jolt of excitement flooded through Brienne as his hungry, desperate kisses made her forget completely what she had been saying.

Once she'd got over the shock, Brienne began to kiss him back ardently, giving in to the years of pent up longing and lust; she had to stoop down a little as their lips moved passionately as one. The building tension that has been growing between them vanished as they lost themselves completely in each other, and Jaime's eyes closed as he felt the relief and joy of her reciprocation wash over him.

Losing all her inhibitions and letting the alcohol fuel her, Brienne straightened up as her lips moved just as urgently against his; the force of her kiss nearly knocked Jaime over, and he realised just how exciting this was for her – it was frantic, desperate, exhilarating, new, clumsy, and even a little awkward. And it was wonderful. She was still running on adrenaline from their unexpected victory of the battle, from the wine and laughter of the feast, from Jaime's presence here in her bedchambers and the way he held her now, his lips soft and sure and fervent against hers as he tangled his fingers in her hair.

Jaime frowned slightly in concentration as he tried to store every minuscule detail of this perfect moment in his memory, of her hands running up his chest and through his hair, of her intense kisses and the trepidatious tremble in her body as she let herself feel and anticipate what was going to come next. They were drunk, not just on wine, but on joy and victory and life and love, and they kept on kissing, almost like they were sparring, until they were both gasping for breath. They broke apart briefly for air, and their tender eyes met for a moment before bringing their smiling lips back to each other's, and they melted into each other, learning the way their bodies and mouths worked together, just like fighting. Brienne could get used to this…the feel of his nose and forehead pressed against hers, his beard scratching against her skin, his hand caressing her cheek, her hands around his neck.

Eventually they broke apart, and both Jaime and Brienne laughed briefly in relief, leaning their foreheads against each other's as they took a moment to let their breathing calm down. Jaime was smiling tenderly at her, his gaze loving and affectionate as he tucked a lose strand of her hair behind her ear, but then a wary expression fell on his face as he read the burning look in her eyes.

'We shouldn't,' he murmured.

Brienne tilted her head at him sceptically, her eyebrows raised in mock disappointment. There wasn't a chance that she was going to let him back out of this now. Jaime couldn't help but smile at the look on her face.

'Do you not want to?' Brienne asked breathlessly, her fingers brushing lightly against his collarbone as she kept her arms rested on his shoulders.

Jaime's lips parted slightly as he looked at her, unable to find the words. Her eyes caught the firelight. They did something to him.

'Brienne, I…' His voice broke slightly, and he cleared his throat to try again. 'I've never wanted anything more in my entire life.'

His voice was low, gentle and sincere when he spoke the words, and it made Brienne's heart skip a beat as she realised that he was being serious. She had always thought that she was undesirable, and for once, here was this man who saw all of her and wanted her the way she wanted him. She was desirable. She was worthy of love.

'Well then,' Brienne whispered, and she reached down for his right arm.

She slowly undid the straps that fastened the golden hand uncomfortably to his wrist, and removed it. Jaime hesitated slightly, uneasy, as she let the hand fall to the floor with a loud clunk. He swallowed nervously as he remembered just how repelled Cersei had been by his stump, but then of course this wasn't Cersei. This extraordinary woman stood before him now wasn't anything remotely like Cersei. He watched as Brienne slowly drew up his right arm towards her face, her eyes lingering over the permanent mark of the way Jaime had defended her honour all those years ago, before gently pressing her lips to the stump. When she leaned away, she saw that Jaime's eyes had welled up slightly.

'Are you sure?' he said softly.

Brienne smiled fondly at him. 'I am.'

Their second kiss was much slower – more tender, more loving. Her fingers stroked through Jaime's hair as he moved his hand up from her bare waist to caress her cheek and neck, as if he were cherishing the feeling of holding her like this, as if they were both melting into each other's arms. Brienne slowly began to loosen the knots of both their breeches, and, fumbling slightly, they both slowly shed their remaining clothing as Jaime's lips found her neck. The full nudity didn't unnerve Brienne as much as she had expected, but then again they had bared their souls to each other in the past, on those traumatic excursions in the Riverlands and at Harrenhal, so naked bodies no longer seemed much of a big deal where Jaime and Brienne were concerned.

Lacing his fingers with her, Jaime slowly led her backwards over to the bed, guiding her one step at a time; they stumbled slightly and laughed against each other's lips until they sat down beside each other on the fur covers, stroking each other's skin and scars.

Jaime's nose brushed against hers as he tilted his head, breaking away briefly to gaze into Brienne's eyes, and he smiled as she brought his lips hungrily back to hers in another tender kiss. His hand ran through her hair and she cupped his cheeks; they ended up bumping foreheads and both laughed softly against each other's lips. When they eventually broke apart, there was a small, dazed smile of disbelief on Jaime's face; he looked as if he had wanted this forever. Brienne rested both her hands against his chest as he planted multiple kisses on her cheeks, eyelids, nose and forehead, making Brienne chuckle, before finally resting his lips once more against hers.

'Are you nervous?' he asked softly, rubbing his nose against hers.

'A little,' Brienne admitted.

In her time spent around soldiers and camps and taverns, Brienne had seen what men and women's bodies could do together. But she had only witnessed it as an outsider, ignorant to what it really meant, accepting that it would never be something she herself would experience. But now here she was, with Jaime pulling her close to him and placing her palm right over his chest, where she could feel his heart thumping rapidly. He smiled tenderly at her.

'If it's any comfort, I am as well. This is new for me too,' Jaime murmured. 'And I want this to be…perfect for you.'

Brienne felt like her eyes might well up with tears, but she was glad they didn't as she reached out to stroke his cheek. 'It already is.'

Overcome with emotion at the sincerity of her words, Jaime smiled and leaned in to kiss her, and he slowly lay her down onto her back on the fur covers of the bed. For a moment Brienne felt shy and graceless; after all, she was far too big and awkward for this, but as Jaime lay above her, murmuring reassurances while he stroked and kissed every part of her until they fit themselves together as one, she felt all her uncertainty disappear.

Brienne had assumed, rather nervously, that Jaime would have been as aggressive at this as he was as a warrior, but instead he was a gentle lover, tender and careful but also firm…and filled with passion. He took his time to explore and cherish every part of her, while frequently asking her if she was sure and if she was comfortable. Brienne could only moan her satisfaction in response, her firm hands and eager lips urging him to continue.

She wasn't as timid as Jaime had anticipated. Although slightly clumsy and unpractised, she was very certain about what she wanted, and eager to explore him in turn as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him even closer. It was as if she had been wanting this, with him, for years. Inexperience certainly didn't render her shy, and although the noises emitting from her mouth didn't match the volume of her groans out on the battlefield, she certainly didn't keep quiet.

The years of tension unravelled gloriously between him, and Brienne was glad when Jaime held her tight and kissed her fiercely; she needed further verification that this was real, that he was with her, that he wanted her, tonight. Even in her wildest dreams she had never once believed such a thing could ever happen…and yet here they were, their bodies tangled together in an intimate embrace like neither of them had ever known

They were tender and loving with each other, saying with their bodies what they had never quite been able to put into words. It felt like every stolen moment between them had led to this, to this moment that seemed to go beyond the physical realm, and yet at the same time it felt as if they had been doing this for as long as they had known each other. Their souls spoke to each other as they took a great shuddering breath and drowned in each other's eyes, and in that moment Jaime realised that it had never been like this before for him. This was beyond bliss. It wasn't just a bodily pleasure; it was a connection, an eternal bond taking place between him and the woman he loved. Neither of them could remember ever feeling as true to themselves as they did while they held and kissed and cherished every inch of each other, and so the two unlikely lovers became one in a night both Jaime and Brienne knew they would never ever forget.

* * *

According to the all-high-and-mighty Lady Stark, the strange lumbering beast stood before him in the dark pen outside was a 'truer knight' than he would ever be. It had taken every bit of effort in Jaime not to burst out laughing at such a statement. A woman – if you could call that a woman – being referred to as a knight? It was ludicrous.

But what was even more ludicrous was the proposition now coming out of Lady Stark's mouth as she glared down disdainfully at her prisoner. He couldn't believe what she meant to do. He couldn't believe how stupid she was being. And he couldn't believe the unfortunate sight of her female armour-clad bodyguard looming behind her.

'Forgive me, Lady Stark,' Jaime said slyly, after a slight hesitation, 'but I'm a little confused – am I being released?'

'Don't mistake your lack of cell for your freedom,' Lady Catelyn said warningly. 'You will be in Lady Brienne's charge for the duration of your journey to King's Landing, as her captive.'

At this, Jaime couldn't help but chuckle. 'I'm sorry, you expect this…thing…to keep me hostage?' he said sceptically, and Brienne held her head up defensively, her nostrils flaring as she scowled down at the grotty, hateful prisoner. 'Really, Lady Stark, I never took you for a fool.'

'Your gravest mistake will be underestimating her abilities,' Lady Catelyn said fiercely.

'And your gravest mistake will be underestimating mine.'

He said the words smoothly, almost politely, and yet there was no hiding the threat in them. He stared up at Lady Catelyn, and then his eyes flickered to the miserable oaf of a woman stood beside her. Even with it being this dark, he could see just what a joke she was.

Jaime turned back to Lady Catelyn. 'So you're freeing me from my cell, to be sneaked away with your, err, charming companion here in the dead of night, without noble King Robb here to give his permission,' he said, and he raised his eyebrows at her. 'That would be treason, would it not? Why betray your own son like that?'

There was a pause.

'I want my daughters back,' Lady Catelyn replied eventually, her voice tremoring with fury.

'And you're hoping my family will exchange them for me, I see.'

'No, I know they will,' Lady Catelyn corrected him, 'because I'm not releasing you from this cell until you promise this will happen. You will swear a solemn vow.'

'And you would believe the word of a man whom you just reprimanded for breaking his oaths?' Jaime said, incredulous. 'You must be desperate.'

'All mothers are desperate where war and their children are concerned,' Lady Catelyn said, 'particularly when they are being kept hostage by the family who cut off their father's head.'

Jaime grimaced. 'Yes, that was…unfortunate.'

Brienne was met with an urge to beat the man firmly into the ground for insulting Lady Catelyn so deeply, but she restrained herself. She hadn't even spoken directly to him herself, and yet she already despised him. He had killed an innocent man in this pen merely last night, all just so that he could return to his brutal home in the capital; Brienne felt somewhat uneasy about the prospect of rewarding his behaviour by escorting him there. If Lady Catelyn was indeed serious about her plans to send them both to King's Landing, then these next few months would prove to be very testing for her.

It soon transpired that Lady Catelyn was serious – they took advantage of the darkness of the night sky and the sleeping soldiers around the campsite by swearing their solemn vows to her there and then in the pen. The moment Brienne had made her oath, Lady Catelyn took her sword and pressed it hard against Jaime's chest.

Even now that they had set off and left Robb Stark's campsite, Jaime could still hear Lady Catelyn's words, wavering in despair, as the poor, naïve woman desperately pleaded with him to pledge himself to her cause.

'Swear that you will compel your family to honour this pledge and return my daughters safe and unharmed in exchange for your return.' … 'Swear it on your honour as a knight, swear it by the old gods and the new, and I'll send you back to your sister…'

She had urged them to act quickly, and so the moment Jaime had reluctantly said the words, Brienne had grabbed him roughly by his shoulders and restrained him with manacles and a rope for the road. After speaking privately with Lady Catelyn, Brienne had then marched him forwards and they'd left the pen in a hurry. By some miracle, the two of them had managed to leave the campsite unseen, although Jaime's legs were wobbling unsteadily as they made their way into the woods, where Lady Catelyn had said there would be two horses waiting for them.

'I fear I may need help standing,' Jaime muttered as they hurried on. 'I haven't walked in quite some time, I'm sure you'll understand.'

'Shut up and move,' Brienne snapped roughly, jabbing him forwards as she peered through the trees, her eyes wide and alert as she looked out for any sign of soldiers.

'I'd like to say it's nice to meet you as well, but I'm afraid I wouldn't be being completely honest,' Jaime replied, stumbling. 'I'm only sorry you'll have to die, but I'll make it quick and painless, I assure you.'

'I'd like to see you try, Kingslayer,' Brienne snarled in a gruff voice, frowning as his legs kept failing him.

She reluctantly put her arm around him to help keep him stood upright; as much as she hated to touch such a man, it was crucial that they get out of this part of the woods as soon as possible, before Robb Stark's men awoke to find that their prisoner was gone.

Jaime looked around at her, but couldn't appreciate the hilarity of her face and stupid get-up in close-view due to the pitch blackness of the night. He would have that to look forward to tomorrow once dawn broke, no doubt.

'I'm merely jesting.'

'Jesting or not, if you're already planning on going back on your oath to Lady Catelyn, you can think again,' Brienne said shortly as she walked them on hurriedly; she sighed in relief when she caught sight of the two horses tied up to a nearby tree, waiting for them as Lady Catelyn had arranged.

From her speech, Jaime assumed that this strange, grumpy woman was highborn. But from where had Lady Catelyn had the misfortune to come across this sad, lonely, lumbering creature? Where did someone like her even come from? And why was she dressed so ridiculously? What was the point in her?

'It's nothing personal, I assure you. At least, not yet, it depends how annoying you are,' Jaime said thoughtfully, tripping slightly as she kept him upright and led him towards the horses. 'Who are you again, anyway? I'm sorry to say I wasn't particularly listening to Lady Stark earlier, I was still rather in shock when I saw you. I pity any man who-'

But he was interrupted as out of nowhere Brienne put a hood tightly over his head, obscuring his view completely and muffling his voice. She was almost suffocating him in her efforts to silence him, but she didn't seem to care that much that he was struggling to breathe under the hood, despite her promise to keep him safe and alive. Perhaps she was like him and didn't care about the oath they had just made to Lady Catelyn after all. He tried protesting through the hood as Brienne forced him up onto one of the horses, but the brutish woman merely ignored him.

And in that moment Jaime knew he was going to kill this irritating bitch the first opportunity he got.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

Brienne's bedchambers glowed with the warmth from the fire, the flames and their heavy breathing the only sounds that filled the room. His fingertips traced lightly along her bruised arm and bare stomach as they lay beside each other beneath the furs, content and disbelieving. He watched her as she gazed wide-eyed up at the ceiling, lost for words, and he smiled.

'What?' Jaime asked her softly, breaking the comfortable, awed silence.

Brienne's cheeks reddened at once as she glanced briefly at him. 'I just…'

'Go on,' Jaime encouraged, his tone teasing as he leaned around on the bed to face her, and he propped himself up on his elbow as he smiled.

Brienne leaned on her side to face him as well, and she began to chuckle at the tantalising grin on his face. Jaime joined in; her joy was infectious.

'What?' he repeated, still laughing along with her, and he reached out to brush some of her hair back that had stuck to her forehead.

She pressed her lips together as she gazed at him. 'I can't believe we did that,' she murmured.

'I know!' Jaime whispered, looking gleefully bemused, and his expression turned tender as he tilted his head at her. 'But I'm glad we did.'

'You are?'

'Hm-hm.'

Brienne smiled warmly, a smile like none he had ever seen before. 'Me too,' she said, leaning in to meet his lips, as if kissing was suddenly a common, familiar thing for them to do now.

'You have no idea how long I'd been waiting just to kiss you,' Jaime murmured, stroking her cheek. Truthfully, he didn't even think he had any idea how long he'd been waiting.

Brienne frowned at him sceptically. 'Jaime, you don't have to say anything like that, it's all right, I was never expecting-'

'I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it.'

Brienne gazed at him. She supposed he must still be too drunk to think straight. No doubt he would come to his senses tomorrow and speak normally. But for now she could make the most of this soppy man entangled in her arms and gazing lovingly at her. She stroked his cheek and touched her lips to his tenderly again.

'Did it hurt?' he asked her in concern, as she leaned away.

Brienne hesitated slightly, thinking to put on a brave face, but then reconsidered – after all, after what had just happened, she could be as honest with Jaime about absolutely anything. 'A little, at first. But I'm used to pain, and this was…a different kind. It was good,' she replied, stroking his cheek; Jaime closed his eyes, relaxed, as her fingers ran through his messy hair. 'Is it always like that, between a man and a woman? Was that…usual?'

Jaime breathed deeply as he opened his eyes and gazed at her. 'No.'

'Oh,' Brienne said, withdrawing her hand away from his face and averting her gaze, embarrassed. 'I'm sorry, I didn't really know what I-'

'No, Brienne, you misunderstand,' Jaime interrupted her reassuringly, and he chuckled. 'I meant 'no' in a positive way. It's a good thing.'

He meant it. It had never been as loving before with Cersei, nor as long and tender, nor as filled with emotional connection. It had almost felt like it had been Jaime's first time as well. Brienne's lips parted, awestruck as she saw the sincerity in his gaze.

'Everything's changed,' Brienne murmured, slowly intertwining her fingers with his.

'I know.' Jaime smiled; he wasn't worried.

'Will you…sleep here with me tonight?' she asked him tentatively.

'Of course,' Jaime replied. 'If you'll have me.'

Brienne nodded. 'Always.'

He leaned in to kiss her before murmuring reassurances that they would talk in the morning once they had got some decent sleep, and so together they settled down under the fur covers, enveloped in each other's arms, as they both thought back over what had just transpired between them. Brienne was still relishing in the intimacy and newness of such an experience while Jaime felt overwhelmed by just how content he was in this very moment, as if he had finally been able to let go and act freely of his own will and heart for the first time in years. Holding her like this felt so right, like it had always been meant to be. It had certainly been a night that they both knew had been a long time coming. They had fallen in love, and were no longer afraid to hide it, to themselves or to each other. And it was a blissful oblivion…a feeling they both very much hoped would last forever.

Chapter Text

Jaime was too overwhelmed by his emotions to sleep, but Brienne soon drifted off as the fire in the hearth crackled close to them soothingly, and he lay there content in simply listening to the reassuring sounds of her deep breathing. He was still in awe over what had just happened.

How is it possible to love someone this much? he wondered, as he turned to look at her back with a half-longing half-worried expression on his face.

He watched her as she slept on peacefully, blissfully unaware of the storm of panic and fear raging on in his mind.

The euphoria of finally being with Brienne was slowly beginning to wear off, and now the anxiety and doubt was slowly but surely taking over his troubled psyche as the hours ticked by and the wind continued to howl outside and rattle against the windows. Jaime had never felt more confused or scared or vulnerable in his life. He had taken a huge step tonight. He had turned his back on Cersei's abuse and hold over him once and for all, and now lay in the same bed as someone who didn't abuse him or treat him like easily-manipulated dirt, but someone who he believed truly loved him. And yet this was uncharted territory. He had never done anything like this before, and the vivid memory of how the glorious events of tonight had transpired left him feeling rather conflicted as he dwelled on the implications, both good and bad, of what would happen next, and of the complex circumstances of both their lives.

Jaime had loved Brienne for far longer than he had realised, but he hadn't exactly shown this love to her in the way he had envisioned. He had attempted to woo her while intoxicated, which had somehow inexplicably worked, and then bedded her. Looking back at it now, it left Jaime feeling rather ashamed; he had contemplated making love to Brienne before, but he had never once dreamed that it would have come about like this, while they had both been drunk. If they had both been sober and sensible, they might have stopped for a moment to think seriously about what they were getting themselves into, but no – he had taken her virginity, something he valued even if Brienne's views on the matter had become more pragmatic over the years, and he might have very well tarnished her reputation. He had dishonoured her, something Jaime had greatly feared would happen when he had made the decision to ride up North to join her in Winterfell.

And he had dishonoured Cersei as well.

'I've never been with any woman but Cersei…' he had once boasted right in front of Lady Catelyn's brave female protector, whom at the time he'd thought hideous and ugly and unworthy of recognition. How wrong he had been.

And yet, although he hated to admit it to himself, Jaime felt guilty for sleeping with someone other than the one woman he'd been with his entire life. He knew it was right and healthy and good for him to have made such a huge step in moving on, to finally be true to himself and be with the woman he wanted to be with, but still. His fidelity had been one of the few parts of his honour that he'd still clung to, and now that was gone as well. He was still raw from leaving his sister the way he had back in King's Landing. How could he have abandoned her in the middle of a war when she was pregnant with his child? He had broken his vow of loyalty to Cersei, someone he'd thought he had been truly in love with. But he had been mistaken.

Now he knew differently. Now he knew what true love, romantic love, really was. Now he could even consider the potential of a happy future with Brienne.

But Jaime was afraid to let himself hope for such a thing. All he had ever known was Cersei. He had been committed to her his whole life, and he had always felt an irrevocable obligation to his family. Somehow he knew that obligation would eventually draw him back in. He didn't know how or when, but he knew deep down that someday it would happen.

To avoid causing more pain to both him and Brienne, he had even contemplated riding back south to the capital the other day after the battle against the wights, thinking it might be for the best. But instead he had fought against the self-loathing and sense of duty that kept threatening to consume him, and had decided to give himself a second chance at life, a chance at happiness…a chance to stay with Brienne and be with her, because by some miracle that was something Brienne seemed to want as well.

But Jaime knew that he didn't deserve the woman sleeping and dreaming happily beside him. As much as he loved her, as happy as she made him, he was just simply not worthy of her. After all, how could he be? He had very little to offer her in return for all she had given him – he was an exile now, on the run from his monstrous sister, and with no lands and titles and ambitions, and not a clue of what his future had in store for him. He couldn't give Brienne everything she deserved. And she needed to be with someone far better than him – someone who hadn't spread Cersei's disease in destroying the Seven Kingdoms, someone who wasn't plagued by inner struggle and self-hatred and nightmares of past immoral deeds.

Jaime's face fell slightly as he gazed at the nape of Brienne's neck, her bruised back, the soft curls of her short blonde hair as she slept. He hated himself. Even if she had truly wanted it too, he had still taken advantage of her, someone he loved and admired. He had betrayed the two most important women in his life – Cersei, for abandoning her alone and pregnant in the savage capital, and Brienne, for dishonouring her and taking her maidenhead, while knowing she was an unmarried highborn lady.

The way his bare skin touched hers as she slept made him shudder involuntarily. Even his body felt guilty now.

He had acted selfishly, without thinking of the consequences. The war was still going on – both queens Cersei and Daenerys most likely wanted him dead, and now he had dragged Brienne into all of this. He was a horrible person from a notoriously monstrous family, and he had knowingly brought her into that darkness. But it was too late to turn back now. He and Brienne had crossed that bridge. And she had been drunk, just like him – she might feel differently tomorrow morning. She might be angry with him, as she had every right to be. It scared Jaime deeply that she would wake up in a few hours and say it was a mistake. He might have ruined one of the few good things in his life. He may well have just lost his best friend.

And yet somehow he doubted it. He knew Brienne. He could read her better than most. And he'd known how she felt about him since the day he'd given her Oathkeeper years ago.

Jaime turned away from her wistfully and stared up at the ceiling.

I'm not good enough. Please don't let me hurt you.

He had no idea what to do. He knew what he should do, for her own wellbeing – leave at once and never return. But he didn't want to do that. He would never want to do that. He didn't know what was going to happen and he didn't know if he deserved the love of the woman lying beside him, but all he did know was that, despite his turmoil and his conflicting thoughts on tonight, he didn't regret what had happened. Perhaps that was why he felt so guilty – he knew he ought to regret what he had done, but he just felt glad and at peace and even giddy inside. He so dearly hoped she felt the same way.

* * *

'I'm not sharing a horse with her. I don't want-!'

'Well tough shit,' Locke spat, leering at Jaime. 'Seems unfair to force the lovers apart, after all.'

Jaime turned to glare bitterly up at Brienne, who was stood with ropes bound around her waist; she scowled back at him.

They'd been outnumbered when Locke and his men – soldiers under the command of Roose Bolton, apparently – had confronted them on the bridge, and so had been left with no choice but to go with them. Jaime had tried to convince the brutish men to merely let him and Brienne join their group as fellow soldiers while they journeyed towards Harrenhal, but he had been a fool to think he could smooth-talk his way out of this, particularly with the price on his head and all the men in the Riverlands out looking for him. So Jaime was still a captive – only this time, his captor was as well.

To her outrage, Brienne had had her sword and armour forcibly removed from her, revealing a tall and awkward shape in a tunic, jerkin and breeches, but her figure was not as large as Jaime had originally thought; indeed, she was quite thin. It had taken Locke and his men a great deal of time to get over the amusement of her gender, but Jaime had a dark feeling inside that this would not be a topic of amusement for much longer.

Although it was deeply irritating that they had been captured – after all, it would only make Jaime's escape even more challenging and delay his return to Cersei longer – a part of Jaime couldn't help feeling somewhat relieved that they had been interrupted. It had saved him the embarrassment of being beaten at a sword fight at the hands of a woman. He didn't think he could have ever stood the shame.

To both their mortification, Locke forced Jaime and Brienne to share a horse before they went on their way. They were both hoisted up in their restraints onto the saddle so that they were sat back-to-back, and then bound to each other tightly with ropes. Brienne was horrified; she had agreed to escort Jaime safely back to the capital, but sharing a horse and being within such proximity hadn't been part of the bargain.

'This is completely unnecessary-' But Brienne's protests were cut short as Locke slapped her roughly round the cheek; Jaime flinched at the sound.

They set off not long after that, half of Bolton's men leading the way through the woods while the other half followed at the rear and kept a close eye on their new hostages, all the while laughing and jeering about the unfortunate so-called 'lovers'.

'Are you all right?' Jaime asked over his shoulder; he wouldn't be surprised if her cheek had bruised after Locke had struck her.

'What do you care?' Brienne muttered.

Jaime rolled his eyes and remained silent for a while, fed up with her glum attitude. He'd thought their sword fight earlier had been quite fun, a chance to bond, but perhaps she saw it differently. Even if he had fatally wounded her – which, judging from her incredible fighting skill demonstrated on the bridge, would never have happened anyway – he wouldn't have meant it personally. He respected Brienne of Tarth in a way. It was just a shame she kept getting in the way of things.

He didn't like being close to her. There was a strange kind of intimacy that had been forced between them at being tied up on horseback back-to-back like this, and it almost felt like he was being unfaithful to Cersei. At least Brienne made it clear that she was no happier about this than he was.

As they rode along, the Bolton men then began to sing a rousing chorus of 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair', presumably in mockery of their new captives.

'He lifted her high in the air

He sniffed and roared and smelled her there

She kicked and wailed, a maid so fair

But he licked the honey from her hair

From there to here, from here to there

All black and brown and covered with hair

He smelled that girl in the summer air

The bear, the bear and the maiden fair…'

Jaime raised his eyes in despair as the men continued to sing around them. 'I hope you're pleased,' he said sarcastically to Brienne behind him. 'If you had armed me, they never would have taken us.'

'You were armed when we were taken,' Brienne pointed out.

'I was in chains, if you recall,' Jaime snapped irritably as they continued to ride on. 'Our little match would have ended quite quick if my hands weren't bound.'

Brienne frowned at the insinuation. 'All my life I've been hearing, "Jaime Lannister, what a brilliant swordsman"…' she said almost mockingly, her tone cynical. 'You were slower than I expected. And more predictable.'

Jaime rolled his eyes, angry by how much he was letting this beast hurt his pride. 'I've been sitting in a muddy pen wrapped in chains for the past year!' he said indignantly.

'And I'm a woman,' Brienne pointed out. 'I was still beating you.'

'You were not beating me,' Jaime said firmly.

He wracked his brains as he tried to come up with proof to justify his statement…but as he thought back to their swordfight, he could think of nothing. She had knocked him to the ground when Locke and his men had found them. If they had arrived a few second later, Jaime would have been forced to yield to her. The thought made him want to throttle her and yet also express his admiration at the same time.

Jaime was mortified then as he realised that, to an outsider, he and Brienne were sounding like an old married couple bickering away as usual as they continued to argue on the horse. It would only give Bolton's men further fuel to tease them. But Brienne didn't seem perturbed by this fact.

'Maybe you were as good as people said…once,' she went on disdainfully, as she inclined her head back to make sure he could hear her. 'Or maybe people just love to overpraise a famous name.'

There was a pause as her words cut Jaime just as much as her sword had this morning. Could she be right? Was it his family name that had granted him such a legendary reputation, rather than his skill? Had he really deteriorated so much in his ability to fight?

The stupid bitch knows nothing, he thought to himself bitterly. She's just trying to wound my pride and get inside my head. Well two can play at that game.

'When we make camp tonight, you'll be raped. More than once,' Jaime said bluntly, and his voice broke slightly.

He said the words out of anger at her previous remark, but as he spoke them he realised that he was actually quite worried about the inevitability of his statement coming true in a mere matter of hours.

'None of these fellows have ever been with a noblewoman,' he went on, as Brienne's face fell; he felt her shoulders tense up against his. 'You'd be wise not to resist.'

'Would I?' Brienne muttered angrily.

It hadn't even occurred to Brienne that these men would try to rape her; she didn't see herself as a woman that way. She'd vowed to herself years ago that she would never lie with any man unless he was her husband or unless she truly loved and trusted him – both options which she knew would never happen for her. Nevertheless, she would not let these ghastly soldiers ruin that promise she had made to herself in her youth.

'They'll knock your teeth out,' Jaime said.

'You think I care about my teeth?' Brienne asked sceptically.

'No, I don't think you care about your teeth.'

Brienne's silence unnerved him; he knew that, at the slightest provocation on her part, Locke and his men would do much worse than assault her. He respected how fearless she was determined to be, but her attitude left him slightly agitated. He was trying to advise her on how best to survive through this ordeal, as much as he disliked her. Why wouldn't she listen?

Jaime leaned his head back towards her. 'If you fight them, they will kill you. Do you understand?' he said urgently, keeping his voice quiet so the surrounding soldiers wouldn't hear. 'I'm the prisoner of value, not you. Let them have what they want. What does it matter?'

'What does it matter?' Brienne said incredulously.

She was disgusted with him. How did he have any right to say such a thing? He didn't know what it was like to be a woman, let alone an ugly one. He knew nothing.

Jaime regretted his choice of words instantly, but carried on nevertheless. 'Close your eyes. Pretend they're Renly,' he insisted, his voice almost back to its usual sly tone.

'If you were a woman, you wouldn't resist? You'd let them do what they wanted?' Brienne asked him bitterly.

'If I was a woman, I'd make them kill me,' Jaime said heavily. 'But I'm not, thank the gods.'

Brienne's scowl slowly fell from her face as they rode on in forlorn silence. While she remained deep in thought on how she would no doubt end up fighting to the death tonight, just like Jaime would have done if he were to be in her position, Jaime found himself consumed with guilt. In his irritation, he had blurted out something horrible to Brienne and he had most likely frightened her, as much as she acted otherwise. He almost felt inclined to apologize, but he had only been trying to warn her so that she could mentally prepare herself for the inevitable.

Poor, stupid, brave woman.

'You never know, you might be in luck – they might not want to have you with you smelling this bad,' Jaime said airily, in a rather dismal attempt to cheer her up.

Brienne frowned in outrage. 'Excuse me, I smell bad? This coming from the man covered in dirt and mud and his own faeces from the past year?' she said, and Jaime raised his eyebrows in amusement.

'All right, fine, we stink together. Perhaps we're well-suited after all,' he said begrudgingly, his lips twitching.

He noticed that her shoulders were still rather tense; no doubt she couldn't stop thinking about what he had said. He needed to distract her.

'May I use your shoulder as a pillow, my lady?' Jaime said slyly, stretching and sighing as he leant his head against hers. 'I find I'm rather tired all of a sudden, and you're much comfier than what I've been used to.'

This wasn't a lie; for the past year and a half, Jaime had been sleeping against poles, rocks, tree trunks, or the ground. None of them had been very fun.

Brienne was baffled, and it was only when Jaime tried to find an ideal place to rest his head against her shoulder that she realised he was being serious. 'Get off me,' she snapped irritably, shrugging him off her.

Jaime couldn't help laughing at her disgust.

Brienne looked down at her lap as he continued to chuckle away. She didn't like it when Jaime teased her. However, although she would never admit it aloud, she did appreciate the warmth of his back against hers…although it was hardly a comfort to know that the Kingslayer was the only man here she knew would never want or attempt to defile her.

Jaime's laughter seemed to attract the attention of some of the soldiers behind them; two of them came trotting up to them on their horses, grinning wickedly at their hostages.

'How are the lovers doing?' one of the soldiers asked.

Jaime wasn't sure whether he was more insulted or just plain exhausted by their remark; they'd called them 'lovers' plenty of times already since capturing them. 'Don't make me laugh, who'd be mad enough to want to be with this thing?' he said, trying to deter them; Brienne blinked rapidly, trying not to be too hurt by his comment.

The second soldier laughed. 'I know quite a few who would, actually,' he said, leering nastily at Brienne.

The two men then rode on, jeering away, and Brienne felt her chin quiver slightly as she watched the soldiers ride ahead. She realised then that she was afraid.

'Ignore them,' Jaime murmured in her ear. 'Just ignore them.'

'It'll be harder for me to ignore them tonight,' Brienne muttered back.

Jaime's lips parted but he couldn't think of anything to say to reassure her. They were both powerless to stop whatever ghastly things these men had in store for her. It stunned him deeply to realise just how concerned he was about what they were going to do. Brienne was nothing to him after all – he'd even attempted to fatally wound her merely a few hours ago. But still, somehow…he cared. He could even reluctantly acknowledge to himself that it was quite nice to have her so close to him. He had been craving the comfort of non-violent physical human contact for so long inside that horrendous pen, and now he had it, whether Brienne liked it or not.

But for these idiotic men to assume they were actual lovers? The thought repulsed Jaime. As if they could ever believe that he would want to lie with the likes of her.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

When Jaime woke the next morning, his eyes were blinded by the sunlight streaming in through the frosted-over windows. It looked to be a glorious day outside. His blurry gaze then turned to the sleeping woman beside him, her naked body pressed up against his as her head rested against his arm.

Is this a dream?

It took Jaime a few moments to remember the events of last night, and when he did he felt a barely audible chuckle of disbelief and amazement escape his mouth as he gazed at Brienne.

His head ached from the after-effects of the wine and his body still pained him from the many bruises and scars he had obtained during the battle, but the memory of last night was vivid and all he could focus on right now, the only thing that remained clear in his hazy mind. He had come to her bedchamber at night. They had kissed. They had made love. They had broken the rules of traditional society and crossed the boundaries of their relationship. And there was no turning back. The truth was, Jaime wasn't even sure if he wanted to. He knew he still ought to feel regret, as he had done for one troubling moment last night once Brienne had fallen asleep beside him, but now all he could feel was relief and warmth. He felt like he was glowing, and that in that very moment, Brienne was the only source of happiness in his life.

He had never felt this joyful after laying with Cersei. Never. All his life, he'd thought his feelings for Cersei had been true love, but now he knew he had been wrong. So very wrong. He'd known nothing until Brienne. Nothing until last night. Nothing until this very moment here, watching her sleep naked beside him with the sunlight streaming in through the frosty windows.

Noticing that the fire in the hearth had dwindled considerably since he had finally succumbed to sleep a few hours ago, Jaime reluctantly got out of Brienne's bed to pile some more wood onto the fire. He quickly came back, covering both him and Brienne up firmly with the heavy fur covers; Brienne sighed peacefully in her sleep as he tucked her in and reached out to stroke her hair.

By the time Brienne had awoken, Jaime had drifted off back into a doze. It felt strange for her to open her eyes with a smile on her face, but she couldn't help it; the sight of Jaime's face merely inches from hers on the pillow filled her with a joy and warmth she still couldn't quite comprehend. The memories of last night came rushing through her mind, images that made her blush and quiver and almost feel like laughing gleefully in disbelief. It still hadn't sunk in. Ever since Jaime had set her on her mission to find Sansa and they had parted ways in King's Landing, Brienne had dreamed almost every night of Jaime, imagining what it would be like for him to pine after her and want her just as much as she did him. But for this to be reality? It was almost too good to be true.

She couldn't help watching him as he slept beside her, at the rise and fall of his toned bare chest, at the way the morning sunlight illuminated his handsome face and sharp jawline. His features were lined and scarred from his troubles of the recent years but he had aged well. The grey in his hair and short beard almost made him more attractive to Brienne somehow; it made him softer, more real. His right arm rested on her pillow just beside her head, his gnarled stump red and angry from the uncomfortable tightness and friction of his gold hand, the hand that Cersei had constantly forced him to wear out of repulsion and shame.

Never again.

Brienne bit her lip as her thoughts trailed back in detail over last night…she thought of Jaime's tender smile, his loving awestruck gaze, his firm yet gentle hand, his skilled tongue, his lips that had explored every part of her body…

'You'd love to know what it feels like to be a woman,' he had once said tantalisingly to her.

Well he'd certainly shown her what it felt like to be a woman now.

'What is it?' Jaime then mumbled, his voice practically a growl as his eyes flickered open and he smiled at her.

Brienne blinked rapidly, startled; she hadn't realised he had been awake.

'What, why are you smiling?' Jaime asked, leaning closer towards her on the pillow.

Brienne smirked. '"It's bloody hot in here"?'

'Oh, shut up,' Jaime muttered, turning away from her as they both laughed. 'As far as seduction lines go, I realise it wasn't…the best…'

'Oh I'm sorry, was last night meant to be a seduction?' Brienne said, raising her eyebrows at him.

Jaime turned back to face her in mock outrage as she leaned up on the pillow slightly, chuckling at him. Her eyes and beam were alight with joy. It stunned Jaime so much that it made his face falter.

'What?' Brienne asked.

'It's just strange how I never saw you laugh before, until the other day,' Jaime murmured, and he tentatively reached out to stroke her bare arm.

'I could say the same about you. I suppose we just never had much reason to before,' Brienne said softly.

'No. We didn't.'

Jaime couldn't stop gazing at her. He was overcome with relief; she didn't seem full of regret or distaste or embarrassment. If anything, she seemed more eager to be close to him.

'How's your head?' she asked, giving him a knowing look. 'You had a fair bit of wine last night.'

Jaime rolled his eyes as he propped the pillow up against the wall and sat up. 'My own fault. I was a coward…I thought you'd reject me-'

'Oh so your charming drunken behaviour was for my benefit?' Brienne said incredulously, and Jaime gaped at her.

'Why do you insist on mocking me?' he said, chuckling. 'I thought you and I were past that now.'

Brienne raised her eyebrows. 'I certainly hope not.'

Jaime hesitated. 'Me too,' he admitted grudgingly with a twitch of his lips, as Brienne sat up to mirror his position, pulling the fur covers up with her.

There was a small pause as they both simply sat there under the covers looking at each other, neither of them sure of what to say. They both wore small, knowing smiles.

Brienne then cleared her throat, almost nervously. 'So…you drank yourself into oblivion because you felt bad after what Tyrion said. Was it worth it?' she asked, tilting her head at him.

Jaime stared at her. He didn't understand what she meant. And then it hit him.

'You think I slept with you because I was drunk? Because I pitied you?' Jaime said, almost angrily.

Brienne looked down awkwardly. 'W-well I…I…'

She trailed off as Jaime reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers. Brienne squeezed his hand back, reassured by the sword callouses on both their fingertips, and she glanced up at him from under her lashes to see that he no longer looked insulted…although he did look sad.

'Do you really think I care so little for your honour?' Jaime asked quietly, dismayed.

'No, of course not,' Brienne said earnestly. 'But…it's me. Look at me. I'm not a pretty sight to look at, you've said so yourself.'

Jaime smiled sadly, ashamed by the reminder of his younger self's harsh jibes towards her, and gave her hand another squeeze. 'You're wrong. I was wrong. And…you must know how much I…' He broke off and swallowed; even now, after all they had done last night, he still couldn't find the words.

'How much you what?' Brienne prompted gently, her heart racing.

There was a pause as Jaime simply gazed at her, and he shook his head slowly.

'You have no idea, do you? You have no idea how much I feel for you,' he murmured.

Brienne's bottom lip trembled slightly, and she looked down at their intertwined hands. 'Jaime, please don't say these things because you feel you have to-'

'I'm saying these things because I know them to be true,' Jaime interrupted firmly. 'As unlikely as it may have seemed when we first met.'

Brienne glared at him for a moment, and then they both chuckled. He rested his forehead against hers as they laughed, relishing in the warmth of her touch and her closeness. He wished they could just stay here like this, just him and Brienne, forever, with no complications and no outside world to bother them. A simpler life. A happier life.

'That night we first met, you said you'd never been with anyone but Cersei,' Brienne said tentatively, as she leaned away from him. 'You were…loyal to her.'

Jaime nodded. 'I was. But that's over now. Don't get me wrong…she's my sister, and despite everything she's done, despite the way she's treated me and countless others, I…I will always love her, she is my family.'

'I know that,' Brienne said in a small voice. 'I understand.'

'But you, Brienne, I…' Jaime took a deep breath as he gripped her hand tightly. 'You were the reason I came all the way here to Winterfell. You were what kept me going in my darkest days at King's Landing after you left, through my grief for Myrcella and Tommen, even though you weren't there. When I saw you at Riverrun, I…I wanted to leave with you and Podrick.'

Brienne felt her eyes begin to well up with tears as she gazed at him and realised his words to be sincere. Her chin quivered as she smiled at him, just like the way she'd smiled at him when he'd told her to rise as a knight, but then her eyes widened.

'Pod,' she said, alarmed. 'What if he finds out about this?'

'We can be discreet. Are you really that ashamed for me to be found in your bed?' Jaime asked playfully.

'Ashamed?'

Brienne laughed. Did he really not know how beautiful he looked? He was like a god.

'Well I wouldn't blame you if you were,' Jaime said, and he sighed. 'Your first time shouldn't have been with someone as wretched as me.'

'But I wanted it to be you,' Brienne said encouragingly. 'And that's all that really matters, isn't it?'

He looked away from her. 'How I wish it were,' he muttered.

'Jaime,' Brienne murmured, forcing him to look back at her. 'Don't talk like that. Please.'

He was scared that he wasn't enough. He was scared to believe that someone like her could possibly want someone like him. But he realised as he gazed into her eyes that he had forgotten something crucial – Brienne saw him. She saw him and knew him truly, and loved him for the man he was. And that was all that he had wanted for longer than he, she or anyone could possibly know.

'All right,' Jaime said with a smile. 'I'll do my best.'

Brienne smiled back. 'So…what do we do now?' she asked warily.

'Well, I don't know about you, but I could do with a drink. Water, I mean,' he clarified hastily. 'So we could get some food and drink from the hall…then…take it from there?'

'I actually meant-'

'I know what you meant,' Jaime reassured her, and he smiled. 'We could come back here afterwards.'

Brienne's heart skipped a beat as she took in the playful glint in his eyes. The thought of repeating last night was more thrilling than she could say.

'Aren't you worried people will talk if you're seen going into my chambers rather than yours?' she asked.

'Let them talk,' Jaime said, but then he sighed. 'No, I'm sorry, that's…that's not right. I'm being selfish again.'

'How are you the one being selfish?' Brienne said incredulously, frowning. 'You're the one they'll mock and ridicule if they find out about us. Besides, you don't want to be stuck with me…'

'But I do. That's the point,' Jaime said, meeting her gaze. 'But it's your reputation we've got to think about.'

'I don't care about that right now.'

A pause fell as the two lovers gazed at each other, lost in each other's eyes and overwhelmed by sheer devotion and excitement and bliss. They still couldn't believe that this had happened.

'So…we come back here later?' Brienne asked hopefully.

Jaime nudged her bare arm with his own. 'Well we have nowhere else to be.'

'W-well I actually need to see Lady Sansa at some point, there's to be a council session later today,' Brienne replied awkwardly.

'Oh of course,' Jaime said, and his face fell. 'The war against my sister.'

Brienne's eyes dropped. 'I'm sorry,' she murmured.

'I know. Thank you,' Jaime said sincerely, and he forced a smile at her. 'Will you come and see me later?'

'If you want me to, of course,' Brienne replied, her cheeks warming slightly.

'Good.'

'Lady Sansa will ask what your plan is, by the way,' she warned him.

'Ah. Yes. Unless she orders my execution,' Jaime said in a casual tone. 'Although that seems more the Targaryen queen's style.'

'Hmm,' Brienne said sternly. 'Well she would have to get through me.'

Jaime raised his eyebrows at her. 'I'd like to see her try.'

They looked at each other for a moment, their lips twitching and eyes burning, and then Brienne leaned in; Jaime's lips met hers and they sank back down the pillows and into the covers. It felt so natural to kiss Jaime; their lips moved in perfect synchrony, their arms perfectly wrapped around each other so that they were pressed closely together. Could this really become the new norm for her? Could she really wake up to his face and his tender kiss every morning? When they'd first met, so very long ago, Brienne had never thought that she would find herself here, in Jaime's arms, and so blissfully in love with him. It was strange to think back to her earlier contempt for him now.

When they broke apart, they were both smiling. It was an expression neither of their facial muscles were used to; they ached almost as much as their bruises and scars acquired during the battle.

'You know, I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you last night,' Jaime murmured softly, stroking her arm.

'You are?' Brienne said, raising her eyebrows. 'I'm not.'

Jaime frowned at her for a moment, confused, and then an irresistible smile fell on his face. 'I didn't mean…in here,' he said, chuckling. 'I meant downstairs in the corridor, earlier. About…you speaking up for me to the northmen.'

'Oh. You don't need to apologise.'

'I do,' Jaime insisted, brushing her hair back. 'You were defending me. And I'm grateful. I over-reacted, that's all. I'm not used to…people seeing me as someone other than the Kingslayer.'

Brienne smiled tenderly at him. 'Well you should get used to it,' she said softly.

Jaime gazed at her with parted lips, utterly in awe. He didn't understand how he had suddenly got so lucky.

'Thank the gods for you,' he said, his gaze rather watery as he tilted her chin and brought her lips back to his.

Afterwards, they were reluctantly forced to agree that they should soon leave the comfort of Brienne's bedchamber and make an appearance outside. They dressed quickly – Brienne found new clothes for herself and then helped Jaime with his breeches, but turned away with a frown when Jaime insisted on reattaching his golden hand.

'Everyone but you is horrified by the sight of this,' Jaime explained, indicating his stump before covering it with the hand.

They both agreed that Jaime should leave the bedchamber before Brienne so that they wouldn't be seen entering the great hall for food together – anything to avoid suspicion for as long as they could get away with.

'There doesn't seem to be anyone out there at the minute,' Jaime said, his ear pressed against the closed door. 'I'll check it's clear and then leave.'

'I'll follow a few minutes later.'

'Good. And…may we have a proper talk about…this…later?' Jaime asked, looking hopefully at Brienne.

Brienne's heart skipped a beat. ''This' being…?'

Jaime smiled. 'Us.'

'Yes,' Brienne replied, her stomach fluttering at the way he said 'us'.

Jaime nodded, smiling gratefully, and gave her hand a squeeze before turning to open the door. Brienne's chin quivered slightly as she watched him; she wasn't an idiot…she knew this was their last hurrah and that he would no doubt want to use this 'talk' later to bid her farewell. She knew he was going to leave – after all, how could he not? Winterfell wasn't his home and his obligations lay elsewhere, with his sister.

But what would it hurt for Brienne to deny that fact to herself a little longer?

'Wait,' she said, before he could open the door.

Jaime stopped and turned around just in time for Brienne to close the distance between them in a single step and place a brief kiss on his lips. Jaime kissed her back softly, his hand rising to her cheek, and when they leaned apart he smiled lovingly at her.

'I'll see you soon,' he murmured, and with that he opened the door and left the bedchamber, shutting the door quickly behind him and leaving Brienne stood there with her lips and body tingling with delirious happiness and excitement.

As much as his tiredness and headache threatened to consume him, Jaime couldn't help grinning to himself as he hurried away along the corridor and down the stone steps. He'd been wrong to be kept awake by his fears in the early hours of this morning; the influence of wine (or lack of, in this morning's case) seemed to make no difference to Brienne's desires and feelings. She regretted nothing. She had smiled more this morning than he had ever seen before. So had he, in fact.

When Jaime entered the hall, he found the impressive room to be mostly empty aside from the other late-morning risers helping themselves to breakfast, Tyrion being among them. Servants had already cleaned up most of the mess from the drunken festivities last night. Jaime crossed the hall towards the top table where Tyrion was eating and conversing with Ser Davos and Lady Sansa in low, worried voices; Tyrion gestured the empty seat beside him and took a brief look at his brother as he joined them. Jaime's hair was tousled, the tunic he wore under his jerkin was slightly larger and a blue-grey colour instead of the one he had worn last night, his eyes were tired but alight and sparkling, and he seemed unable to stop smiling. The two brothers gave each other a knowing glance but said nothing, conscious of the others sat around them; Tyrion's lips twitched and he clapped Jaime on the back.

Finally, Tyrion thought triumphantly.

Jaime then looked up as he saw Brienne herself enter the great hall with Pod at her side, and the two friends found a table together at the far end of the hall. Brienne hesitantly looked over and met Jaime's gaze from across the hall, and they both smiled. And Jaime knew then – from the colouring of her cheeks and nervous tremble of her smiling lips, from the way his heart pounded with longing and joy and contentment, perhaps even from the moment of their first embrace last night – that his dream of a happy life, of a wife and children he loved, might finally come true.

Chapter Text

There was no respite from the cold and snow within Winterfell's walls; the chill and frost were particularly prominent in the stone corridors. As she and Pod left the great hall, Brienne couldn't help wishing that she'd put on her fur cloak before leaving her bedchamber for breakfast…but she'd been too dazed at the time to think about that.

'Milady, what is that?'

Brienne blinked out of reverie and turned to see that Pod was frowning in concern at her as they walked side-by-side along the corridor.

'What's what?' Brienne asked, confused.

'That bruise…it wasn't there yesterday…did one of the White Walkers bite you there?!' Pod asked, horrified, and he brought them both to a halt.

Brienne was stunned by how his hand reached out for her neck, but then as Pod's fingers made contact with the bruise, she remembered Jaime's lips on that very spot last night. Her eyes widened.

'Oh, yes,' Brienne said blankly, her face frozen in mortification. 'A White Walker. Yes.'

To her alarm, none other than Jaime himself then appeared behind them both, a certain swagger to his step as he came to a halt and smiled politely at Brienne and Pod.

'Good morning, Pod. Lady Brienne,' he greeted amiably, and Pod raised his eyebrows bemusedly at him; he'd never seen Jaime acting so chirpy.

'Ser Jaime, good morning, how are you?' Brienne asked, looking away so as to avoid the twitch of his lips and his teasing gaze.

'Very well, thank you, and you?' Jaime said, trying to keep his smile under control.

'I'm-'

'She needs to see the maester again, we missed that on her neck,' Pod said worriedly, pointing out the mark to Jaime. 'It needs seeing to, don't you think, Ser Jaime? What if it's infected?'

Jaime leaned towards Brienne, his hand resting on her shoulder as he pretended to inspect the mark his urgent lips had left on her skin. 'Oh it's just a bruise, I doubt it will turn Brienne into one of those ghastly things if that's what you're worried about, Pod,' he said brightly, and it was clear that he was thoroughly enjoying every moment of this. 'It does look rather severe though, my lady, that wight must have been very…insistent.'

Brienne stared at him. 'It was.'

He'd thought that she would be angry with him for teasing her so, but when Jaime met Brienne's gaze, he found that she too was trying not to smile and that her eyes had that burning look in them. She had given him that look plenty of times last night…before she had closed them in ecstasy, her back arched, her knuckles tight as they gripped the sheets beneath her before moving to clutch at his back, her fingernails digging into his flesh…

Pod glanced back and forth between them warily; he felt as if he were intruding on something private. 'Well I, err…if you're sure it's nothing too serious, I'd better get on…' he said awkwardly, backing away, 'with your permission, that is, milady.'

'Of course, Pod, you don't need to ask,' Brienne said, tearing her gaze away from Jaime, and she nodded at him. 'I'll see you later.'

The moment Pod had walked away from them and disappeared around the corner, Jaime burst out laughing. Brienne slapped his arm in irritation, trying but failing not to smile.

'Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?' she demanded exasperatedly, indicating the mark on her neck.

'I didn't see it, I'm sorry!' Jaime said earnestly, still chuckling. 'The lighting here is-'

'Oh shut up,' Brienne muttered, pursing her lips. 'I do hate you sometimes, you know.'

'And I like you very much too,' Jaime said, making Brienne smile as he closed the distance between them with a few deliberate steps. 'Do I still have permission to return to your chambers tonight?'

Brienne widened her eyes at him in alarm, before looking urgently around at either end of the corridor to make sure that no one was within earshot. Luckily, it was empty. She turned back to Jaime and read the smouldering look in his eyes, the way his lips twisted seductively at one end. She still couldn't believe that he had seen her naked – her, with her awkward body that was too big, too muscular and too bruised and scarred – and yet still wanted her.

'As long as this doesn't happen again,' Brienne said warningly, indicating the mark on her neck.

Jaime frowned. 'I thought you liked that,' he said tantalisingly, reaching out to stroke the bruise with his fingers. 'You certainly seemed to, anyway-'

'Jaime,' Brienne cut over him, blushing furiously as she backed away, and Jaime grinned, 'we can't expect Pod to believe that White Walkers are the cause of- what, why are you smiling like that?'

'Nothing. It's just nice to hear you call me Jaime,' he said softly; he still wasn't used to her addressing him without a title.

Brienne considered him for a moment and then rolled her eyes at his sentimentality, unable to stop smiling.

'Now I must go,' Jaime said, to her disappointment. 'I've been granted an audience with Lady Sansa and I mustn't be late.'

Brienne looked shocked. 'I'm sorry, you've been what?!'

'I asked Tyrion to put in a good word for me over breakfast; she's said she'll see me now. I'm to meet her upstairs,' Jaime explained.

'B-but what are you going to speak to her about?' Brienne asked, her brow creased in worry; was he already wanting to request arrangements to be made for his departure? So soon?

Jaime tilted his head at her. 'I can't put it off forever, Brienne. The battle's done, and I need to know what she intends to do with me,' he said heavily. 'You said so yourself earlier this morning, she'll want to get things…settled.'

'All right,' Brienne said with a sigh, trying to keep the nerves out of her voice. 'Good luck. I'll see you later?'

Jaime smiled at her hopeful tone. 'Of course.'

He walked away but had only gone a few steps when he turned back; glancing around quickly to check that the coast was clear, he swooped up to her, cupped her face in his gloved hands and pressed his lips firmly yet tenderly to hers, catching Brienne completely off guard. He broke apart from her just as quickly, pleased that he had managed to steal a kiss from her, and stroked her cheek as he took in her blush and the way she pressed her smiling lips together giddily. She was looking at him as if she were surprised that he found her attractive or that he was happy to risk being seen like that by someone. Grinning, Jaime touched his lips briefly to hers again and then walked away down the corridor, leaving Brienne flustered and beaming.

Lady Sansa had already gone up and was waiting for him in her study. Jaime took a deep breath before knocking on her door; and forced a polite smile on his face the moment she told him to enter from inside.

'Lady Sansa,' Jaime said at once, shutting the door behind him.

Sansa rose to her feet. 'Ser Jaime,' she greeted from behind her ornate desk, and she gestured the chair opposite her. 'Please, do sit.'

Jaime had had very little contact with Lady Sansa, ever since he had first met her as a child. He had been around briefly during her time at King's Landing, before she had escaped at the wedding immediately after Joffrey's murder, and had only known her to be a timid teenage girl, having been abused into silence and simply doing what was expected of her out of fear of his monstrous family (asides from perhaps her husband, Tyrion). But now a considerable amount of time had passed, and Sansa Stark had grown into a strong, commanding woman who was clever and brave and unafraid to say and do what needed to be done for the good of her people. Brienne had talked to Jaime briefly about how well Sansa ruled as the Lady of Winterfell, and Jaime did not doubt her for one instant – simply seeing Sansa stood before him with her long red hair and regal black dress and cool composure was enough to make him feel proud of the woman she had become. He could even sense Brienne's own influence in Sansa's demeanour.

'Thank you for allowing me to see you,' Jaime said gratefully, taking his allocated seat.

'I was wanting to talk to you anyway, your brother just persuaded me to speed up the process,' Sansa said as she sat back down. 'I trust you enjoyed yourself last night?'

Jaime felt himself freeze. 'M-my lady?'

An awkward pause fell between them, during which a flicker of a smile appeared momentarily on Sansa's face as she stared at him.

'At the feast,' she clarified.

'Oh. Yes,' Jaime said hastily, mortified. 'It was splendid.'

'You certainly seemed to be providing a lot of laughter and entertainment, from what I could see,' Sansa said, watching him carefully.

Jaime forced a chuckle. 'That was more Tyrion's doing rather than mine.'

'I don't doubt it. Your brother's always been a joker.'

Jaime couldn't tell if she meant that with affection or distaste, and a silence fell as they both looked at each other, waiting to see who would make the first move in their discussion.

Eventually Sansa sighed. 'I assume there is a point to this meeting that you would like to address, Ser Jaime, and ideally sometime soon,' she said coolly.

'Y-yes, my lady. I…was wanting to discuss my future here,' Jaime began tentatively. 'Now that the war against the dead is over, I…assume you'll be wanting to make plans here at Winterfell for…what comes next.'

'Indeed. Though I'm not sure why any of those plans should concern you,' Sansa said, frowning thoughtfully at him. 'You no longer have any oaths holding you here, after all, and you're not exactly a friend to the Starks…I must confess I was surprised you didn't make a run for it back to King's Landing the moment the battle here was won.'

Jaime clenched his jaw. 'That's not who I am. Not anymore,' he said, quietly but firmly.

There was a silence as Sansa simply stared at him, thinking deeply.

'Lady – sorry, Ser Brienne trusts you completely,' she said. 'Not many others do, aside from perhaps Tyrion.'

'No,' Jaime agreed, a soft smile forming on his lips. 'I am extremely lucky to have an ally in Brienne.'

'Is that all she is to you? An ally?' Sansa asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

Jaime swallowed nervously as he tilted his head questioningly at her. 'My lady?'

'Only I couldn't help noticing that you seem to have been paying court to her since the moment you arrived here in Winterfell,' Sansa said casually.

A pause fell between them. Jaime was lost for words. Had he really been so blindingly obvious in front of everyone? No wonder Cersei had gotten so agitated every time she'd seen him and Brienne together.

Sansa looked across at Jaime with a hint of a smirk on her face. 'You care for Brienne very much, don't you?'

'I do,' Jaime said without reservation. 'Which is why I would like to stay.'

'You speak as if you have a choice in the matter,' Sansa said, an she frowned at him again. 'I was under the impression you didn't particularly like it here in the North, anyway.'

'It's growing on me,' Jaime said, smiling at the words. 'Forgive me for being untoward, Lady Sansa. I understand you don't trust me – I'm a Lannister, after all. But I don't wish to cause any trouble. I don't wish to be any part in this war, or the fight against my sister. You can keep me here as leverage if you want – it certainly won't work, Cersei wouldn't care – but, hostage or not, all I ask respectfully is that I can remain here in Winterfell. Assuming Ser Brienne will stay here with you.'

'She will, yes,' Sansa said bemusedly.

She looked perplexed; touched, even. Can this really be Jaime Lannister? she wondered. It at least explained why Brienne had always spoken so highly of him. Sansa watched Jaime carefully, taking in his tender expression as he spoke and thought of the woman they both admired so very much, and Sansa's lips parted in shock.

'That's why you came all this way, isn't it? For her,' she said, dazed.

'For her, yes, but also because I had pledged to do so,' Jaime replied. 'I'd like to think that upholding oaths has been my new forte since Brienne and I first met.'

A small smile fell on Sansa's lips. 'Her sword is called 'Oathkeeper'. What a strange coincidence.'

'Indeed.'

'It was a very generous gift for you to bestow on her. I haven't thanked you, for what you did – sending her to find me,' Sansa said sincerely. 'Without her, I would not be alive.'

'Neither would I,' Jaime said, and another silence fell for a few moments while they looked at each other.

Sansa sighed. 'You wish to stay by her side.' It wasn't a question.

Jaime nodded. 'I have allowed Brienne and myself to part ways too many times. I won't do it again.'

He spoke with such certainty and clarity, his eyes brimming with earnest love for the woman they spoke off as he wordlessly begged Sansa to grant him his wish. His intensity almost made Sansa look away, flustered. She found herself somewhat jealous of Brienne – she wished she could have found a man who would speak of her in such a way.

Sansa cleared her throat briefly. 'I will obviously have to discuss the matter with Brienne myself, you understand? You never know…she might want you gone and forbidden from entering the grounds ever again. Although…something tells me that won't be the case,' she said, exchanging a knowing look with Jaime, and he smiled at her.

'I will comply with whatever you command, Lady Sansa,' he promised. 'I don't expect you to allow me to roam free around the castle now the battle against the dead is won. If you wish me to be imprisoned for my past crimes, I would understand.'

But Sansa shook her head at him. 'You will not be my prisoner, Ser Jaime. You left the enemy and came all this way to fight for Winterfell. You defended the castle, and you helped save the lives of my people. You will be my guest,' she declared, and as Jaime gaped at her in shock, Sansa smiled. 'Brienne was right; you are an honourable man.'

A shaky breath escaped Jaime's mouth as he tried not to let his emotions get the better of him. 'Thank you, my lady. That means a great deal to me, truly,' he said, and Sansa nodded kindly at him.

When he left her study moments later, Jaime found himself in utter awe, longing to locate Brienne as Sansa's words echoed in his ears. For the first time, he felt like he had made the right decision. For the first time, he felt like he belonged.

* * *

Several weeks had passed since the news of Lady Catelyn's death. Having been forced to grieve quickly in order to put on the façade of wanting to remain in the good graces of the Lannister family, Brienne had managed to adjust to the hot temperatures and the routines of daily life at court in King's Landing. However, despite being offered permanent residence here, she did not consider the Red Keep to be her home…and she sensed that she wasn't alone in that regard.

After accepting and acknowledging the begrudging respect they had formed for one another since Locke had captured them a few months ago, Jaime and Brienne had become friends upon arriving in the capital. Both of them had more or less recovered from their wounds obtained during their journey from the Riverlands now, after many attentive examinations and treatment from Qyburn. Jaime had even got back to work in his new position as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, with a new impressive golden suit of armour and sword. But his gruelling duties and possessive family didn't keep him from spending time with his former captor.

The vulnerability and tenderness (and, at times, even intimacy) that had blossomed between Jaime and Brienne during their journey back from Harrenhal to the capital seemed to have slowly evaporated since Jaime had been launched straight back into his Kingsguard duties and golden-lion façade at the Red Keep. Now that he and Brienne were no longer in peril or grieving or weakened from their wounds, they had reverted back to their formal, bickering selves, only at least this time they didn't mean their insults and felt moderately affectionate towards one another.

They frequently argued, but this had become such a familiar pastime that it was almost comforting to Jaime now; it had only been a few weeks, and yet he couldn't imagine King's Landing without Brienne's presence. He would be somewhat lost here without her, guiding him through this difficult time adjusting to his new life and position here. Although she didn't like to admit it, Brienne felt the same way; sometimes she could forget how truly alone she was here in this strange, daunting city when she was with Jaime. She didn't like spending time at court and found it almost impossible to relax enough to hold conversation with any of the people here, but at least Jaime treated her like an ordinary person, rather than a freak. He made her feel normal. Comfortable, even. They could simply be two friends on a hot summer's day bickering and bantering and watching the world pass by. And it made them both content, if only for a short time, before they would both have to part ways to avoid suspicion from any civilians and spies, and attend to their separate duties.

Of course, they had to be discreet whenever they met. Brienne was Jaime's guest here at King's Landing, but in Cersei's mind she was Jaime's prisoner, seeming as she had been in the service of the late Catelyn Stark. Jaime knew that he would never be allowed to voluntarily seek out time with someone who wasn't on the side of the Lannisters, so it was with great caution that he arranged a rendezvous point and time on occasional intervals every few days.

On one particular day, Brienne found herself waiting to meet with him, at her request, outside near the Red Keep's Godswood. She was anxious to discuss the wellbeing of the Stark girls; it was beyond time they settled matters on what they were do, and her sense of duty towards the innocent young daughters of Lady Catelyn had been all Brienne had had to cling onto in order to get her through these trying weeks here in the intimidating capital.

As she waited for Jaime to arrive, she found herself watching a young man and woman nearby, barely past the age of twenty, huddled together in a secluded corner of the gardens, their hands intertwined, their foreheads against each other's, their expressions loving and adoring as they shared a tender kiss. To Brienne, the courting couple seemed to emit a sort of ethereal glow, an ambiance of such joy where nothing else seemed to matter to them but each other. Brienne had seen many pairs like that since arriving here at the capital. It made her somewhat sad to know that she would never experience that happy glow, that joyous feeling in your heart. As hard as she might wish for it, it would never happen for her. After all, how could it? She was undesirable, unlikeable, and everything a woman shouldn't be.

'Hello.'

Brienne was startled; she hadn't heard him arrive. Sometimes she suspected that Jaime approached her quietly like that on purpose, just because it amused him so to see her jump. Not that he often succeeded – Brienne was nearly always on high alert, as if on guard duty, wherever she went in this strange city. She blinked rapidly as she turned around to face him; it had been weeks since his lengthy session with the barber, and yet Brienne still couldn't get over her amazement of how handsome Jaime looked with his clean-shaven face, his cheeks scarred with the marks of their shared journey through the Riverlands with Locke, and his smart short haircut. She knew she must look unbelievably stupid next to him in comparison, but luckily for her they often arranged to meet somewhere out-of-sight of those people who mattered. At least today he was in his indistinctive brown leather clothing rather than his glorified, imposing armour.

'Ser Jaime,' Brienne greeted, bowing her head, and Jaime's lips twitched; even after everything they had been through, Brienne still insisted that they address each other formally.

He looked her over briefly, always anxious to check that she was well and being cared for. Today she was dressed in the blue and tan Tarth-emblazoned clothes he had gifted her with two weeks past; a simple leather jerkin over a large skirt. The look suited her.

'How are you, Lady Brienne?' he asked politely, walking towards her.

'I'm well, thank you. And you?'

'I…' Jaime trailed off and sighed. 'Well, you know.'

They looked at each other with sad half-smiles on their faces, but before either of them could say anything, they were then distracted by the sound of a girl giggling. Jaime looked over Brienne's shoulder to the spot she had been gazing longingly at, and spotted the young couple sat laughing together and kissing over in the corner of the gardens.

'Oh. So that's who you were watching,' Jaime noted, frowning bemusedly as he turned away from the couple and back to Brienne.

Her face had fallen slightly in embarrassment. She frequently forgot how this irritating man could read her like an open book now. He nearly always knew exactly what was going through her mind.

'I never thought you cared about any of that, my lady,' Jaime said curiously.

'I don't,' Brienne said at once, flushing slightly as she looked away from him, irritated.

Jaime smirked; she was very unconvincing. 'You're a terrible liar, you know. It doesn't come naturally to you.'

'You say that like it's a good thing,' Brienne muttered glumly.

Last year, she had thought of deceit as treacherous and dishonourable, but now the past few traumatic months of her life had taught her to be a cynic and had opened her up to the brutalities of the real world. If she was to survive, she needed to learn how to lie.

Jaime hesitated thoughtfully. 'Yes. Well I think in some ways it is,' he said, as the giggling couple then went hurrying past them both hand-in-hand, and he smiled at her. 'Very well then. If it wasn't those young lovers, what were you thinking about? You seemed rather…deep in concentration.'

Brienne turned her back on the departing couple as she addressed him. 'I was thinking that Lady Catelyn would have been horrified to discover her daughter's been married off to a Lannister,' she said coolly.

Jaime chuckled and nodded in agreement. 'I'll try not to take too much offence at that.'

Brienne gave him a hard look. She hadn't meant it like that. His house name was like a curse, but he wasn't like the others in his family, Brienne was certain of that now.

'It's better for her sake that Tyrion's her husband rather than Joffrey, believe me,' Jaime said darkly.

'And will your brother treat her honourably?' Brienne asked as they began walking side-by-side down the path.

'He will. He even has some experience; he was married once before. Though…only briefly,' Jaime said, and he grimaced.

Brienne raised an eyebrow at him. 'That sounds rather ominous.'

'A tale for another time,' he said. 'I bored you enough with stories of my family on the journey back from Harrenhal.'

Brienne looked down at her feet as they walked on towards the cliff edge of the Godswood, the sound of the sea's crashing waves getting louder as they went. She hadn't been bored at all. On the contrary, she'd been fascinated, not to mention touched that he would want to share such stories about the people closest to him to someone like her.

'Even if he does treat her well…this place is not her home,' Brienne murmured, frowning anxiously at him as they reached the edge and rested against the brick wall, overlooking the glorious ocean.

Jaime glanced at her, assuming from her tone and expression that there was a point she was trying to make. She then looked pointedly down at the ground far below them, closer to the sea; Jaime followed her gaze to see the familiar shining red hair of young Sansa Stark, knelt down on the ground with her eyes closed in prayer. Jaime realised then why Brienne had suggested the Godswood as their meeting place today – she had known that Sansa would be there, praying, to further strengthen her argument. Jaime sighed, half in resignation and half in admiration of Brienne, as he gazed down pitifully at his poor new sister-in-law.

'There she is,' Brienne said, as they watched the young girl from above.

'Yes, there she is,' Jaime said heavily. 'And?'

Brienne rounded on him as she leant on the wall. 'You made a promise,' she said firmly.

Jaime nodded, avoiding her stern gaze as he tapped his fingers on the wall. 'To return the Stark girls to their mother, who is now dead,' he pointed out, tilting his head at Brienne with a sceptical expression.

'To keep them safe,' Brienne insisted, her tone irritable as she glared at him; why was he so reluctant?

'Well, Arya Stark hasn't been seen since her father was killed. Where do you think she is?' Jaime said, pulling a face. 'My money's on dead. There's a certain safety in death, wouldn't you say? And Sansa Stark is now…Sansa Lannister. Bit of a complication.'

Brienne resented his tone. He was speaking almost like the old Jaime would have done. But she knew him now. She had witnessed the way he had changed. And she knew he wouldn't be able to keep up this pretence of no longer caring.

'A complication does not release you from a vow,' Brienne said sternly.

'What do you want me to do?' Jaime demanded, exasperated. 'Kidnap my sister-in-law? And-and take her where? Where would she be safer than here?'

Incredulous, Brienne straightened up, her eyes boring into his. 'Look me in the eye and tell me that you think she'll be safe in King's Landing,' she said, nearing towards him.

Jaime stared back at her, his eyes squinting slightly against the glare of the sunlight, and grimaced irritably as he realised he had no comeback. She was too stubborn to back down anyway, she always was.

Why does she always have to be so infuriating? Why do I like to keep having her around when she's so intolerable?

He turned away from her and gazed out at the sea, too annoyed to face the satisfied gleam in her eyes as Brienne continued to watch him, knowing that she had won the argument. Ever since they had arrived here in the capital, even through her mourning of Lady Catelyn, Brienne had been determined to force Jaime to think beyond his own selfish existence, as if she were afraid he would go back to thinking like a Lannister if she didn't. Deep down, Jaime was grateful for her efforts – she seemed to bring out the best in him, after all, and he had become a slightly more moral person due to her influence – however right now he was too stubborn to oblige her.

Jaime turned back to face her, tilting his head exasperatedly. 'Are you sure we're not related?' he asked.

Brienne stared at him, alarmed. The way he'd spoken the words had almost sounded as if he was flirting with her.

'Ever since I've returned, every Lannister I've seen has been a miserable pain in my arse,' he went on indignantly, sounding like a petulant little boy. 'Maybe you're a Lannister, too. You've got the hair for it, if not the looks.'

With a flicker of his eyebrows, Jaime then swaggered off, away from the cliffs and the sea and back in the direction of the Red Keep. Brienne watched him go, unperturbed; they both knew that he only insulted her appearance whenever he lost an argument and couldn't think of any decent response.

But it wasn't just that. Ever since he had rescued her from Harrenhal, Jaime had been frequently forced to hit her (and himself) with her obvious lack of beauty whenever he was confronted with the strange feelings inside that kept threatening to bubble to his consciousness. He simply didn't know what to do with them. He shook his head rapidly to himself now as he strode ahead, but it didn't surprise him one bit when he heard Brienne's heavy footsteps behind him. Deep down, he was glad she was following.

'You think insulting me will silence me on the subject?' Brienne said sceptically from behind as they re-entered the gardens of the Godswood.

Jaime sighed. 'No, I don't. I just don't like that smug look on your face when you're right and I'm wrong,' he said irritably, coming to a halt so that she could catch up to him.

Brienne rolled her eyes. 'In that case, you must struggle to look at me most days.'

Jaime shook his head as he turned to face her, trying not to smile. 'I miss the time when you didn't have a sense of humour,' he said wistfully. 'Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Lady Brienne.'

'I only learnt from the best,' Brienne said, tilting her head at him.

Jaime chuckled as the two unlikely friends kept on walking down the pleasant garden paths. 'We'll discuss Lady Sansa's predicament in the near future,' he said, albeit reluctantly. 'For now, I must focus on preparations for my nephew's wedding. You'll be attending, I hope?'

Something strange stirred within Brienne at the sound of those last two words, almost like a fluttering sensation in her stomach…a similar fluttering sensation that she'd experienced regularly on the occasions when Renly had praised her for her service.

No. Stop thinking like that, she told herself fiercely, flustered.

'I will,' Brienne replied.

'Good. As annoying as you are, you make for better conversation than most of the soldiers in my command,' Jaime said grumpily.

'You'll be on duty on the day then, I take it?'

'Yes. Perhaps it's for the best…I won't have to sit on the high table with all my family judging me,' Jaime said, his tone sour.

He looked up at the Red Keep looming above them. He would have to go back soon, but he didn't want to. This no longer felt like his home anymore. He didn't feel like he belonged or like he was wanted or loved. As if she could read his thoughts, Brienne tilted her head at him anxiously, her expression unusually soft.

'Are things…not well with your family, Ser Jaime?' she asked quietly.

A flicker of a sad smile appeared on Jaime's face as he looked briefly at her while they walked on. 'Truth to be told, none of them seem to particularly…like me anymore. Except from perhaps Tyrion. They think I'm a changed man since my return,' he said, almost bitterly.

'And do you? Do you think you're a changed man?'

She had stopped walking. Jaime stopped as well as he turned to Brienne. The hope in her eyes made his face falter, ashamed.

'I…I'm a Lannister at heart,' he said resignedly, averting his gaze. 'No one can really change that much.'

'I don't believe that. And you don't either,' Brienne said firmly, taking a step towards him. 'Look, I made no secret of the fact that you repulsed me when we first met-'

'Thank you very much,' Jaime interjected.

'-but you're better now,' Brienne insisted, shocking Jaime to his very core as he read the earnestness in her expression. 'You have both light and dark inside you, as does everyone. I've seen you grow to act more towards the light in the time I've known you.'

Jaime looked down in a daze, unsure of how to respond; Brienne rarely spoke like this. 'I appreciate the sentiment, Lady Brienne, truly. But sometimes the darkness inside can't be avoided,' he said sadly.

A lump in his throat, Jaime looked back up at the castle. Even from this distance, he could make out the long glistening golden curls of his sister, stood on the balcony and drinking a goblet of wine – did she ever do anything else these days? – while she looked out over their son's kingdom. Luckily the cover of the trees would prevent Cersei from seeing the company Jaime currently kept…unless she had some spies following him, hidden in the gardens. Jaime wouldn't put it past her.

Brienne followed Jaime's gaze too but looked away disdainfully when she realised he was watching his sister high up on the tower balcony. Her eyes fell instinctively to the golden hand fastened to his right wrist. Cersei had apparently been so revolted by his stump that she had forced Qyburn to make a golden replacement for him. It made Brienne sad to see Cersei control Jaime like this, to make him ashamed of his scars, but Jaime had lived too long in this abusive relationship to see it for what it really was. Or perhaps he had just accepted it because he was accustomed to such treatment and believed he deserved such unfairness and disdain and toxicity. But Brienne knew that now not to be the case. If only she could just make Jaime see it.

'How are you anyway, my lady?' Jaime then asked tentatively, as he turned his back on the castle and tilted his head at Brienne in concern. 'Really, I mean. Are you…happy here?'

'I…' She would never go that far. 'I'm very appreciative of your hospitality, Ser Jaime. You've been far too generous in letting me stay here.'

Jaime frowned. 'Nonsense.'

Brienne hesitated, not sure how to respond. He gestured a nearby stone bench; they sat down together. They both looked at each other, and Jaime sighed.

'Look…I know this place and the people here make you uncomfortable. I feel better now that you're recovered from your wounds, so…' He trailed off heavily, looking down at his lap, then forced himself to look back up at her. 'If you wish, I can send word to your father and see you returned safely to Tarth.'

Brienne's lips parted. She hadn't been expecting him to say that. She wasn't sure if his words made her feel relieved or hurt.

'That's very kind of you,' she said graciously. 'W-would you like me to go?'

Jaime looked horrified at the mere suggestion. 'That wasn't what I…' But he trailed off again, suddenly rather awkward.

Brienne's eyes widened, bewildered, as she watched him look away agitatedly. She swallowed nervously as a group of people walked past them, oblivious. Struggling to cope with the silence, she looked around at the gardens; they were enchanting, particularly in the glow of the summer sun. Perhaps one day she would be able to appreciate them properly.

'I'm aware I've been a burden…' Brienne began, but Jaime interrupted her at once.

'You haven't. You've been a…mild irritation,' he said, and Brienne tilted her head at him, unimpressed. 'But one I've grown…accustomed to.'

'Yours words have moved me deeply, Ser Jaime.'

Jaime frowned at her, confused, then realised she was being sarcastic; a soft chuckle escaped his mouth. 'You're a confusing woman, you know.'

Brienne felt her cheeks colour slightly. It was the first time he had referred to her as a woman without any hint of irony.

'I would have to think about it,' she said tentatively. 'I don't feel like I could go just yet, not with Lady Sansa here. This isn't her home.'

'Unfortunately it is now, the poor girl,' Jaime said, sighing. 'Although you know I would keep a close eye on her.'

'Do I?' Brienne said, and he raised his eyebrows at her. 'Yes, I suppose I do.'

'So…you shouldn't let any obligation to her hold you here,' Jaime insisted, and he swallowed. 'If it wasn't for Lady Sansa, if it wasn't…for our oath to her mother…would you stay? If I asked you to?'

Brienne gazed at him, stunned by the softness of his tone. She looked into his eyes, trying to search for any hint of mockery, but there was none.

'Why?' Brienne asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Jaime averted his gaze. 'I…feel like the court benefits from your presence here,' he said.

Brienne stared at him.

'Also you're highly fascinating entertainment for everyone at the Red Keep,' he added hastily. 'I don't think they've ever seen a woman like you.'

Brienne's nostrils flared. 'So I should use my ugliness to amuse the lords and ladies of King's Landing,' she said in a low, empty voice. 'What a tempting offer.'

Jaime flushed. 'I didn't mean…' He looked down, ashamed. 'I only meant that you're…remarkably tall.'

'Hmm.'

'And I…I wouldn't want to see you leave just yet,' Jaime admitted, though he couldn't meet her eyes as he said it.

Brienne frowned at him, perplexed. 'What's wrong?' she demanded.

'What?' Jaime said, confused as he looked up at her.

'Why are you acting so…odd?'

'I'm not!' Jaime said at once, embarrassed. 'I just want to make sure you're…doing whatever's best for you, that's all.'

'Exactly!'

He tilted his head at her, a look of disappointment on his face. 'Do you really think me so heartless?' he asked quietly.

Brienne blinked rapidly. 'Well I thought that…after getting settled back into your home life here with your family and your work, you'd-'

'Revert back to my old ways?' Jaime cut over her, and he rose to his feet. 'You disappoint me, Lady Brienne, I'd hoped you'd have a little more faith in me than that.'

Brienne watched him, baffled, as he left the bench and began to walk away. She didn't know what to make of his behaviour. She slowly got up to her feet.

'I think I will stay,' she said, and Jaime halted in his tracks. 'Just for a bit longer. Until I know for sure that Lady Sansa is…in good hands.'

Jaime turned to face her, a hint of a smile on his face. 'I'm glad. Though it'll just be the one hand, in this case,' he said.

Brienne pursed her lips. 'You're not funny.'

'I think I am. Sometimes,' Jaime said, and he smirked as Brienne's lips twitched slightly. 'Anyway, forgive me but…I'd…better get on.'

Brienne nodded. 'It was…nice…to talk to you again,' she said, though she was reluctant to admit it.

'Yes. It was,' Jaime said, and he smiled at her.

Their gaze lingered before Brienne looked away, slightly flustered. 'I'll…see you around court.'

Brienne bowed her head and then walked away down the path back towards Lady Sansa; Jaime watched her go.

'I saw that.'

Jaime turned around, shocked. Tyrion had appeared in the corner of the gardens. How long he had been stood there, Jaime couldn't be sure; he had been too preoccupied.

'I'm sorry?' Jaime asked, bewildered.

'That,' Tyrion said, jerking his head towards Brienne's retreating figure. 'That look between you.'

Jaime looked away, unsure of how his brother's statement made him feel. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'No, I don't expect you would,' Tyrion said with a roll of his eyes, and he walked over to Jaime, his eyes on Brienne as she walked away back towards the cliff. 'So…that's the famous Brienne of Tarth.'

'You mean you've not met her yet?' Jaime said, surprised.

'I haven't had the pleasure yet, no.'

'How?' Jaime said incredulously. 'She's been here for weeks and she's…not exactly hard to miss.'

'Hmm,' Tyrion said, nodding in agreement. ''Brienne the Beauty', I've heard they call her.'

Jaime's nostrils flared as he glared warningly at his brother. 'Don't.'

'Dear brother, if you really think I'd mock someone for their looks, then you really don't know me as well as I thought.'

Jaime sighed and turned away agitatedly. He wished Tyrion would stop looking at him like that, as if he believed he knew exactly what was going on. He knew nothing. No one here knew what he and Brienne had been through together. No one could understand. Jaime barely understood himself.

'So what is your former captor still doing here in the capital?' Tyrion asked curiously, frowning. 'I'd have thought she'd have been shipped off to Tarth by now. Or is she our hostage, now Lady Stark is dead?'

'She's my guest here,' Jaime replied firmly.

Tyrion's lips twitched. 'And how does our charming sister feel about that?'

Jaime looked at him. His silence was answer enough.

Tyrion raised his eyebrows. 'Oh dear. Good luck dealing with that.'

Sighing heavily, Jaime turned away from his brother and looked back towards Brienne. In the distance, he could see that she was leaning once more against the brick wall, looking down the cliff to check on Lady Sansa. He could tell it was frustrating for Brienne not to be allowed to approach the girl she had sworn to protect, but there were spies everywhere, and she couldn't be seen to fraternize with her. At least, not now at any rate.

He hoped that someday Brienne would find peace with herself; she had let guilt over Lady Catelyn's fate plague her ever since she had heard the news. Perhaps she would find solace if Sansa were to take her into her service, if such a thing were possible given the current circumstances. Perhaps then Sansa would indeed be safe and content, and Brienne's sense of purpose therefore fulfilled. Jaime didn't normally pray, but this evening he would pray for them both.

Let them find each other, he thought desperately. Let them help each other. Let them be safe.

Little did Jaime know that once these two extraordinary women did find each other, they would be a force to be reckoned with.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

Brienne had never felt nervous entering Lady Sansa's study before, not once. But today she did. Even the blush-worthy thoughts of Jaime and their night of passion together last night was not enough to distract her. Through her nervous smiles and fluttering tingles of excitement in her stomach, Brienne knew that this meeting was pivotal in deciding her future with Jaime.

She knew what she had to say, should the opportunity present itself for her to broach the subject. After all, she knew her heart. She knew she'd never felt like this before. And she knew now that she didn't care what people would think or say about them. No man was perfect, and she wouldn't change Jaime even if she could. She loved him, just as he was. All she could do now was hope that that would be enough for Sansa to understand.

'My lady, you asked to see me?' Brienne greeted, trying to maintain her usual calm and professional composure as she shut the door behind her.

'Yes – please, do come in, Brienne,' Sansa said politely, rearranging some scrolls on her desk.

'Is this about the meeting later with Queen Daenerys?' Brienne asked. 'I can gather more maps if-'

'No, it's not about that – don't worry, you've done more than enough preparation for that. Besides, I'd like to take my mind off Daenerys Targaryen, even if only for a short while,' Sansa said dryly.

Brienne nodded with a sympathetic smile. 'Then how can I be of help, my lady?'

'Actually…it's of how I might be of help to you,' Sansa said, and Brienne gave her a questioning look. 'I spoke with Ser Jaime earlier today.'

Brienne sank slowly into the seat opposite Sansa, her heart racing. 'Y-you did?'

'Hmm. He's a very interesting man,' Sansa said, watching Brienne carefully.

Brienne hesitated, then felt herself smile. 'He is.'

Sansa tilted her head at her. 'So…how long have you two…?'

'I don't know what you mean,' Brienne said at once, feeling her body tense in horror all over.

'Brienne, please spare me, he was wearing your shirt this morning,' Sansa said impatiently, putting her scrolls away in the drawers of her desk, and Brienne felt herself go red.

'He…I'm not sure how that could have happened…' She trailed off hopelessly, and a silence fell between them.

Sansa raised her eyebrows. 'And I thought you said he would treat you honourably…'

Brienne looked up in alarm but realised from the twitch in Sansa's lips that she was teasing her. Brienne could do nothing but blush. She was mortified, but secretly quite giddy.

'Fine, let's both pretend you and Ser Jaime are merely fellow knights,' Sansa said with a roll of her eyes. 'He has asked if he can remain here.'

'In Winterfell?' Brienne asked in disbelief, unable to keep the hope out of her voice.

'Yes,' Sansa replied, smiling. 'I've said he can, as my honoured guest, but only with your consent.'

Brienne was bewildered. 'My lady, why should I have any say in it?'

'Because you're the reason he wants to stay.'

There was a stunned silence. Brienne could barely believe what Sansa had just said. But then she thought of the way Jaime had gazed at her from across the hall over breakfast this morning, of how he'd kissed her and smiled at her in the secluded corner of the castle corridor, of everything he had said and done last night and this morning. And then suddenly Brienne found that she could believe it after all.

'He really said that?' Brienne murmured.

'He did.'

'I…I won't agree to anything if you're against it, my lady,' Brienne said at once.

'This may come as a surprise to you, but I'm not against it. Ser Jaime seems loyal to you and I trust your judgement so…he can stay with us…wherever the war takes us,' Sansa said firmly, and she smiled. 'If he makes you happy, Brienne, then I'm happy for you, truly.'

'He does, my lady,' Brienne said, her voice shaking with her earnest need to speak out about her joy; she knew there was no point in trying to pretend anymore in front of Sansa. 'More than I thought possible.'

'That makes me so glad,' Sansa said sincerely. 'I was in need of cheering news.'

Brienne's smile disappeared. 'Oh?'

'Don't worry, it's nothing to trouble you with…just some disagreements with my siblings and our…Mother of Dragons, that's all,' Sansa said, her knuckles clenching slightly as she looked down at her desk.

'I hope it resolves,' Brienne said, concerned.

'So do I. No doubt that will become clear in the meeting later today,' Sansa said bracingly.

Brienne recognised the dismissal, and rose to her feet. 'Then, if that'll be all, I'll…let you get on, my lady,' she said, bowing her head and turning back to the door.

'Before you go, Brienne – just so I can inform my handmaiden…will Ser Jaime still be requiring his own chambers?' Sansa asked.

'O-of course, my lady,' Brienne replied, mortified.

Sansa tilted her head at her, a sceptical look on her face. 'Truthfully?'

There was an awkward pause. Jaime's chambers could no doubt be used for someone else's accommodations, Brienne was well aware of that, but to state aloud that Jaime would have no need of them would be as good as displaying the loss of her maidenhood for the whole of Winterfell to see. But then again, war and loss had a way of distinguishing the things that really mattered in this life, and now that Brienne knew what it was like to love and to be loved, she found that she no longer cared about the inconsequential, trivial matters like gossip.

Sansa gave her a reassuring smile. 'I'm not judging, Brienne, you both nearly died in the battle, it's…understandable. And…I quite see the attraction in Ser Jaime,' she said, her lips twitching, and Brienne blushed. 'You mustn't tell anyone I said that, especially not him. Although he looked better clean-shaven as far as I remember.'

'I'm actually quite fond of the beard, my lady,' Brienne said.

She spoke truthfully; Jaime's beard reminded her of his scruffy days on the road in the Riverlands. It brought back the fond memories of their time bonding together on the journey back from Harrenhal to King's Landing.

Sansa and Brienne then looked away from each other, both suddenly flustered by the impropriety of their conversation. They had become extremely good friends, and spoke openly to each other, but never before about matters of this sort.

'Yes, well…that's enough talk of that,' Sansa said hastily. 'Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Though it won't be for long if you two don't learn how to be subtle.'

Brienne smiled back at her. 'Right you are, my lady. Thank you.'

The moment Brienne had left the study and closed the door behind her, Sansa let out a sigh of relief, pleased that she had done the right thing. No matter how much she might pretend otherwise for Brienne's sake, Sansa held no particular warmth for Jaime Lannister. But she was willing to get past her dislike of him so that Brienne, her dear friend and protector, could be happy. That was all that really mattered in these dark times, after all. And Brienne had rarely had a chance to let herself be happy.

Chapter Text

Brienne sat by the hearth in her chambers, fidgeting anxiously as she waited for the knock on the door that she so dearly hoped would come, all the while Tyrion's words from the meeting earlier ringing in her ears.

'Ser Jaime has chosen to remain here, as a guest of the Lady of Winterfell.'

The sound of such a statement had made Brienne's heart soar in triumph. She distinctly remembered the look she had exchanged with Sansa following Tyrion's words; Sansa's knowing smirk, Brienne's embarrassed but pleased smile as her eyes flickered down to the table. She'd also noticed Tyrion briefly raising his eyebrows at Brienne, his lips twitching slightly for merely half a second, before returning to the task at hand of planning the next battle strategy; perhaps he too was aware of the 'secret' understanding between her and his brother. Not that Brienne fully understood it herself.

To both their disappointment, she and Jaime hadn't been able to meet in private throughout the day; Brienne had been kept busy up until the evening, during which they had eaten together in the hall, but once again surrounded in the company of others, and so had been forced to act normal and composed. They had tried not to exchange glances or brush their arms against each other's while they ate with their friends, but this had grown increasingly hard as the evening had trailed on.

By now, however, it was well into the night and most people had retired to bed. And yet still Brienne waited.

'Do I still have permission to return to your chambers tonight?' Jaime had asked this morning, a teasing smirk on his face.

Perhaps he had changed his mind. Perhaps he had thought back on last night and decided it had been a mistake after all. Perhaps he was embarrassed. Perhaps –

But Brienne's reverie was broken as there came a gentle knock at her door. Her breath catching in her throat, Brienne rose to her feet at once.

'Who is it?' she asked in a wavering voice.

'It is I, Tormund Giantsbane, your one true soulmate, here at last to-'

But Brienne had already flung the door open before he could finish. Jaime stood there with an amused smile on his face. Brienne had pursed her lips in disapproval at his joke, but she didn't fool him; her lips were trembling with the effort of trying (and failing) not to smile.

'Took you long enough,' she muttered, yanking him by his collar.

'My apologies,' Jaime said as she pulled him into her room. 'It took me a while to get away from the hall, I didn't want to arouse any suspicion.'

Their lips found each other the moment she'd closed the door behind them, and for a moment they simply kissed tenderly, their arms around each other. When they leaned apart, both of them were smiling, their bodies relaxed. Neither of them emitted any of the fear or awkwardness they had both felt last night.

'I spoke to Lady Sansa,' Brienne said tentatively.

Jaime smiled. 'I see.'

'She told me what you said,' she murmured, and they gazed at each other. 'You really want to stay here?'

'I do,' Jaime replied, touched by how pleasantly stunned she sounded by this very fact.

'But…you said you hate the North,' Brienne reminded him, with a playful frown.

'It's not so bad,' Jaime said, touching his nose to hers as he smiled warmly at her.

Brienne felt lost for words. He was gazing into her eyes like she was the only woman in the world, like she was an angel meant only for him. It was a look that changed everything.

'So…how long are you going to stay with me?' Brienne asked, slightly breathlessly.

'Until you want me to leave,' Jaime said simply, entwining his arms around her waist.

Brienne hesitated. 'And what if I never want you to leave?' she said, rather nervously, but she soon realised from the warm smile that spread on Jaime's face that she had no need to be nervous when she spoke the words.

'Then it looks like I'll be staying for a very, very long time,' Jaime murmured, gazing tenderly at her, and as he brought her lips to his Brienne knew she was home.

When they broke apart, Brienne led him further into the room. Their fingers intertwined easily, fitting perfectly like they had been made only for each other's. It felt so familiar and so right that it almost made Jaime forget that what they were doing wasn't right. Almost.

'But I've been thinking…' Jaime said worriedly, bringing them both to a halt before they reached the bed.

Brienne frowned, trying not to be too concerned. 'That's never a good sign.'

Jaime smiled weakly. 'I don't think we should keep doing…this.'

He indicated the bed beside them. Brienne felt her heart sink in dismay.

'Oh,' she murmured, her fingers falling from his. 'You…didn't enjoy it last night?'

'No, you misunderstand me…last night was…wonderful,' Jaime said, gripping her hand back in his, and they both laughed softly, blushing. 'Truly wonderful…it made me so happy.'

Brienne frowned. 'But you regret it?'

Jaime shook his head, a lump in his throat; he found this much harder to put into words than he'd expected. 'My only regret is that I took the virginity of an unmarried noble lady while…well, intoxicated.'

At this, Brienne yanked her hand from his irritably. '"Took the virginity". Who was it who made the choice to remove my clothes?' she pointed out, and she sighed. 'Do you really think I care about virtue and marriage and all that nonsense?'

'Well…yes?' Jaime said, eyeing her in confusion.

'Well I don't,' Brienne said shortly. 'I would never have let you in here last night if I did. Do you think me less a woman of honour now because I slept with you?'

'Of course I don't,' Jaime said earnestly. 'But I thought…that sort of thing is…important amongst highborn families like ours, and I ruined-'

'No, don't talk like that,' Brienne interrupted, closing her eyes as she took a few steps away from him. 'Don't make last night something negative that I should look back on with shame.'

'That's the last thing I want!' Jaime said, indignant.

'Then what are you trying to achieve with this conversation?' Brienne demanded. 'It happened, Jaime, and I'm glad it did, and I would not have had it any other way.'

'I only meant…' He trailed off and sighed. 'Years ago, I lost my hand to defend your virtue. I told Locke that he shouldn't besmirch your honour…and I did just that last night.'

'That was completely different, and it makes so angry you could even think to compare those two situations. That night with Locke, I was a hostage and I was about to be raped by a group of vicious men,' Brienne said furiously. 'I didn't want to sleep with them. I didn't have feelings for them. I certainly wasn't serious about them.'

There was a slight pause as Jaime realised what Brienne was trying to say.

'But you're serious about me,' he said, trying to keep his voice and expression calm and collected.

'Yes,' Brienne replied fiercely.

She refused to let her embarrassment and shyness win this time. She was no longer afraid to speak her mind. She was no longer afraid of her feelings. And she had Jaime to thank for that.

'And you're not ashamed to be with me? With me…being a Lannister, and…my reputation?' Jaime asked, her brow creased. 'I'm tainted, you know I am, I have nothing to offer you.'

Brienne sighed sympathetically. 'No, Jaime. I'm not ashamed to be with you, because…there's nothing to be ashamed of,' she said earnestly. 'I wish you could see yourself as the person I know you to be. Besides, if anything, I'm the one who should be anxious about that side of things.'

Jaime frowned, confused. 'Whatever do you mean?'

'Well look at me, and look at you. Even without a shave you're like a bloody god, and then there's me, the famous 'Maid of Tarth' or…'Brienne the Beauty' and…' She trailed off as she gestured herself, tall and awkward and battered and bruised underneath her male-suited garb, and she sighed. 'We couldn't be more mismatched if we tried. I'd understand if you were…embarrassed-'

'Look me in the eye and tell me that you truly believe that to be the case,' Jaime said, almost angrily; he hated that she assumed he would still have such a view of her.

'All right, perhaps not completely embarrassed, but still you can't deny what you said when we first met,' Brienne insisted. 'I may be lucky in my strength and my fighting skills, but certainly not in my looks-'

'You're beautiful.'

Brienne pulled a face at him. 'Oh, shut up!' she snapped irritably.

'I mean it. To me, you're beautiful,' Jaime said, his voice quieter, his tone so soft that it calmed down Brienne's breathing as she looked at him in bewilderment. 'Everything about you is beautiful. Your eyes. How blue they are, the way they sparkle. Your lips, how soft they are. The soft curls in your hair. The dent in your chin, the way it moves when you try not to show your feelings. The crease between your eyebrows whenever you get angry with me. Your gentle hands. Your body…how tall you are, your shape, your incredibly long legs…I would go on in more detail but I fear you'd chastise me for being indecent. And your eyes-'

'You already said about my eyes,' Brienne interrupted quietly, but she was smiling.

'Well they're particularly nice eyes.'

Brienne gazed at him, disbelieving. Was this truly the man she had once held captive all those years ago? She barely recognised him.

Smiling, she turned away; she couldn't cope with the intense smoulder of his eyes. 'You don't have to flatter me, Jaime, you already wooed me long ago.'

'Did I?' Jaime said smugly, smiling at her. 'I'd love to know when that was.'

'I'm not sure, if I'm honest,' Brienne said thoughtfully, 'though I think it was most likely the day at the bear pit. Or perhaps…afterwards…when we were on the road back to King's Landing. Although obviously it was much later when I realised it.'

'Ahh. I hoped it might have been when we had that bath in Harrenhal, and you saw me naked,' Jaime said, nearing towards her. 'I know I was certainly impressed by what I saw.'

'Don't make me blush,' Brienne said, backing away from him with a smirk. 'Besides, you shouldn't be entertaining this topic of conversation if you're refusing to share my bed.'

Jaime chuckled; he liked this newfound confidence in her. 'Brienne, I can't tell you how badly I want you right now. But it's not right,' he said hopelessly. 'You're an unmarried woman of noble birth, and we can't keep this up as a secret forever, when Lady Sansa already knows, and Tyrion and Pod have probably figured it out as well. What is it you suggest, that we court and I move into your chambers like it's no big deal and we carry on sleeping together? It would be a scandal. You'd be living in sin. And I'm not…I'm not worthy of you.'

Brienne rolled her eyes. 'Oh, seven hells, I never took you for being so melodramatic. You can calm down, Jaime,' she said exasperatedly. 'It's my life, it's my choice. I know what I want. The question is, do you?'

'You know I do,' Jaime said, his voice tremoring with passion as he closed the distance between them and took her hands in his. 'I just don't understand why you aren't so…concerned about this whole matter. Your honour means a great deal to you.'

Brienne tilted her head at him, and drew her hand up to brush his hair out of his eyes; he closed his eyes at her gentle touch. Then she unclasped the fastens of his golden hand, and took it off, placing it on the table beside them. Jaime wanted to move his stump away from her, but Brienne kept it firmly there with his other hand, entwined with her own hands.

She sighed. 'Yes, my honour does mean a lot to me. But honour and…the concept of virginity…they're two very different things. You're right, perhaps I did care about my virtue, but not that I kept it until I was married, because I accepted long ago that would never happen for me,' she said. 'I just wanted my…my first time to be…with someone I…someone I cared for deeply, who reciprocated my affections, and someone I was…serious about, someone I saw a future with. That was what I wished, and you granted that for me last night.'

Brienne looked down then, mortified. She didn't know what had come over her. She wasn't behaving properly. She wasn't behaving like herself.

'Forgive me,' she said at once. 'I know it's unladylike to speak so openly of such things, but you know I'm no lady.'

'I know no such thing,' Jaime said, his voice burning with pride as he smiled up at her. 'You are a lady in every sense of the word, and I couldn't be more lucky and more proud and more honoured to know you as I do. But still, I can't do this to you…sneaking around, hiding me in your chambers, taking me to your bed like its improper. I won't do it. At least…not until…we get things settled…'

At this, Brienne backed away and sank into her chair, stunned. 'Settled? Between us, you mean?' she said, dazed, and when he didn't respond, her lips parted in shock. 'Ser Jaime…is this a proposal?'

Jaime's heart skipped a beat. 'Gods, do you really think I'd muck it up this badly?' he said, and they both laughed.

'Well I'd bloody well hope not, you were bad enough last night. At first,' she added hastily, to Jaime's relief. 'Jaime, I don't want you to feel trapped or…honour-bound to be true to me just because of last night. I won't consider spending the rest of my days with someone who's only doing it out of duty.'

'Brienne, if that were ever going to be an issue, I would never have come all this way to Winterfell,' Jaime said. 'I'd already made my choice then.'

'You had?' Brienne asked in a whisper, gazing up at him in disbelief from her chair.

Jaime's lips trembled as he smiled at her. 'I had. But…I want to wait until the moment's right, when the war is over. I've never done romantic relationships well. And I want this to be done properly. I want the chance to…make you happy. So will you wait?' he asked, and Brienne felt her eyes threatening to well up slightly.

'You know I will. I'd wait however many days, months, years you'd ask me to,' Brienne said, rising from her chair and closing the distance between them. 'But…to abstain in the meantime? When we're both here, alive and well, after surviving that battle? Is that really what you want? Abstinence?'

Her tone was dry and sceptical, her expression tantalising, her posture commanding. It took all Jaime had in him not to tear off her clothes in that moment.

'It's the right thing to do,' he said calmly.

'The old Jaime wouldn't have cared about what was right,' Brienne pointed out.

'I'm a different person now.'

Brienne raised her eyebrows. 'Well in this case I don't want you to be.'

A smile crept up on Jaime's face, which did nothing to lesson Brienne's surge of desire. 'You're very stubborn, aren't you?' he said, amused.

'Yes, and so are you, unfortunately,' she muttered, turning away from him bitterly, and Jaime couldn't help chuckling.

'I can't believe we're arguing over whether or not we're going to carry on sleeping together,' he said incredulously.

'Neither can I, it's absolutely ridiculous,' Brienne snapped.

'It is!'

'So just take off your clothes!'

'I won't!' Jaime said, laughing at her infuriated expression.

'You're maddening,' Brienne muttered with a roll of her eyes, and Jaime smirked.

'So are you.'

Brienne sighed exasperatedly at him. 'Jaime…haven't these past few days taught you that the simple joys in life are so much more important than old-fashioned values? Yes, we survived a battle, but there's still a war going on, and who knows what will happen or where it will lead us. Tomorrow isn't promised to anyone. Life's too short not to do what we want and be with the people we love,' Brienne said, and Jaime felt his lips part at the word; she flushed but nevertheless found the courage to continue. 'I know that's bold of me to say and you may want to run a mile…but…for the first time since I knew how I felt about you, I finally feel brave enough to speak my mind and I won't stay silent. My reputation as 'the Maid of Tarth' doesn't matter to me. What people think if they see you and I together doesn't matter to me. For me, all that matters is us…and only us. I didn't realise this until the other day, but…I made my choice a long time ago and…Jaime, you are who I want to be with – and I mean in every way, and yes that includes sharing my bed.'

Jaime chuckled. His eyes were welling up.

'And I think that, bizarrely, you feel the same way about me,' Brienne went on, her voice wavering slightly as she tried not to let her nerves get the better of her. 'And I don't want to let anything hold us back from something that I think could make us…very happy. We've been on the edge of this so many times, Jaime…for years we've been playing this silent game of not knowing what we want and how we feel and where life is taking us and whether the world means to keep forcing us together or apart, and…I don't want to waste any more time now we're finally here, when we could spend it together.'

There was a pause as the two of them simply gazed at each other from across the room, stunned. Neither of them had heard her speak for so long, with such eloquence and such passion. It was the longest speech Brienne had made in her entire life. It had cost her everything she'd had to speak those words, but she knew she'd had to say them.

Swallowing slightly, Brienne then took a deep breath. 'That's my view on the matter, anyway. What about yours? Truly?' she asked, holding her head up high as she gazed over at him.

Jaime merely looked back at her with tear-filled eyes, half a smile already spreading on his parted lips. And then he crossed the room in a few short strides, took her in his arms and kissed her. The moment Jaime's lips touched hers, Brienne felt an overwhelming release of sheer joy, as if she had been holding back from true happiness for so long, and now finally she was letting go.

He backed her against the wall as their mouths and bodies collided in an explosion of out-of-control passion and desire, and Brienne began to hurriedly unlace his breeches and tunic. Clinging to each other as Jaime turned her around and moved her towards the bed, he began to undress her while kissing her mouth and neck hungrily.

'Bloody hell, how many laces do you have?' he muttered incredulously as he tried to undo her tunic with his one hand.

'A lot,' Brienne murmured apologetically against his lips.

She tried to help him remove her clothing, but this only resulted in them both toppling onto the bed and struggling to contain their fits of laughter. They felt like they were both flying on the rarity of such a thing; the two of them laughing like this, in each other's arms, trying to take off one another's clothes, but soon the hysterical laughter disappeared and they crushed their lips together once again while shedding their remaining clothes.

Making love this time was easy, and in no way clumsy or tentative or unsure, as if they had been doing this for years, as if it were natural…just like fighting with each other side-by-side on the battlefield. Brienne gripped the furs beneath her as she relished in the feeling of Jaime's lips smiling against her mouth and her skin, trailing a line down her body as they both lost their minds with bliss. Their bodies wrapped around one another, their souls intertwined, and afterwards all they could do was smile as they rested beside each other in blissful harmony, two hearts beating as one. And Jaime knew that tonight, for the first night in years, he would not be plagued by any nightmares of Aerys or Cersei or Locke or his father or any of it, because he was content at long last – content with the thought of how lucky he was to fall asleep in the arms of the woman he loved.

* * *

Castle Black was quite possibly the dreariest, coldest, gloomiest place Brienne had ever set foot in – and that was including Harrenhal. Perhaps it was the glum expressions of the men of the Night's Watch or the bitter freezing temperatures that clouded her judgement, but Brienne didn't feel like they were quite welcome here, regardless of the family connection. The sooner they left, the better.

Over in one corner of the hall, she could see Lady Sansa drinking a bowl of soup with her brother Jon Snow, both of them looking at the other like they could hardly believe they were real, that they were finally reunited as true proud siblings, stronger than ever before. At the other end of the hall, Brienne could see Podrick diligently cleaning both their swords…though that odd red-bearded fellow was near to him, leering over at her from his plate of meat. Disgruntled, Brienne looked down and turned her attention back to the piece of parchment she'd been pouring over for the past hour, possibly even longer.

She swallowed as she read over the words she'd so carefully written.

Dear Jaime,

I hope you are well. I know I ought not to write to you, given the present state of Westeros and the risks involved, but I feel I cannot keep such good news to myself, particularly when it concerns you.

I have found Lady Sansa. She is alive, although I regret to say rather traumatised. She has been through a horrific ordeal courtesy of Roose Bolton's son, Ramsey, and been held hostage at Winterfell. Luckily, however, she was able to escape, and I have pledged my service to her. I also avenged Renly's death while in the North. I know that you more so than anyone will understand how much that means to me.

I wish I could tell you our location and plans, but to do that would risk the safety and welfare of Sansa, and I cannot risk this letter being intercepted by the wrong hands. Please be content with the knowledge that we have sought refuge in a safe place while Sansa recovers. I hope you are also reassured by the fact that your oath to Lady Catelyn remains intact, and I have sworn to keep her safe and remain by her side. This I gladly do in both your name and mine, for our promise to her mother was a joint one.

As I cannot reveal my current location, I do not expect to hear back from you. Instead I must rely on trust and faith that you will receive this letter and be cheered by its contents (even if it is written by your irritating former captor). I confess I have been reminded of you and our time together often through my travels up North, and I pray to the gods that you are well in these troubled times, and that King's Landing has not been treating you and your family too unjustly.

I hope we meet again, for, as much as I hate to admit it, I have missed your company, Jaime.

Yours,

Brienne

Brienne put down her quill, realising too late that she had not written 'Ser' before Jaime. Nevertheless, she sealed the scroll. She then sighed heavily; it was wishful thinking to assume that Jaime would be concerned about her and Sansa's welfare, that he had spent these past couple of years since they had parted wondering where Brienne could be or how she was. But Brienne couldn't help it. It was nice to pretend that he thought of her just as much as she thought of him.

In the initial months that had passed since her reluctant departure from King's Landing, Brienne had remained haunted by the look in Jaime's wet eyes as he'd gazed sorrowfully after her as she'd ridden away from the capital, a visible lump in his throat. Her exasperation with Pod and determination to find Lady Sansa had distracted her from dwelling on this heartbreaking mental image for too long, but no matter how hard she tried she found herself unable to stop casting her mind back to Jaime on a daily basis. Every time she washed, her thoughts would turn, unbidden, to that intimate bathtub in Harrenhal. Even whenever Pod simply helped her into her armour and buckled the decorated sword belt across her hips, she thought of Jaime, as well as whenever she wielded the sword she had named for him.

On closer inspection of the new sword and suit of blue-tinted armour that Jaime had gifted her, Brienne had discovered that Oathkeeper's belt was studded with sun bursts and lion heads, and that each leather square on the chainmail was an embossed sun. Jaime had combined the sigils and colours of both Houses Lannister and Tarth in designing this splendid piece of armour specifically for her. Not only that, the armour was beautifully fitted to go with her shape; a lot more comfortable than the huge, bulky man's armour she had worn whilst she had served Renly. It made her proud, and also rather touched, to wear it every day.

It took a while for Brienne to connect with the squire Jaime had given her, but once they had bonded, Brienne knew that their friendship and loyalty to each other would be irreversible. Podrick was a kind, brave young man devoted to his duty and who never once judged her for the many qualities other men mocked her so maliciously for. He was even there for her in her most vulnerable moments. After they'd first found Sansa, but she'd refused Brienne's protection, Brienne had been left rather dismayed, having felt like she'd failed not just Lady Catelyn, but also Jaime. But Pod had been there for her, to comfort and support her, just as she knew Jaime would have done, and with a little encouragement from him, they'd set back on their way to try again with the unfortunate eldest daughter of the late Lady Catelyn.

And then Brienne had found Sansa again, and this time, Sansa had gladly taken Brienne into her service.

Brienne knew she ought to feel over the moon with joy and triumph right now, even all these weeks later since rescuing Sansa from the clutches of Ramsey Bolton's evil hounds and soldiers, but for some reason she couldn't help feeling a little downcast. She wanted Jaime to be here, to celebrate with her the success of their joint mission. But alas, it was never to be. And he would never even know that she had succeeded.

She knew deep down that she could never send the sealed scroll clutched in her hands. The risk of the letter being seen by someone other than Jaime was far too great. It could put both him and Sansa in grave danger. And Brienne couldn't have that.

'Are you all right, milady?'

Brienne looked up, blinking, to see that Pod was stood hovering by her table. 'Yes, of course,' she replied.

He gave her a tentative smile. 'Oathkeeper's looking particularly majestic, if I say so myself,' he said, handing over the newly-cleaned sword.

Brienne nodded gratefully as she took her beloved sword from him. 'Thank you, Pod. You've done a wonderful job, as always,' she said; Pod smiled and glanced over at Sansa at the other end of the hall, as if hoping she'd heard.

'May I ask what you're doing?' Pod asked curiously.

'I was writing a letter to Ser Jaime Lannister,' Brienne replied, sighing heavily. 'Huge mistake.'

Pod frowned, confused. 'Why so, milady?'

'Because I can't ever send it,' Brienne explained miserably. 'The raven could be shot down by an arrow. Cersei could read it. It would put both Ser Jaime and Lady Sansa in danger.'

'But you knew this before you started writing, milady,' Pod pointed out.

'I know. It was just nice to pretend, even for a short while,' Brienne murmured, a hint of a sad smile flickering momentarily on her face. 'I just wish I could let him know that you and I succeeded. That we found her. Not that he would care, probably.'

'He would care, milady,' Pod said reprovingly. 'It was his quest as much as yours, from what you've told me.'

'I suppose.'

'May I ask how you came to be in the Kingslayer's service, milady?' Pod asked, interested, as he sat down on the bench opposite her.

'Jaime, not Kingslayer. And I was never in his service, I was his captor,' Brienne corrected him. 'Lady Sansa's late mother charged me with releasing him from King Robb's camp and seeing him safely to King's Landing in exchange for Sansa and Arya.'

Pod raised his eyebrows. 'That must have been an interesting journey.'

'Oh, you have no idea,' Brienne said, almost fondly. 'I'll tell you about it someday if you like, when we have more free time.'

'I'd like that very much, milady,' he said, smiling. 'I'm very intrigued to find out how you became friends in King's Landing. Unless…I was wrong about that?'

Brienne's lips parted slightly, her expression faltering. 'No. You weren't wrong,' she murmured eventually, as she held onto the letter in her hands. 'Ser Jaime was my one friend in the capital, and…perhaps I his as well. At the time anyway.'

'Do you think you'll see him again?' Pod asked.

'I'm not sure,' Brienne replied thoughtfully. 'We're fighting on opposite sides of the war now that I'm sworn to Lady Sansa.'

'But he knew that would be the case, once you found Lady Sansa.'

Brienne looked doubtful. 'In truth, I'm not sure if he thought I would ever succeed in finding Lady Sansa.'

'Maybe not,' Pod said, shrugging. 'He just wanted to get you out of the capital.'

Brienne scoffed. 'I'd no doubt become a nuisance.'

'No, milady,' Pod said softly, 'I only meant that…well, he wanted you out of King's Landing to protect you, that's all.'

Brienne gave him a questioning look.

'Well, you must have been important to him. He told me to watch out for you, to guard you with my life if need be,' Pod said, as if he had no idea of the impact his words would have on her.

'Really?' Brienne said, her voice breaking; she cleared her throat, mortified.

'Yes, milady,' Pod promised, and he smiled gently at her. 'I could tell from the way he spoke of you when he recruited me that you meant a great deal to him, if you don't mind me saying so.'

'N-no, I don't mind,' Brienne said quietly, rather stunned.

'Perhaps you'll meet again, under…happier circumstances,' Pod suggested hopefully.

Brienne tilted her head at him, touched. 'I admire your optimism, Pod. I'd like to think you're right,' she said, though she didn't believe for one second that he was.

Speaking of Jaime like this only made Brienne long for his presence even more than usual. She so dearly wished that he were with her. But then again, when didn't she? She thought of him when she was awake and dreamt of him when she was asleep, always praying for his welfare and for a reunion that she knew would never come.

It took her every bit of effort to tell Pod to do what she knew must be done.

'When you can, please dispose of this,' Brienne muttered, looking away as she handed him the sealed scroll across the table.

'Milady, are you sure?' Pod said doubtfully, as he took the letter from her.

'I can't risk sending it, Pod, you know I can't. Burn it,' Brienne said firmly, and with that she rose from the table and left to cross the hall towards Sansa.

Pod watched her go sadly, and with a heavy heart walked over towards the hearth. The fire burned proudly, the flames flickering as if they already sensed the presence of the scroll in Pod's hands. Pod glanced down at the scroll as he held it out, ready to drop it into the flames, the small piece of Brienne's heart, the piece of parchment that had made her smile just for a fraction of a second as she'd written her last sentence. He turned around; Brienne was deep in conversation with Lady Sansa and her brother. Taking a deep breath, Pod then walked away from the fire, pocketing Brienne's letter as he went.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

When Brienne woke, her muscles were sore, her lips numb. Her eyes slowly flickered open to see Jaime's face opposite hers on the pillow, wearing a tender gaze as he smiled at her.

Brienne groaned. 'Please don't tell me you've been looking at me all this time,' she muttered as she stretched under the fur covers; she could only imagine how ghastly she must look while asleep.

'Only for a few minutes,' Jaime said softly, chuckling. 'How did you sleep?'

'Very well, thank you. How about you?'

'Very well,' Jaime replied, and he reached out to stroke her cheek. 'Brienne.'

'Yes?' she murmured.

'I feel the same,' he whispered.

She realised then that he was answering the question she had put to him just before he'd crushed his lips to hers last night. Smiling, Brienne leaned in to kiss him, blissful in the knowledge that she had never felt happier, and henceforth their 'secret' courtship began.

Jaime knew that Lady Sansa had only let him stay here as a glorified hostage should things take a turn for the worst in King's Landing, not to mention that she was happy for Brienne to enjoy a good time while she could, and yet he couldn't help parading around Winterfell with a bounce in his step as the days slowly passed. He had turned over a new leaf and committed to his decision in not giving in to temptation and riding back to the capital; that was something he knew he ought to be proud of in his efforts to try and become a good man, if such a thing were possible. And that wasn't even mentioning his main reason for staying here – Brienne of Tarth, the woman who had saved him in so many different ways, the woman he owed everything to. The woman he loved, and who loved him back.

He could vividly remember that day at the Dragonpit in King's Landing. Just seeing Brienne there, sat under the canopy and glancing uneasily between him and his sister, had made Jaime question every life choice that had led him to that point. And he was overwhelmingly grateful for it. Without Brienne's presence there, he might not have realised the extent to which Cersei had fallen. Without Brienne there, he might never have come to Winterfell to fight for the living alongside her. And then he would never have known what it was like to feel the sheer joy he was experiencing now.

They avoided talking of King's Landing and the battle strategies being discussed for Daenerys' upcoming journey to the capital. They avoided talking of Cersei, having reached an unspoken agreement that it would be best not to mention her name. They both knew that they would have to discuss the issue at some point, but it was a conversation neither of them knew how to begin and things were so good and happy and stable between them now – why risk unsettling that, when Jaime had come so far? His life had led right to Brienne's side and he was determined to never look back. After all, he loved her and he truly wanted this.

It turned out to be surprisingly easy to steer well clear of the rather large elephant in the room; after all, there was much to do to occupy them at Winterfell. The castle needed repairing and cleaning of all broken debris left from the battle, and the traumatised villagers of winter town urgently needed food, firewood and various other supplies replenishing. Jaime assisted Brienne and her men with setting about these tasks, but it was hard for the two of them to focus when they worked around each other, exchanging the briefest of glances and touches while hoping no one saw. Brienne, in particularly, found her concentration wavering constantly throughout the day; her thoughts kept thinking to each night that awaited her, anticipating the smouldering look in Jaime's eyes whenever the door shut behind them, the way he undressed her, the feel of his skin on hers, his fingertips and lips tracing every inch of her body, the loving tender words he murmured in her ear as she fell asleep in his arms.

In merely the space of a few days, she had grown quickly accustomed to the warmth and weight of his presence beside her underneath the cosy fur covers of her bed. No, their bed now. His touch, his gaze, his lips on hers, were all familiar to her now…familiar and exciting and wonderful. And with each night that passed, Brienne began to grow more comfortable with herself…and even more confident with her own prowess.

'It's just like riding a horse, it'll come naturally to you,' Jaime had said encouragingly the other evening, with a wicked grin and teasing glint in his eyes, after which she had told him to piss off before holding him down and straddling him.

Neither of them could quite believe that, after all that had happened, they were finally happy. A few days ago, they had been fighting off a tidal wave of corpses. Now they were free. Now they were together at last. It felt too good to be true. Jaime in particular felt as if he were living someone else's life. He must have done something good, something worthy that stood out amongst all the wicked, miserable deeds of his past, to make him deserve the love of this wonderful woman at his side.

Although they most enjoyed their time when it was spent together in the warmth of their bedchamber, hidden away from the curious eyes of all those residing at Winterfell, Jaime and Brienne did continue to join the company of their friends when they could. They were particularly determined not to leave out Pod, nor to neglect Tyrion in his final days here before he travelled south along with the rest of Daenerys' force. Mealtimes in the great hall were often when they all reconvened as a group, a large number of them sat together on the long table and both Jaime and Brienne feeling like they belonged, like they were wanted and included there. As they all talked and laughed together, Jaime and Brienne would occasionally stop just to smile at one another, both lost in each other's eyes. It didn't matter that they were sat too close to be purely 'just' allies. It didn't matter that smallfolk and soldiers alike judged them to be behaving improperly. None of it mattered anymore. All Brienne cared about was that Jaime was here, right beside her wherever they went in these grounds, and that they were no longer hiding away from something so strong that lay deep between them. They were free from that.

And yet they could never be quite free from the suspicions of those who saw them together.

Ser Davos was helping himself to some food over their breakfast one morning when he noticed Lady Brienne step over to Ser Jaime, as if quite unaware of their inappropriate proximity, to brush off some mud that had dried onto his leather jerkin from their hard work of labouring out in the fields yesterday. He watched as Jaime laughed and caught her hand with his own. Davos's lips parted in shock; they weren't even wearing gloves! Swallowing, Davos looked away from the pair huddled away in the corner and headed back to the table with his plate of food.

'Did you see that?' he said urgently as he joined the others.

'See what?' Tyrion asked, as Varys peered around curiously.

'Lady Bri– sorry, Ser Brienne with your brother,' Davos replied, looking uneasy. 'She just brushed down his jerkin.'

'Seven hells, what are we to make of such a scandal?!' Tyrion said in mock horror.

Raising his eyebrows sceptically, Davos turned his attention instead to his food. Tyrion glanced anxiously over the onion knight's shoulder, and he rolled his eyes at the sight of Jaime and Brienne stood over in the corner of the hall, laughing together and taking their time to gather their food, making no effort to hide the fact that their arms were touching as they did so. Tyrion's lips twitched.

Varys leaned forward to speak in a low voice to Tyrion. 'He has a point, you know. It is a scandal if the implication of such an intimate gesture is indeed true. After all, the Maid of Tarth is not exactly famed for her open-heartedness and displays of physical affection,' he said slyly, glancing pointedly over at Jaime and Brienne.

Tyrion gave him a disapproving look. 'They are close companions, that is all. Friends.'

'Yes, so I see, they're quite inseparable,' Varys said thoughtfully. 'Even at night, and in the early hours of the morning, so I gather.'

'Oh really, Varys,' Tyrion snapped, glancing around anxiously to make sure no one else had heard. 'You have your little birds spying on people here? In Winterfell?'

'I have them everywhere, surely you know that. But this time, as a matter of fact, this fact does not come from my little birds.'

'Then where, dare I ask?' Tyrion said warily.

'Intuition. Basic common sense. My sight. Take your pick,' Varys said coolly.

Tyrion sighed heavily. 'Do you think everyone knows?'

'Well they will soon if they keep on the way they are. Have neither of them ever learnt the art of subtlety?' Varys asked wearily, watching Jaime and Brienne as they made their way towards the table; the constant looking and touching from the past few days had been driving Varys mad.

'Relax, please,' Tyrion said, sighing. 'Until now, my brother has only ever known a secret toxic so-called 'love' that filled him with guilt and that he had to keep behind locked doors all his life, and I strongly suspect Ser Brienne has never experienced any normal romantic relationship before either. They're happy. Why should they hide it? Surely the White Walkers and the war have changed people's opinions on such trivial matters like tradition.'

'Ah, if only that were true,' Varys said wistfully. 'I must say it's refreshing, to have something to preoccupy myself with other than worrying about our Queen.'

Tyrion swallowed as he turned his attention back to his food. 'Let's not discuss that right now,' he said uncomfortably, as Jaime and Brienne sat down on the bench opposite them.

'Good morning,' Jaime greeted cheerfully.

'You seem very…bright this morning,' Tyrion noted, raising his eyebrows at Jaime with a look that clearly said: be careful.

But Jaime barely noticed. 'I've been sleeping well recently, that's all,' he said, smiling. 'Not a sensation I'm familiar with.'

He glanced over at Brienne, wearing the softest smile and most tender gaze that he reserved only for her. Tyrion felt almost choked up to see his brother like this. It was so new and familiar, but a welcome change.

He's so happy, Tyrion realised.

'No. I'm sure there are quite a few sensations you've not been familiar with until recently, Ser Jaime,' Varys then said, making both Jaime and Brienne freeze.

'Anyway,' Tyrion said pointedly, and he called over to Pod sat on Ser Davos's other side. 'Pod, my good man, are you helping Sers Jaime and Brienne in the courtyard today?'

'I am, milord,' Pod replied enthusiastically.

'Very good. Lady Sansa will be most impressed by your efforts,' Tyrion said, trying to sound encouraging. 'The castle's already starting to look as if it were never encountered by dead men.'

Jaime smiled; the mention of the Army of the Dead barely made him shudder with fright anymore. He knew Brienne was still quite traumatised by the memory of the onslaught of corpses attacking them, as she and everyone else under this roof had every right to be, but he'd encouraged her to speak to him about it, and he sensed a small improvement in her since she had obliged. She no longer froze in fear outside in the courtyard or the fields or up on the battlements, anyway. And she took his hand whenever she felt the panic begin to seep in as the vivid mental images of the wights threatened to engulf her.

He glanced down at her hands now resting close to his on the table as she picked up her knife and fork…those gentle hands that had pulled on his hair so passionately last night as he'd pleasured her…

'Sansa did mention how the work you've achieved in the castle grounds would never have been done so quickly without Ser Brienne commanding the force,' Tyrion went on, flashing a grateful smile over at Brienne; he'd been acting particularly nice towards her since his drunken comment about her virginity at the feast a few nights ago. 'I'm sure many here are grateful for your influence, my lady.'

'Yes, well it has been a great privilege to serve under Ser Brienne's command. More so than I imagined,' Jaime said, his lips twitching; he knew that would infuriate her.

He spat out some of his drink as Brienne reached out her leg to the side and kicked him roughly under the table.

Tyrion and Varys both stared at him, infuriated, as if to say, 'are you mad?', while Pod and Ser Davos merely looked confused. Jaime swallowed, embarrassed by his recklessness, but as Tyrion tried to change the subject by talking to Pod, Jaime glanced sideways at Brienne and saw that she was pressing her lips together in a failed attempt to stop herself from smiling at his comment. Jaime grinned as he took a sip of his drink and returned to his breakfast, unaware of Varys's watchful eyes on them both; as long as Brienne was smiling, all was right with the world.

Later that day found Jaime, Brienne and Pod working outside in the courtyard together, clearing away fallen masonry as they tried to start restoring the yard to its former state. A few other people were out helping, some of whom nodded their heads respectfully at Jaime as they worked together, others who spat on the ground and stormed away as far as they could, clearly too proud to be seen to be stood close to the notorious Kingslayer. Jaime didn't care; he was too preoccupied telling Brienne all about everything that had happened since he had sent her away from King's Landing to find Sansa. They had spent these past few days catching up on everything they had missed in each other's lives since they had parted ways years ago. Yesterday, in the secluded comforts of their bedchambers, Jaime had told a deeply-saddened Brienne of the deaths of both his remaining children, Tommen and Myrcella, which had led both of them to tears and for Jaime to fall asleep against Brienne's chest, using her shoulder as a pillow as he relaxed in the comfort of her secure, safe arms. Today, Jaime had finally reached the tale of the Battle of the Goldroad. As he'd predicted (and somewhat dreaded), Brienne was absolutely horrified when he told her that he'd charged at Drogon while Daenerys had attacked his army.

'I can't believe you'd be so stupid to try and kill a bloody dragon just like that!' Brienne said, maddened, and she sighed as she put down her shovel and sat down on the nearby stone bench for a break. 'So you owe Bronn your life.'

'I owe Bronn a great deal of money and a castle,' Jaime said, rolling his eyes as he sat down beside her. 'I owe you my life.'

'Me?' Brienne said, raising her eyebrows at him. 'How do you work that out?'

'You told me not to give up after I lost my hand,' Jaime said simply, and Brienne frowned.

'That was years ago-'

'But still, you saved me,' Jaime insisted, and Pod looked up from nearby as he worked, curious to hear what Jaime had to say. 'I was ready for the end. I wanted it to end. I couldn't keep going, I just wanted to die. But you changed that.'

Brienne tilted her head at him sceptically. 'You didn't even like me back then.'

'Yes, I did. Deep down. All right, very deep down,' Jaime admitted, and Brienne chuckled as she bent down to the ground and threw a chunk of snow up at him.

As they fought with the snow and laughed, Jaime couldn't help wishing that he could find some way to make her understand just how much he meant what he'd just said. The moment Locke had chopped off Jaime's sword hand, Jaime had crumbled into nothing more than a million broken pieces, having given up on life and himself. But Brienne had rescued him from his suicidal thoughts. She had brought him back into the world of the living, and he owed everything to her for that. He wondered if that was when he had started loving her, deep down. She had made him better, she had made him care, and she had given him a love to hold onto. He could only hope that he would find the strength to never let go and fall back into the abyss of despair and toxicity that followed him wherever his dreaded sister went.

It was only when Pod cleared his throat pointedly as Jaime and Brienne wrestled in the snow like two lovestruck, playful teenagers that they remembered there were other people present in the courtyard, watching them bewilderedly as they came to a halt, mortified. It was then when Jaime glanced at Brienne and gave her a knowing look.

'Brienne…you know what we talked of last night?' he murmured. 'Do you think…now would be a good time?'

Brienne looked over at Pod then back at Jaime, smiling nervously. 'Only if you're sure you don't mind.'

'Mind? I want him to know. Truly,' he reassured her, and he gave her hand a squeeze.

Nodding at him, Brienne then watched with a smile on her face as Jaime walked over to Pod and asked if they could have a private word. Curious, Pod came over to them and the three found space under some shelter in the corner of the courtyard, away from prying eyes and nosy ears.

Brienne took a deep breath. 'Pod, there's something we'd like you to know,' she began.

'Oh? Is everything all right, milady?' Pod asked urgently.

'It is. It's more than all right,' Brienne replied at once, smiling. 'You see, Ser Jaime and I are…'

She trailed off and looked at Jaime; how could she put it? Did such words exist to describe what they had found with each other?

Jaime smiled back at her, and then turned to Pod. 'We are…together,' he said firmly.

Pod frowned at him; he didn't seem to quite understand. 'Together, milord?'

Jaime gave Brienne a sideways look. 'Involved. Courting,' he clarified.

Pod was still looking at them blankly.

Rolling his eyes, Jaime reached for Brienne's hand and took it, intertwining her fingers with us. Pod stared at their hands for a moment, and then it dawned on him.

'Oh!' Pod said delightfully, his face breaking out into a beam. 'That's wonderful, milady! Milord!'

'We wanted you to know,' Brienne said warmly, touched by his response.

'But it's a secret for now to everyone else, other than Lady Sansa,' Jaime said hastily, but then he grimaced. 'And…quite possibly my brother.'

He shot an apologetic glance at Brienne; he hadn't sought out time with Tyrion alone since the night of the feast to discuss it, but he could tell just from the knowing glint in Tyrion's eyes and teasing twitch of his lips that Tyrion knew exactly what was going on. After all, how could he not, when he had contributed in its fruition?

'Your secret's safe with me,' Pod reassured them, and he smiled joyfully at the two knights he looked up to the most. 'I really am so very happy for you both.'

Jaime clapped him on the shoulder and exchanged a warm smile with Brienne before she embraced her squire with the fiercest hug yet. Pod's opinion on her relationship with Jaime mattered to Brienne more than anyone else's, even Sansa's; to have his approval meant everything to her, and just as much to Jaime. Jaime had been secretly worried that Pod would cast him aside, that his protective instincts would set in and he would tell him to leave Brienne alone and stay away; after all, he cared for Brienne very much – she was practically both his mother and his trainer. But for some inexplicable reason Pod seemed to have accepted Jaime for who he was, and seemed even fond of him ever since their deep conversations after the battle. Already, Brienne's influence was turning Jaime more into a better man in the eyes of people like Pod.

As Pod continued to beam up at Jaime and shake his hand in congratulations for winning the heart and affection of such an admirable, wonderful woman, Jaime found himself reassured that the shadows of his dark past would continue to fade over time with Brienne here remaining beside him. And one day the only memories that would consume him in his dreams would be those of happier times, of him and Tyrion playing together as young children, of his triumphs at tourneys, of his journey from Harrenhal to King's Landing with Brienne, of their time together spent at the capital, of that one blissful moment of truth with Myrcella. And he was sure of this because, suddenly, his life didn't seem such a waste to him now. The world didn't seem as cruel and ghastly, nor did the people. And it was all because of Brienne of Tarth.

Chapter Text

Back when Brienne had briefly lived in the Red Keep as Jaime's guest, Jaime had been somewhat embarrassed to admit even just to himself, let alone anyone else, that he had begun to harbour romantic feelings towards his former captor. But now he would gladly shout it from the rooftops, if only it wouldn't damage Brienne's reputation (even though she kept insisting to him that she didn't care about that). At least he could open up about the matters of his heart to the one other person he loved dearly in this world. After all, he no longer wanted his secret love to remain secret anymore, not to the people who mattered.

Tyrion sat beside him inside the local inn situated in the heart of winter town, not too far away from the castle grounds. The inn was eerily quiet inside; most men who had survived the battle last week had spent every night in the company of their families since the Army of the Dead had come to Winterfell. Indeed, after the Lannister brothers had entered, the chilly inn soon deserted so that only the two of them remained to drink the innkeeper's ale. It was the night before Tyrion was due to leave for Dragonstone to plan the remainder of 'the last war', as Daenerys Targaryen apparently called it, and Jaime was keen to spend a few hours alone with his brother. After all, they would be parted for a considerable time and who knew when – or even if – they would see each other again?

They talked and bantered for a while over inconsequential things while they drank, reminiscing about the past and trying their best to avoid mentioning their sister or the fate that awaited her in the inevitable battle that would ensue in King's Landing sooner or later. After a short while, Jaime found the right opportunity to say what he had been bursting to say to his brother for many days now.

He took a deep breath. 'I have some news,' he began, even though he knew that this was in no way news to Tyrion.

Sure enough, Tyrion retorted, 'Oh, you mean news beside the fact that you and the only female knight in the Seven Kingdoms are now sleeping together in a long-term capacity?'

Jaime smiled dryly. 'I'd prefer the term 'courting', it's…more respectful.'

'My apologies,' Tyrion said with a smirk, tipping his tankard in Jaime's direction.

'How long have you known?' Jaime asked, curious.

'Since the day after the feast. You really think Varys and myself haven't noticed the pair of you sneaking off together around the castle? Or your sudden inability to keep your hands off each other? Or the fact that both of you are beaming like utter morons? It's almost as if you're both still drunk after the feast last week,' Tyrion said, rolling his eyes. 'And that's without poor Pod's reports of the noises coming from Ser Brienne's bedchambers every night. Or are they your joint chambers now? Apparently your quarters haven't been occupied at all since the day after the battle. Seems like you've certainly both enjoyed making up for lost time with each other, at any rate-'

'Oh, all right,' Jaime interrupted, his eyes widening in embarrassment as he felt his cheeks colour slightly. 'No need to go on about it.'

'You were the one who brought it up!' Tyrion pointed out.

'I only wanted to speak with my brother in a mature manner about…a rare turn of good fortune in my life,' Jaime said, and he sighed. 'I used to think that what Cersei and I had was real. That it was…love. Turns out I was very much mistaken.'

'I did try to tell you. Multiple times. But at least you got out eventually. And you know better now,' Tyrion said encouragingly, and Jaime smiled. 'Who'd have thought Brienne of Tarth would become your paramour?'

Jaime eyed him sternly. 'She's much more than that.'

'Yes,' Tyrion agreed thoughtfully. 'You care for her very much, don't you?'

'I do. Very much,' Jaime replied fondly; when once a few years ago he might have been ashamed or disgusted by this fact, he was now proud. 'I'm happy. I can't tell you how strange it is to feel that way.'

'Well it was clear last week that you had an ulterior motive for staying here in the place you loathe so much. Even with it risking the Starks keeping you here as leverage,' Tyrion said, raising his eyebrows at Jaime and wondering internally whether Brienne of Tarth was really worth it. 'As one of our best warriors, I assume she was asked to join the fight in King's Landing?'

'She was. But she's decided not to go.'

A brief smile of bemusement flickered on Tyrion's face as he gazed up at his brother. 'So she's going to stay here with you?'

Jaime exhaled deeply and nodded with raised eyebrows, as if he too couldn't quite believe it. 'She's sworn to protect the Stark girls, so…'

He glanced at Tyrion then. Clearly Tyrion was already becoming slightly tipsy from tonight's drinking; his expression betrayed the confusion he felt as he nodded thoughtfully, watching Jaime with utter bewilderment.

He might as well have just said, 'Brienne of Tarth? Really?'

Jaime was annoyed; last week, Tyrion had been his biggest supporter in this new venture with Brienne, but ever since he and Brienne had consummated their relationship, Tyrion had appeared somewhat distant regarding the whole thing…pleased for Jaime, of course, but acting if he hadn't truly realised just how serious Jaime was about her until now. And it was clear from the sceptical drunken look in his eyes that he didn't understand it.

Jaime rolled his eyes irritably as he looked away from his brother's scrutinizing gaze. 'Say something snide,' he muttered.

Tyrion tilted his head at him, his lips parted in outrage; he hadn't realised his concern and doubt over the stability of Jaime's mind had been showing. 'I'm happy! I'm happy that you're happy,' he insisted, raising his eyebrows earnestly at Jaime, and a soft smile fell on Jaime's face, truly touched. 'I'm happy that you'll finally have to climb for it.'

Jaime laughed. He'd laughed so much since arriving at Winterfell, more so than he'd done in years. It was still a feeling he was getting used to.

'Do you know how long I've waited to tell tall-person jokes?' Tyrion said, his lips twitching, and Jaime's eyebrows flickered as Tyrion raised his tankard. 'To climbing mountains.'

Jaime clinked his cup against Tyrion's. 'To climbing mountains.'

Once they'd taken a sip of their drinks, Tyrion looked up curiously at Jaime. 'What's she like down there?' he asked without thinking.

'What?!' Jaime said with a frown, appalled; clearly, Tyrion was more drunk than he'd realised. 'That's…not your concern.'

Tyrion was surprised. In the past, Jaime had never flinched at the mention (or even sight) of Tyrion and his whores, nor had either of them ever expressed discomfort at discussing such intimate details. And yet Jaime was making it clear now from the look of disgust on his face as he shook his head at him that Tyrion had crossed a line in asking that question. Of course…Jaime valued Brienne, more so than anyone. All intimate and personal experiences between them were private. It made Tyrion rather humbled, yet also infuriated.

'I haven't been with a woman for years,' Tyrion said, leaning towards his brother. 'Give me a morsel.'

But Jaime merely scoffed. 'You're a dog,' he said dismissively.

'I am the Imp, and I demand to know-'

'I knew you were fucking her.'

Jaime and Tyrion both looked up at the sound of the familiar voice. None other than Ser Bronn of the Blackwater stood in the doorway to the inn, a large threatening crossbow in his hands as he leered over at the pair of bickering brothers.

'A pair of tall, blonde toffs,' Bronn said smugly, as he sauntered over towards them with the crossbow. 'Must be like looking in the mirror.'

It soon became evident that Bronn's interruption was not a friendly reunion; he ended up punching Tyrion in the nose to make it clear that he meant business and didn't have time for their usual banter, and proceeded to inform them that Cersei had offered him Riverrun in exchange for a certain deed to be carried out. Jaime was sceptical, and a little disappointed in his old friend's stupidity. He trusted Cersei with such an offer? Really?

And then he found out that Cersei had sent Bronn up to the North to assassinate both her brothers. She really was a monster.

Thank the gods I managed to escape her clutches when I did, Jaime thought desperately, thinking longingly of the warm fire in his and Brienne's cosy bedchambers and the tall, strong, compassionate woman who awaited his return.

Bronn went on persistently about Cersei's threats and his demands for a castle, right up until Tyrion reluctantly offered him Highgarden and a position as Lord of the Reach, although Jaime barely cared…or so he told himself, anyway. He wished Bronn hadn't mentioned his strong opinion on Cersei's doomed fate in this war, but nevertheless tried to hurry up the rather pointless meeting along as he had somewhere important to be. He hoped that Brienne wouldn't already be asleep when he got back home tonight.

Once he was satisfied that Tyrion would keep his word, Bronn then headed out of the inn and left them to it. The two brothers looked heavily at each other the moment Bronn shut the door behind him. What a pain in the arse that stupid cutthroat had become in their lives.

'So…our sister really sent him to kill us. How charming,' Tyrion said bitterly, wiping away the blood from his nose.

Jaime ignored him. 'How's your nose?' he asked, his sympathetic tone half-mocking half-genuine.

'Never mind that,' Tyrion muttered, frowning at Jaime in concern. 'You'd best hope he doesn't report back to Cersei that you're sleeping with someone else. Or you'll know what she'll do.'

'He said himself he'd staying away until the war is done, he won't go back to Cersei without having done the job she set for him. Besides, she won't touch Brienne,' Jaime said dismissively, her nostrils flaring at the mere thought. 'If she sends anyone else up here, they'll be dead long before they have a chance to lay a finger on her.'

'So you're truly serious about her then?' Tyrion said, bewildered, and Jaime frowned at him, perplexed; did he really not understand?

Ever since Tyrion had seen Jaime and Brienne exchange that look in the great hall during Jaime's trial on his first day here in Winterfell, Tyrion had merely assumed that the attraction between them had been built out of pent-up lust and longing. He knew that they had cared for each other for a long time, but this? This was something much more than what Tyrion had anticipated. And after what had just transpired now with Bronn, it made him nervous.

'If you don't mind defying Cersei like this then you must have considered plans for the long-term,' Tyrion said sharply, but Jaime merely looked down, unable to think of a response; he didn't like that Bronn's presence here seemed to have sobered Tyrion up into thinking like this. 'Or are you just living in the moment and enjoying the fun while it lasts?'

'I love her,' was all Jaime could say, trying not to register the lump in his throat.

'Cersei, yes I know, so how exactly do you suppose-?'

'No, Brienne,' Jaime clarified, and Tyrion's eyes widened in shock. 'I love Brienne. Very much.'

'And…does she know that?' Tyrion asked, astonished.

'Know what?'

'That you love her,' Tyrion said slowly.

'She knows,' Jaime said airily.

Tyrion rolled his eyes. 'Have you told her?'

'I don't need to,' Jaime replied, and he smiled fondly. 'Brienne and I have this rare gift where we can speak without words.'

'Still. I think she'd like to hear it. She might be surprised,' Tyrion said, raising his eyebrows.

'I will tell her,' Jaime said earnestly, 'when the moment is right, and when things are…settled…when we know what's happening.'

'In the war, you mean? Don't you think that's tempting fate? And what do you mean by 'settled'?' Tyrion demanded urgently, leaning forward in his chair.

Jaime flushed. 'When all this is over, I…I would like Brienne and I to be together properly. Officially,' he said firmly. 'If she wants the same, of course.'

An inaudible gasp escaped Tyrion's mouth as he gazed in amazement at his brother and realised he was being serious. 'You mean…in matrimony?'

'Obviously I intend to visit Tarth first to ask for her father's blessing. I hope Lord Selwyn will be willing to get to know me first before he gives his answer,' Jaime said, grimacing.

There was a stunned pause. Jaime glanced at Tyrion nervously; he was staring at him if he had never properly seen him before until now. It made Jaime uneasy. He'd thought Tyrion would have been more enthusiastic and supportive of Jaime's long-term plans, particularly after getting so invested in helping make this relationship happen in the first place. But still…the anxious crease on Tyrion's forehead did not bode well.

Jaime sighed. 'Look, I know she's not…conventionally the sort of woman I would have been married off to, had Father had a say in it. I know she's not what my family – or anyone else, for that matter – expected or possibly even wanted for me. But she's who I want to be with, and for as long as she lives in this world, I know I'll never love anyone else-'

'What about Cersei? And the baby?' Tyrion asked sharply.

Jaime froze, his breath catching in his throat. That had been the last thing he'd thought Tyrion would say. He felt like he'd been slapped in the face.

'Why would you bring that up?' he muttered, looking down at the table.

'Because I know you,' Tyrion said earnestly, and he sighed sympathetically. 'Oh, my dear brother, you're so blinded by how good your life is right now that you've forgotten what you always go back to in the end. You're a man bound by honour, even if you and everyone else in Westeros says otherwise, and if a woman you once loved is carrying your child and is in danger from a war she simply cannot win…even if you love someone else now it won't make a difference. You know that deep down! I'm happy you've found Brienne and you're together, truly, but is it fair on her to keep up this mirage? Because I can't see a happy ending in it.'

'Tyrion, you were the one who encouraged it!' Jaime snapped, outraged.

'That was before I realised how deeply you and Brienne felt about each other!' Tyrion said anxiously. 'Think of what it would do to her if-!'

'I'm not having this discussion,' Jaime cut over him firmly.

'Because you're in denial!' Tyrion said loudly. 'You're already doubting.'

'I don't doubt my feelings for Brienne. I want to spend the rest of my life with her,' Jaime said, a hint of desperation in his voice.

'I never said your doubts were anything to do with Brienne,' Tyrion said quietly.

Furious, Jaime rose from his chair. 'I'm leaving,' he spat, glaring down at his brother, and he stormed away from the table to leave the inn.

Tyrion sighed heavily. 'I leave in the morning, Jaime. Will you come to see me off? Or are you so angry with me for facing you with a hard truth that this will be how we part?' he said wearily, forcing Jaime to halt in his tracks before he reached the door. 'I'm only trying to make you look at things realistically. Before you get Brienne's hopes up that you're truly committed-'

'I already am committed,' Jaime said, turning back around to face his brother.

'So I gather. And I believe you, I do. But what happens when Daenerys gives the command for Cersei to be executed, should we win the war?' Tyrion said hopelessly, making Jaime's jaw tighten in fear. 'Because that is what she will do. Will you still be happy then?'

Jaime felt rather nauseous all of a sudden. 'Well you don't seem to have a problem with it,' he pointed out.

Tyrion looked horrified at such a statement as he also rose from his chair and began to walk towards Jaime. 'I have a huge problem with it! But this is war, and I made my choice long ago when I killed our father and severed ties with House Lannister,' he said, and Jaime flinched. 'I chose to be Daenerys' hand, and that choice may well come at the cost of our sister's life.'

There was a silence as they simply stared at each other, breathing deeply as Tyrion's words resonated in their minds. Jaime could feel his reserve threatening to crumble, but he wouldn't let it. Instead he thought of Brienne's face as she rose for the first time as a knight, her chin quivering, her smiling lips trembling, her astonishing blue eyes filled with tears, and he felt the cold dread in his heart disappear instantly.

Swallowing, Jaime stepped towards Tyrion. 'You say you made your choice to support Daenerys. Well I've made my choice to be with Brienne,' he said in a low, firm voice.

'Gods,' Tyrion whispered, looking almost close to tears as he gazed up in wonder at his brother. 'You really do love her, don't you?'

Jaime couldn't help but smile. 'I do. With everything in me.'

'Then I wish you both…all the luck and happiness in the world,' Tyrion said sincerely, and he grasped his brother's good hand. 'You deserve it, truly.'

Jaime frowned. 'I'm not sure about that. But I appreciate the sentiment,' he said, smiling gratefully at his brother. 'What time do you ride out to the harbour?'

'Not long after dawn,' Tyrion replied, looking troubled by the very thought.

'Then I'll see you tomorrow morning. I must get back. Goodnight, Tyrion.'

He had only just shut the door of the inn behind him as he stepped out into the freezing cold night air when he found to his chagrin that Bronn was still there, stood loitering about outside one of the whorehouses across the other side of the dirty road. Bronn raised his head up and strolled over to Jaime at once; clearly, he'd been waiting for him.

'Any particular reason why you're still here in this dismal place?' Jaime asked him, watching suspiciously as Bronn reached him.

'I could ask you the same question,' Bronn replied.

Jaime stared at him for a moment, wondering whether or not to slap him round the face with his golden hand in return for him punching Tyrion for no reason, but then thought better of it. 'Well forgive me, but I have somewhere to be. Spare your false threats for someone else,' he said, turning away.

But Bronn raised his eyebrows. 'If you think they're false, then you really don't know me very well.'

'What do you want?' Jaime demanded, rounding on him. 'Is Highgarden not good enough for you?'

'I'm just curious to know what she's worth.'

Jaime felt a shiver run up his spine as he realised what Bronn meant. He glared at that self-satisfied smirk on Bronn's face, and with a groan stormed up to him and pinned him angrily against the brick wall of the inn.

'Don't you dare go near her! Don't you dare!' he shouted gruffly, shaking him briefly by his collar. 'Seven hells, Bronn, I thought you were my friend.'

'I don't have friends, me. Sorry to disappoint,' Bronn said casually, as Jaime released his hold of him; he brushed down his jerkin, clearly unbothered by Jaime's aggressive behaviour.

'No you're not,' Jaime snarled. 'You're enjoying this.'

'I'm just fascinated, that's all,' Bronn said. 'The Kingslayer almost assassinated, on orders from the woman he's in love with. How did it come to that?'

At this, Jaime couldn't help himself; he raised his golden hand and smacked him roughly across the head with it. Bronn stumbled and yelped out in shock, and Jaime took the opportunity to seize him by his collar again.

'I'm only in love with one woman, Bronn, and make sure that this is understood in that thick skull of yours – her name is Brienne of Tarth,' he said fiercely, 'and she means everything to me. So if you inform Cersei or any of her spies about what you heard between myself and Tyrion, I will kill you myself.'

Bronn raised his eyebrows in mock horror. 'Oooh, the one-handed cunt I trained wants to kill me, I'm so scared.'

'I mean it, Bronn. No harm comes to Brienne,' Jaime growled. 'Once all this is over, I'll pay you whatever money you want to stay silent. No harm comes to Brienne.'

'All right, fine. You have my word,' Bronn said reluctantly, and Jaime released his hold of him.

Bronn straightened himself up, and tilted his head at Jaime bewilderedly. 'Brienne of fucking Tarth, eh? I knew that was going to happen long before you did,' he said smugly, and Jaime rolled his eyes, irritated that he was undoubtedly correct. 'So I was right, that day on the ship coming back from Dorne, remember? You kept crying and moaning, praying for some woman to come wipe away your pathetic tears. 'Course, you were fucking drunk the whole time, so you probably don't remember-'

'Of course I remember,' Jaime interrupted in a low warning voice.

The days following Myrcella's brutal death had been the darkest of his life. He would never be able to forget them, as much as he'd tried. He could remember how he'd yearned for the safety of a woman's touch to comfort him in the grief that tortured him so relentlessly…not of the arms that had regularly pinned him roughly to the walls of various secluded chambers around the Red Keep, but of the gentle yet strong arms that had caught him as he'd collapsed in the bathtub at Harrenhal. Looking back now, Jaime realised that he had known then. He had known deep down who his heart belonged to. He'd just been too afraid to see it at the time.

'It was Brienne you wanted,' Bronn went on, bemused; he sounded like he might burst out laughing, as if he couldn't quite fathom why anyone would choose to be with such an incredible woman. 'Not Cersei. It was always Brienne of fucking Tarth.'

'Yes. And it always will be,' Jaime said, a proud fierceness to his tone, and he pushed past Bronn. 'Now get out of my sight.'

'Off back to the love nest, are you?' Bronn said mockingly.

Jaime turned back to face him. 'As a matter of fact, yes, I am,' he said, giving him the briefest flicker of a smile, and then he turned his back on him and walked away.

As Jaime trudged on up the frozen path back towards the castle, desperate for the reassuring warmth of Brienne's arms around his, he found himself wondering if he would ever see Bronn again once the war was done. He sincerely hoped not. The disloyal idiot's words were still ringing painfully in Jaime's ears.

'I knew your sister was dead the second I saw those dragons…'

Jaime gave an involuntary shiver as he walked on.

* * *

The Lord Commander's private quarters were at the very top of one of the highest towers in the Red Keep. With each step she climbed, Brienne grew more and more tentative about whether this was allowed, whether she was doing the right thing. But still, she felt she must try. She needed to do her bit after all.

The doors to his chambers were already open; a handmaiden was inside, clearing away his leftover food while he sat at the table, his face buried in his hands. Brienne's lips parted as she gazed over at him sympathetically. He'd endured something horrific these past few days. It had clearly taken its toll on him.

She raised her hand and knocked tentatively on the door; the handmaiden looked up in alarm.

'Ser Jaime,' Brienne said, clearing her throat, and Jaime's hands fell from his face as he looked up in surprise; Brienne had never once come up here, or even sought out a meeting with him without any prior secret planning. 'I hope I'm not intruding…-'

Jaime scrambled up to his feet at once. 'Lady Brienne. Please, do come in,' he said at once, moving around the table. 'Forgive me…'

He hurried over to one of the ornate cabinets beside the balcony, where his golden hand rested. He picked it up and began struggling with the straps as he tried hastily to fasten it onto his wrist.

'Y-you don't have to put that on,' Brienne insisted, frowning.

Jaime looked rather stunned, but relieved, as he put the golden hand back down. 'Sorry, force of habit. Cersei doesn't like to see…this,' he said in disgust, eyeing the ugly gnarled stump at the end of his right arm.

'Oh,' Brienne said, and her voice broke slightly.

Jaime then turned to the handmaiden. 'Leave us please,' he said.

The young girl nodded at once and scurried away, shutting the doors behind her. The moment she did, Jaime grimaced, realising his mistake too late.

'Well that won't much help for making the rumours go away,' he muttered, and Brienne's cheeks coloured slightly as she rolled her eyes.

Jaime looked up at Brienne, his lips twitching slightly at his feeble attempt to diffuse what in reality was quite a tense, risky situation. She wore a light blue tunic with a large belt, neat but simple, with the only ornamentation a small embroidery at the top of the chest of the House Tarth sigil. She had forgotten to fasten the top two buttons, and the gash marks of the bear's claws were still prominently visible at the bottom of her neck.

These days at the capital, he often found himself thinking back to that day at the bear pit in Harrenhal. He had been so reckless in his actions. Suddenly all thought of getting back to Cersei, the one thing that he had been focussed on for all those months of captivity, had been thrown out of the window the moment he'd seen Brienne down there facing that bear. He'd acted on instinct, as if she had been a member of his family. Right now, here in the capital feeling more disheartened and alone than ever, he almost wished that she was.

Jaime gave her a stern look. 'This was bloody stupid of you, you know. Were you seen coming up here?' he asked, trying not to appear too worried.

'No, I made sure of it,' Brienne said firmly.

Jaime nodded, reassured. 'Then how may I help?'

'Actually I was wondering if it was I who could help,' Brienne said, stepping further into the room.

Jaime gave her a questioning look.

'I understand this is a difficult time for you. And I know I'm no knight, but…if you need any assistance with your guard, your soldiers…I would like to do what I can, to allow you time to…well, to grieve,' Brienne said, and Jaime's lips parted as he gazed over at her, touched.

She was so very out of place here in the capital. She wasn't sarcastic, ironic, witty, cruel, arrogant or uncaring like everyone else at court. She was simply honest and respectful…and even kind, so it turned out. On the surface, she was so different from Jaime. But in reality, she was just the same, only a better version. A more moral version.

He swallowed. 'My nephew's death was…tragic and…unfortunate,' he murmured, looking away. 'But I must carry on with my duties-'

'Ser Jaime, we both know he was your son,' Brienne interrupted, almost irritably. 'Please don't pretend, not in front of me.'

For a moment, Jaime almost felt like shouting at her for speaking such words. But then he remembered that this wasn't just any ordinary person paying him a visit in the Lord Commander's quarters.

Jaime sighed. 'Forgive me. Sometimes I forget that you know most of my deepest and darkest secrets. Not many do,' he said quietly, and he was taken aback by the unusual softness in her expression; there wasn't a single scowl line in sight, in fact. 'I'm extremely grateful for the offer, my lady, but I…I can't be seen to be in hiding…or in mourning, for too long.'

'Then let me work alongside you,' Brienne suggested, and a small admiring smile fell on Jaime's face as he looked at her. 'I know I can't be a member of the Kingsguard, but…just in some capacity. I want to be useful. I want to do what I can to help. Joffrey's murder was an act of war and these are dangerous times for the capital, the people need protecting-'

'So do you!' Jaime insisted exasperatedly. 'You won't be of any help to the innocents of King's Landing by putting yourself at risk.'

Brienne frowned at him, perplexed. 'I can handle myself, and I'm not a target, I'm a nobody here.'

Jaime stared at her. She really had no idea. She hadn't given her own safety a moments' thought. She didn't know the lengths he had gone to to keep her safe; convincing Loras Tyrell not to have her imprisoned – or even executed – for Renly's death, or asking two of his knights of the Kingsguard to watch over her whenever he himself wasn't present in the Red Keep, for instance. Brienne was so selfless that it made her completely oblivious to her own predicament. Or perhaps she just simply didn't care. The thought made Jaime both awestruck and sad.

He tilted his head at her. 'You were in the service of Lady Catelyn Stark, and everyone here knows you still would be if my father hadn't seen fit to orchestrate her death. That doesn't make you a nobody, that very much makes you a target,' Jaime said, his voice tremoring with both fear and fury, and he glared at her incredulously. 'How can you be so fucking stupid not to see that?'

There was a pause as the two of them simply stared at each other. Brienne was rather taken aback by his attitude and tone. He hadn't spoken to her like that in quite some time now, and it left her rather stung to hear him address her in such a way once more.

She put her hands behind her back and swallowed as she looked down at the floor. 'Have I done something to offend you, Ser Jaime?' she asked quietly.

'If being yourself doesn't count, then no,' Jaime muttered, looking away, ashamed of himself.

'I know it's not your intention to make me feel like a spare part. And I know you don't mean to hurt me either, as much as you pretend otherwise,' Brienne said calmly, and Jaime looked up at her, his lips parting to interrupt but then closing again just as quickly. 'But surely you know me well enough by now to know that I have the skills you need and that I have to have a purpose. I have to do something. Why won't you give me that opportunity?'

Jaime sighed, his hand twitching against his trousers agitatedly. 'You're even more stupid than I thought if you don't know the reason.'

'If you call me 'stupid' one more time, I'll personally-'

'You know I don't mean it,' Jaime interrupted with a twitch of his lips, amused by the flare of her nostrils.

'I know nothing of the sort,' Brienne said shortly.

Another pause fell between them as she waited for him to respond. Jaime ran a hand through his hair, agitated. He did wish she wouldn't put him on the spot like this. He didn't like being forced to confront the truth of his own feelings and thoughts.

'I can't risk it,' he said eventually. 'My father and sister…they don't trust you, they wouldn't allow you to fraternize with our troops like that. It's too dangerous.'

Brienne raised her eyebrows sceptically at him. 'You think I'm scared of your father and sister?'

'I'm more scared of them than anyone else in this world.'

Jaime regretted the words the moment he'd spoken them, but it was too late to turn back. It was a fact he had realised not long after his return to King's Landing, a fact he had long repressed for many years. It was terrifying to say it aloud, to make it more real, but he found himself inexplicably glad that it was Brienne who had heard him. He chanced a glance up at her; her lips had parted in shock.

'I see,' she murmured.

'Besides…I'd much rather you spent your time helping continue the search for Lady Sansa,' Jaime said, trying to steer the conversation away from his family.

'I've already helped search the capital with the City Watch, she's nowhere to be found,' Brienne said anxiously. 'And if she is…she'll be in more danger than she was before. She's a suspect in Joffrey's murder.'

'I know. And I know my sister believes that, but I don't. We have to protect her,' Jaime said determinedly.

'We?' Brienne said, her tone hopeful; would he really let them be seen as a united front together?

'Yes,' Jaime promised. 'However we can.'

He'd had a lot of time to ponder this matter over the past few days, in his efforts to distract himself from the pain that had hit him over Joffrey's bloody demise. If anything, the horrendous aftermath of Joffrey's murder had taught him that it was of the utmost importance that he upheld his oath to Lady Catelyn, even if it meant betraying his own family. Yes, he now depended on acting as the man he used to be here in King's Landing, but still…Jaime sensed a change within him. Brienne had helped him realise that good could come from bad. And he knew he wasn't the only one who saw it.

'Allow me some time to think on it,' Jaime said. 'I'll try and devise a plan for what we can do for the poor girl.'

'Even if it goes against your sister's wishes?' Brienne said doubtfully.

'My sister…she's a hateful woman,' Jaime said darkly, avoiding Brienne's eye contact. 'It's best we leave her out of this.'

'She doesn't like me,' Brienne found herself saying.

'No,' Jaime agreed, and he found himself chuckling. 'I won't pretend to you that she does. She can be very…jealous and insecure.'

Brienne frowned at him as if he were mad. 'What does Cersei Lannister have to be jealous about?'

'You intimidate her, isn't it obvious?' Jaime said bemusedly. 'You're the only woman besides her I've ever been close to. She's aware we spent a lot of time in close confinement together. And she's aware of the friendship we've formed; she's not blind, after all.'

There was a stunned pause.

'I'm your friend?' Brienne said in a quiet voice.

Jaime tilted his head at her incredulously. 'Well of course you are, you idiot,' he said in exasperation, a fond tone to his voice.

There was another silence as Brienne simply stared at him, lost for words. She didn't know what to think. All this time, they'd simply been pretending that circumstances forced them to act as if they got on with each other, but now he'd expressed that the affection he showed was genuine and not pretend. It shook Brienne deeply. She'd never had anyone outside her family remotely care for her or see her as a friend. Aside from perhaps Renly…but no, maybe not even then.

'In case you were wondering, now would be your cue to return the compliment,' Jaime said slyly, moving over towards the divan at the foot of his bed and sinking down onto it; he gestured the space beside him, offering her a seat.

'Please don't embarrass me, you know I'm not socially apt in these situations,' Brienne said, walking over to join him.

Jaime raised his eyebrows at her in amusement. 'I certainly do.'

There was a silence as Brienne sat down beside him on the divan. She could tell he was trying hard – too hard, in fact – to keep the mood light, to inject humour into the conversation…anything to avoid facing the devastating truth of the tragedy that had struck his family this week. She wished he could know that she wanted to be there for him, to dry his tears as he had once dried her own after Lady Catelyn's death, to comfort him as he had once comforted her on those lonely nights when they made camp on the way back from Harrenhal. Brienne found herself realising then that she wanted to be there in all ways for Ser Jaime Lannister. She wanted to be his guard, his guide, his friend and possibly even more. She remembered the look on Cersei's face as she'd said those words that had changed everything for Brienne at Joffrey's wedding.

'But you love him.'

The words still haunted her…particularly now that she knew them to be true.

Brienne swallowed as she leaned towards him slightly. 'Ser Jaime, I…I'm so sorry for your loss,' she murmured, her voice unusually gentle.

She slowly reached out and touched his forearm. She didn't even flinch at his stump as her gentle fingers brushed against it, but then again why would she? She had tended to it on most days while they had been held captive. Jaime's eyes felt rather wet all of a sudden at her comforting touch; without thinking, he reached out with his good hand and placed it over hers gratefully.

'Thank you. He was a horrid boy, and…perhaps he deserved the gruesome fate he got, but…he was my blood. And now my brother sits in chains for his murder,' Jaime said heavily, looking down at his lap.

'You don't think he did it.'

Jaime looked at her and smiled. 'We know each other too well. You can read me like an open book,' he said fondly.

For some reason he wanted to intertwine his fingers with hers but he didn't dare.

'I wouldn't say that, Ser Jaime,' Brienne said thoughtfully. 'You're the most complicated man I've ever met.'

Jaime tilted his head at her, a slight smirk in his eyes. 'Have you met many complicated men, Lady Brienne?' he asked playfully.

Brienne couldn't help reciprocating the slight twitch of his lips as she gazed back at him, only then both their smiles slowly faltered as they realised that their hands were still touching. Were they flirting with each other? The prospect alarmed Jaime, and yet there was no doubt about it as he recalled his teasing tone and the way his eyes bored into hers now, at the way his hand seemed incapable of moving away from hers and his body unwilling to lean away in the opposite direction.

Suddenly, as the tense silence continued to simmer between them, he felt like he was no longer in the Lord Commander's quarters, in fact he was no longer in the Red Keep or anywhere near the capital…instead he was in a moonlit campsite situated by a gentle river on the edge of the kingsroad, far away from Harrenhal, and Brienne was there, and she was gazing at him now just as she had done then, and he was lost in the moment, lost in who he was, lost in everything, and all he could see was her…

The doors flung open with a loud bang as they crashed against the walls.

Alarmed, Jaime and Brienne looked up and jumped apart from each other at once as none other than Cersei came bursting into the room, the skirts of her impressive dress and flowing locks of her impeccable hair billowing out behind her. The look on her face suddenly made Jaime more terrified than he had ever been with Locke or Roose Bolton, and he and Brienne immediately leapt to their feet.

'Your Grace,' Brienne greeted politely, but Cersei cut over her.

'Get out,' she snapped, coming to a halt in front of them both.

Brienne flinched; her expression was rather abashed as she glanced around at Jaime. He wasn't sure whether she looked more apologetic, fearful or angry.

'Y-yes, Your Grace, forgive me,' Brienne said after a moments' pause; she turned to Jaime and bowed her head. 'Ser Jaime.'

Jaime bowed his head as well. 'My lady,' he said calmly, trying to reassure her wordlessly with his eyes as she glanced fearfully between him and his sister before retreating.

Cersei's eyes widened in disdain as she watched her brother, but she kept her back turned to Brienne as she strode out of the room and left; she didn't want to face that miserable cow for one more second than she had to. The moment Brienne had shut the doors firmly behind her and headed back down the steps, Jaime turned to glare at his sister. He knew he ought to feel guilty, but for some reason he didn't. Not in the slightest.

'Cersei, that was out of order-'

But he took a step back as Cersei rounded on him. 'I was out of order?! What was she doing in here?' she demanded, livid. 'Your own personal quarters?'

'She was just offering her services to the Kingsguard,' Jaime replied earnestly, alarmed; he had never seen her quite so incensed before.

'As what, a whore?' Cersei said, and she laughed scornfully.

Jaime felt personally hurt by her words. 'Don't speak about her that way,' he said. 'Lady Brienne's dream is to be a knight, and she's a skilled warrior, she was only trying to help.'

'Oh I know what she was trying to do, that great lumbering beast-'

'She's not a beast,' Jaime interrupted quietly, his hand twitching.

Cersei stared at him in amazement. 'Gods, you're actually fond of the wretch, aren't you?' she said, and Jaime's lips opened and closed again as he struggled to form words.

'I-'

'Do you think I'm stupid? It's not just what they all call you both, you know,' Cersei said, smirking cruelly. 'I've heard about your fascinating little journey. Qyburn told me how it was between the two of you when you left Harrenhal. Sleeping side-by-side, acting as each other's nurse. It's ludicrous. It's a complete joke.'

'Oh, so you've recruited him as your spy now, have you?' Jaime said angrily. 'What a surprise.'

'He told me about what happened at the bear pit as well, when I questioned him further. What were you thinking? You could have been killed, why would you risk yourself for her?' she said furiously. 'Have you no shame?'

'She's a good, honourable woman,' Jaime said defensively, without reservation. 'She saved me, numerous times, and brought me back to you.'

'She's made you a soft, whimpering, pathetic fool,' Cersei spat. 'And she doesn't belong here.'

She swept dramatically to the other side of the room towards the flagon of wine and poured a generous measure for herself into a cup. Jaime watched, swallowing nervously, as she tried to calm her breathing and took deep gulps of the drink.

'What did you say to her?' Jaime asked, frowning as he stepped towards his sister. 'At Joffrey's wedding. I assume it was something disrespectful – after all, that's what you do best – but I can't imagine what Lady Brienne could possibly have done or said to upset you-'

'Upset me?' Cersei cut over him, insulted. 'That creature could not upset me. But she said and did enough. I would love to hear all about your cosy adventures the two of you shared together. I'm sure it must be a sweet little tale. Soon they'll be writing songs about 'the lovers' in the Riverlands-'

'Whatever you're insinuating, Cersei,' Jaime interrupted, his voice wavering in fury, 'I can assure you that nothing happened-'

'Your assurances mean nothing to me,' Cersei said dismissively. 'But I do know for a fact that you would never lower yourself to the standard of the likes of her. And you would never betray me. Never. Nevertheless, the next time the ugly cow dares to enter this room, I will make sure she knows her place.'

'Her name is Brienne,' he said in a low voice.

This only seemed to enrage Cersei even more. 'Make sure she never comes near this part of the castle again.'

Jaime looked outraged. 'Or what?' he said challengingly. 'These are my quarters! I can see whomever I like here.'

Quite frankly, he'd much rather Brienne be a frequent visitor here rather than his rage-filled sister.

But Cersei's nostrils flared as she glared at him and shook her head. 'Don't tempt me, Jaime,' she said warningly. 'You know what I can have done to her if I so desire, should you go against my wishes.'

Jaime looked appalled. 'Are you threatening me?' he asked in disbelief.

Cersei merely smiled sweetly at him. 'No, you fool. I'm threatening her.'

Jaime's lips parted as he realised in that moment that it made no difference whether she was threatening him or Brienne. To Jaime, they were one and the same.

His silence seemed to alert Cersei to this fact; she looked scandalised. Astonished, even.

'What happened to you?' she asked, her voice shaking slightly as she took another large sip of wine. 'All that time you were away. What did they do to you?'

Jaime looked away uncomfortably. 'They kept me in chains for over a year. They cut off my hand-'

'Why?'

There was a short silence. Jaime glanced tentatively over at her.

'Why did they cut off your hand?' Cersei asked, as if it were all his fault, as if he repulsed her for letting it happen. 'You still won't say. Not to any of us, even though it's been almost two months since you returned.'

Jaime exhaled deeply. 'I can't talk about it,' he murmured. 'I don't want to relive that, I'm not ready yet-'

'Oh just bloody well tell me, Jaime,' Cersei interrupted irritably, 'since when were you such a coward?'

A lump rose in Jaime's throat as he stared at her, agonised. 'I went through hell this past year trying to get back to you,' he snapped. 'You have no idea what it was like, no one does!'

'Apart from her.' She could never bring herself to say her name.

Jaime nodded, unashamed. 'Yes. Apart from Lady Brienne. It was torture, it was a living nightmare, and yet when I finally come home…you're here, with no sympathy or concern for my wellbeing, but demanding apologies for not managing to get away sooner! So why in seven hells would I talk about what happened to me or my hand to you, when you've shown no remote interest or care for it before?' he demanded.

There was a shocked silence as the two siblings simply stared at each other in alarm. What had happened to them? Jaime had never spoken like that to her before. It shook Cersei deeply.

She shook her head disdainfully at him. 'Whatever they did, whatever happened, it's so much more than your stupid fucking hand. You've changed. I don't even recognise you.'

She spat the words as if she hated him. Perhaps she did now. Jaime wondered if that would even bother him.

'Have you ever once stopped to think that perhaps that's a good thing?' Jaime asked, raising his eyebrows at her. 'That perhaps I don't want to be the man I was before?'

His words almost seemed to scare her. 'You bring shame to our House if you speak like that,' Cersei said firmly.

'Well that's your opinion,' Jaime said, uncaring.

'And Father's.'

Jaime saw the satisfied look on her face as she said it, and realised that she was right, and that she knew what power the mere mention of their father could still have on him. All their life they had done their father's bidding. All their life had been about trying to make him proud, to uphold their family legacy. Nothing had been more important, as their father had so strenuously told them. But now Jaime was beginning to see Tywin Lannister, and his protégé Cersei, for who they really were. And it was in no doubt due to Brienne's influence that he was beginning to question deep down whether House Lannister's ideals were really worth fighting for.

Cersei slammed down her empty cup back on the table. 'I'm warning you, Jaime. That bitch from Tarth needs to stay away from us if she knows what's good for her,' she said, her eyes cold and hard as she frowned over at him. 'She was in Lady Catelyn's service, I highly doubt she'll forget that in a hurry. And we don't want any friends of Lady Catelyn's to be in the capital while the search is ongoing for Sansa. Perhaps your marvellous friend is even helping hide the stupid little bitch. I certainly wouldn't be surprised.'

She'd already reached the door, but in his panic, Jaime rushed to her and held the door firmly shut before she could leave. 'Cersei, please just…just leave Lady Brienne alone,' he said, and the hint of desperation in his voice made Cersei's blood boil. 'She's done nothing wrong.'

'Oh, but she's done everything wrong, Jaime,' Cersei said waspishly, a sneer on her face. 'But you're just too much of a blind fool to see it.'

And with that she swept from the chamber, slamming the door behind her.

Jaime's knees almost felt like they would buckle the moment she'd gone, but he managed to keep himself upright as he walked unsteadily back to the divan, which he sank onto heavily. He subconsciously reached out to the place on his right forearm where his and Brienne's hands had touched. He thought of those bright blue eyes gazing into his. He thought of the way she'd looked at him in amazement when he'd called her his friend. He thought of the way only last week she'd implored him to maintain his oath to Lady Catelyn and to protect her daughters, who were now both missing.

Jaime exhaled shakily. It was only a matter of time before Cersei would start pointing the finger at everyone she hated, to join Tyrion in the dungeons. And Brienne would be right up at the top of her list.

She was the best part of him. She was his shining symbol of hope and freedom and goodness. He couldn't bear to be without her.

But you must bear it, Jaime told himself firmly. Or she'll never be safe here.

He had no choice. He had to send her away.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

When Jaime pushed open their door, he was relieved to find that Brienne was still awake; she was wrapped in her bathrobe, sat by the fire and reading a book. She looked up in pleasant surprise as he entered, and rose to her feet.

'You're back earlier than I thought,' she said, walking towards him. 'How was Tyrion-?'

Before she could finish, his mouth was on hers, his arms wrapped around her waist. She kissed him back softly, her lips smiling against his, and when she broke apart from him, Jaime moved the loose strands of her curly hair away so that he could gaze at every part of her face, as if he wanted to take in every last detail. The look of adoration in his eyes was so bewitching that Brienne found herself chuckling softly in bewilderment, wondering how she'd gotten so lucky to meet this man, let alone love him.

'What was that for?' she asked bewilderedly.

'Nothing, I just…I'm glad to see you, that's all,' Jaime murmured, touching his forehead briefly to hers.

She raised her eyebrows at him. 'It's only been a few hours.'

'I know, but…we've wasted enough time these past few years,' Jaime said, glancing at the fire in the hearth.

'I don't think it was a waste, any of it. It led us to where we are now,' Brienne said, tilting his chin towards her.

Jaime couldn't help smirking sceptically at her. 'You really believe it's what the gods intended? That fate was on our side? It was all 'meant to be'?' he said teasingly.

Brienne rolled her eyes at him. 'I know you don't believe in all that. And that's fine. I'm not sure I do either. But I think I believe in something.'

'So do I,' Jaime said amiably, and she gave him a questioning look. 'I believe in you.'

There was a silence as Brienne simply stared at him, a distasteful frown on her face.

Jaime grimaced. 'Was that too much?'

At that, Brienne burst out laughing. He still wasn't used to the sight or sound of seeing her laugh like that so regularly. So joyfully. It made him kiss her straight away. When they eventually broke apart, Jaime pressed his lips together and he looked down as he removed his arms from around her waist. Brienne tilted her head at him.

'What is it?' she asked quietly. 'Something's wrong.'

'Nothing's wrong,' he muttered, but Brienne took hold of his hand, her brow creased in concern.

'Jaime. Talk to me.'

He sighed heavily. 'I was just…thinking about that day I realised I had to send you away from King's Landing. It was when you came to my quarters, do you remember?'

'I remember,' Brienne said warily; she would never forget the piercing look in Cersei's eyes or hard set of her jaw as she'd stormed in and seen her sat beside Jaime on his divan.

'I…I don't want that to happen ever again, do you hear me?' Jaime said fiercely, taking hold of Brienne's arms. 'I don't want us to ever be parted.'

He was telling it to the irritating voice in his head as much as he was telling her.

Brienne smiled lovingly at him as she stroked his cheek. 'We won't be,' she whispered.

She leaned in to kiss him and closed her eyes as their lips met; she didn't see the single tear trickle down Jaime's cheek as he kissed her back, his hand slowly sliding beneath her robe and along the bare skin of her waist. Brienne let the robe slip from her shoulders easily as she led him to their bed, and for a while, all Jaime's woes and troubles were forgotten.

To any outsider they were simply a pair of lovers, beautifully entwined and wondrously in love and consumed by each other – there were no complications, no guilty consciences, no bad implications, no impending doom. It almost felt like this could be true, as they made love that night. Perhaps it was why Jaime didn't want to break away; he just wanted their embrace to last forever, because the moment they stopped, it would break their magical bubble and the true nature of his precariously-worse situation would once more come to light.

Brienne fell asleep not long afterwards, her head resting against Jaime's shoulder, but no matter how hard he tried, Jaime seemed unable to lose consciousness. He couldn't stop thinking about Bronn. He felt like he had been drunk for the past week, and Bronn had sobered him up to the harsh reality of Jaime's world that he had allowed himself to almost completely forget about. Cersei had sent Bronn to kill Jaime because he had walked away from her. Jaime dreaded to think what she would do if she ever somehow found out about his current living arrangements and relationship with Brienne. For as long as they were together, Brienne would never be safe. Jaime almost felt like crying; when he'd ridden away from King's Landing, he'd felt so gleeful, so triumphant, so free. But of course he would never be free. Cersei would never stop until she put an end to it. All of it. They would never be rid of her. She would continue to haunt their nightmares and every waking moment of every day. Because that was just who she was.

Jaime held Brienne to him tightly as she slept, squeezing her in his arms as if desperately needing the reassurance that she was real, that she was still here with him. He knew it couldn't last forever. He knew that there was an inevitable darkness awaiting him at the end of this path, a darkness he wouldn't be able to avoid for much longer. And yet he didn't have the strength to let Brienne go. He just couldn't do it. He loved her.

When he woke the next morning, there were deep shadows under his eyes that he knew would remain permanently from now on until the war was resolved either way. But still, he managed to smile at the sight of Brienne's sleeping figure and the messy state of her hair, and when she woke up and climbed on top of him, planting kisses all along his face and neck and chest, he did not resist.

All too soon, it was time to head out into the courtyard to bid farewell to the forces heading south. Jaime was nervous to say goodbye to his brother. Ever since the day he had arrived here in Winterfell, Tyrion had been his confidant, his support, the person he could talk to about anything. Without Tyrion being there to speak words of logic and reassurance and encouragement in his ear, how would Jaime manage to hold on?

'Are you ready?' Brienne asked, as she put on her fur cloak.

Jaime sighed and rose to his feet. 'As ready as I'll ever be.'

She took his hand and squeezed it; she kept her fingers intertwined with his until they came to the bottom of the castle steps, where other people were present in the corridor just outside the great hall. They headed outside to the courtyard, saddened to see their group of friends departing. Tyrion was stood near Pod, and he looked troubled.

'Are you all set?' Jaime asked bracingly.

'Just about,' Tyrion replied distractedly; he seemed preoccupied and was staring wide-eyed over at Jon Snow at the far end of the courtyard.

'Tyrion, do you know where Lady Sansa is?' Brienne asked curiously, looking around for her.

'Err…she was…she's up on the battlements, I just spoke with her,' Tyrion replied, swallowing.

'Are you all right?' Jaime asked, concerned; his brother looked quite out of sorts.

'I'm fine,' Tyrion insisted impatiently, and he turned to gaze up at the new lovebirds with a knowing smirk. 'Now. Behave, you two. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. And look out for one another. These are dark times, after all. As the younger brother, I know my blessing doesn't count but I want you to know-'

But Brienne leaned down so that she was on his eye level and grasped his hand. 'It means the world, Tyrion,' she whispered.

Overcome with emotion, Tyrion smiled at her and squeezed her hand back. When she'd straightened up, he turned to Pod.

'Pod. Take good care of these two, they're rather special to me,' Tyrion said, indicating his brother and Brienne, and Pod grinned.

'Understood, milord.'

Satisfied, Tyrion looked back up at the happy couple. The sight filled him with both envy and overwhelming joy.

'This. This right here,' Tyrion said as he gazed at them both, his tone almost proud. 'This makes me very happy.'

'It makes us very happy too,' Jaime said warmly, exchanging a smile with Brienne.

Tyrion nodded. 'I very much look forward to welcoming you into the family, Ser Brienne,' he said without thinking, and both Jaime and Brienne's hearts skipped a beat as they stared down at him.

'What?' Brienne asked, confused.

'What?' Tyrion said hastily, eyes widening, as he glanced at Jaime apologetically; his older brother was already shooting daggers at him. 'Nothing. I didn't mean…I said nothing.'

Brienne rolled her eyes, trying not to focus on the rapid rate of her heart. 'You do enjoy putting your foot in it, don't you?' she said, amused.

'Apparently that's what I do,' Tyrion said with raised eyebrows, trying to make light of the situation. 'I drink, I know things, and I create awkwardness at every occasion. How will you ever cope without me?'

'I'm sure we'll find a way to struggle on,' Jaime said dryly. 'Come here.'

He leant down to hug his brother. 'You will pay for this,' he whispered in his ear, but Tyrion was relieved to see that he was smiling as he leaned away and straightened up.

Tyrion gave him a knowing look. 'Stay strong, Jaime.'

Jaime's smile faltered; he knew from the look on Tyrion's face that he was thinking of Cersei.

'I will,' Jaime said determinedly.

Brienne glanced curiously at Jaime, but said nothing. Instead she leant down to Tyrion as well; even crouched, Tyrion had difficulty reaching up to take her hand and kiss it.

'Good luck,' she said to Tyrion. 'We'll see you when the war is won.'

'I certainly hope so,' Tyrion said, forcing a smile.

After they had all said their goodbyes, Tyrion then walked away to join Varys in the carriage that awaited them. They soon began to ride off out of the courtyard, and Jaime felt the emptiness and despair he'd started to feel last night seep back into his system as he watched his brother leave.

Brienne glanced at Jaime beside her as they waved. 'What did Tyrion mean, 'stay strong'?'

'Nothing. I'm not sure,' Jaime replied, keeping his eyes fixed on the departing carriage.

Brienne frowned, concerned and unsatisfied with his response, but didn't press the subject.

As the carriage jolted off towards the front gates to the castle, Tyrion looked back through the window one last time at Jaime, Brienne and Pod, the close-knit group of three stood side by side. Brienne had surreptitiously reached for Jaime's hand underneath his cloak. Tyrion smiled fondly as he turned away. The next time he would see Ser Brienne, she might well be his sister-in-law. What a wonderful thought.

'And what about…the other thing he mentioned?' Brienne asked Jaime quietly, as Tyrion's carriage disappeared around the corner.

'What other thing?' Jaime asked innocently, as they slowly turned to walk back inside the castle.

Brienne stared at him, trying not to smile through her pursed lips. It was hard to let the fear and anguish consume him when she was looking at him so adorably like that.

Jaime raised his eyebrows at her. 'I don't know what you're talking about, Brienne, honestly I don't,' he said, chuckling.

Brienne grabbed his arm, infuriated, and they both laughed in protest and struggled against each other's hold as they bumped into one of the castle archways. They only stopped quickly when they noticed that other people in the courtyard were watching them curiously. Jaime and Brienne released their hold of each other at once, flustered. No one watching them seemed to know what to make of it. Those who knew them just found it so unbelievably strange to see them laugh like that, let alone fight and play like silly children. Pod smirked at them both as he walked on past them, wanting to check in with Lady Sansa for an update on the recent supplies that had been delivered into the castle grounds. His lips twitching, Jaime turned away from the onlookers and back to Brienne, his face close to hers.

'All in good time, my lady,' he said tantalisingly, and he planted a kiss so quickly on the tip of her nose that no one near them had chance to see; Brienne smiled back at him in bemusement, her heart racing. 'That's all I have to say to that. All in good time.'

Chapter Text

As the days passed, Jaime and Brienne fell into a steady routine. They would work together around the castle grounds with Pod and the rest of Brienne's force by day, and by night they dined together with their friends before retreating to the secluded comforts of their bedchambers. Every evening, there was food and wine and bickering and laughter, a combination neither of them had been accustomed to until now, and while they healed from the traumas and injuries of the battle, they told each other stories and secrets of their lives that they had not yet revealed, until Jaime and Brienne felt like they knew the other better than themselves.

Brienne had already grown used to sharing her bedchambers with someone else – in fact, with his belongings moved in here and with how quickly he had settled in, she couldn't imagine what it would be like now without Jaime living with her. He always slept on her right side, so that he could touch her with his good hand; he liked to stroke her hair and skin as she fell to sleep. It made Brienne think bemusedly back to the days long ago when they had spent nights in the woods trying to sleep in each other's company, back when his hands had been tied in his manacles and they'd been surrounded by trees, with nothing but incessant bickering and complaining and huffing between them. How things had changed since then.

They both attracted many curious looks – both in the courtyard and fields of the castle grounds while they worked during the day, and in the great hall during every evening meal – while they laughed together and stayed close to each other, stealing longing glances or lingering touches here and there when they thought no one could see. They were practically inseparable, and their proximity and body language only gave further fuel to the rumours that they were romantically involved, although many people at Winterfell didn't believe it – after all, Jaime Lannister with Brienne of Tarth? There had never been a more unlikely pairing.

But Jaime and Brienne didn't remotely care about the gossip and curious eyes that followed them wherever they went. They were too happy to care about something as trivial as other people's opinions.

So this is what love is, they'd both think, but never be brave enough to say aloud.

Their favourite part of the day was just before the sunset, where they had completed their tasks for the day and could escape for an hour or so before dinner. They often took this opportunity to go for walks along the snow-covered hills, hand-in-hand, away from all the staring and judgements. It would just be the two of them and the view of Winterfell, and nothing had ever been more peaceful. Jaime had even grown accustomed to the freezing cold temperatures, something he'd never thought he could get comfortable with. But he had, for Brienne.

'I could get used to this,' Jaime said wistfully one evening, taking in the views of winter town from above and squeezing her hand as they strolled leisurely together across the hilltop.

Brienne smiled at him. 'Would you like to?'

'Possibly. I'm starting to tolerate your presence more, so I think I could cope with living here,' Jaime said, his lips twitching slightly, and Brienne raised her eyebrows at him.

'That's assuming I'd even want you to live within ten miles of me.'

'Well there is that,' Jaime said thoughtfully. 'We'd probably drive each other mad.'

'We probably would,' Brienne agreed.

They stopped walking then and turned to face each other, their fingers still intertwined as, chuckling, their lips met. As Jaime leaned away, he saw that Brienne's eyes and hair were positively glowing from the burnt orange hue of the sky, the rays of the departing sunlight shining directly onto her. It came as no surprise to Jaime that she looked almost ethereal in that moment, and his lips parted as he stared at her in a daze.

Ever since they had met, Brienne had been the light at the end of the long, dark foreboding tunnel that Jaime had long accepted as his only path in life. But she had shown him differently. She had guided him out into the light. So how had she given him any other choice but to love her as strongly as he did? He remembered that perfect day when he had first arrived here at Winterfell to join the battle…the evening by the hearth in the great hall…knighting Brienne, his finest achievement. In that moment, he had been so starstruck, so engrossed in how beautiful Brienne had looked in the firelight and the way she'd looked at him. It was as if the whole world had fallen away around them and they had only been able to see each other. He had been in absolute awe of her radiance and just how much she deserved the title she had long dreamed of receiving.

And now that moment had transformed into something of a daily routine. This was his new life now. And it was wonderful.

The next day found Jaime, Brienne, Pod and a troop of selected men riding out to patrol the grounds; since the threat of the White Walkers had been eradicated, various bandits had tried breaking into Winterfell's walls to steal supplies. Indeed, they came across one particular group of thieves who were trying to carry off one of the boxes of wheat that had been delivered to the castle merely yesterday. Brienne soon dealt with them – Jaime watched with satisfaction and pride as she scared them off with merely a few impressive swings of her sword – before ordering a retreat back to the castle so that they could get the wheat back to the store cupboards and kitchens in the castle.

'Ser Brienne, let me,' one of the soldiers offered at once, as Brienne bent down to pick up the large box of wheat.

Brienne rolled her eyes. 'I'm a big woman, I can manage it.'

'She is one big woman,' Jaime said approvingly.

He meant it positively, but regretted the words at once as Brienne turned to face him, her pursed lips trying not to smile as she glared at him, unimpressed.

'Oh, I'm sorry-'

He broke off, mortified, as Pod whacked him over the head playfully, amused. Jaime pulled a face at him, and then they all set off back towards the castle. He enjoyed the new relationship he had sprung up with Pod since the battle. He hadn't really known the lad before he had come to Winterfell, but he was fun and loyal and devoted to Brienne…and he liked Jaime, which was always a bonus. Indeed, Pod secretly viewed both Jaime and Brienne as his parents, particularly now they spent so much time in each other's company during the day as a group, and Pod wasn't the only one relishing in this newfound family unit. It gave Brienne more joy than she could say just to see Jaime and Pod train together or laugh together. It made her feel truly home at last. And it was nice that there were no secrets between the three of them – well, within reason.

'It must be nice for you two to spend so much time together after so long apart,' Pod said to them both, once they had arrived back at the castle and deposited the box of wheat.

Jaime smiled fondly at Brienne. 'Yes, it's wonderful.'

'I don't enjoy it. I don't like him,' Brienne said bluntly; deadpan sarcasm seemed to have become her new forte recently, which Jaime and Pod loved.

Jaime sighed in mock misery. 'Alas, that is the truth of it. She keeps asking me where Tormund is, but she has to make do with second best, I'm afraid,' he said jokingly.

Pod laughed. 'Who would have thought?' he said, still dazed by the sight of Brienne so alight with humour and joy.

'In all seriousness, I never thought Jaime and I would even become allies, let alone…this,' Brienne said, exchanging an amused glance with Jaime. 'From the day we first met, Jaime was…well, let's just say he wasn't fond of the idea of me escorting him back to King's Landing.'

'That's not true at all,' Jaime protested indignantly. 'I knew it from the moment I saw you that we were destined to be…soulmates.'

Brienne simply burst out into hysterical laughter, making Jaime beam; he loved to make her laugh like that, particularly when it was so rare. Or rather, it used to be so rare.

Pod smirked at Jaime. 'You know, Ser Brienne once told me that some of the best times of her life so far were after you rescued her from Harrenhal and went to King's Landing together-'

'I've subsequently decided that I was incorrect in saying that, Pod, so you might want to shut your mouth now,' Brienne interrupted sharply, giving him a warning look.

'No, no, no, I want to hear this story,' Jaime said eagerly, grinning. 'Go on, Pod. Tell your Uncle Jaime-'

'Uncle Jaime?! Excuse me?' Brienne exclaimed.

Their joint laughter rang out across the open courtyard so loudly that everyone within the castle walls could hear, and their infectious jovial mood could be felt throughout the evening while they all dined together. By the time they had retired to their bedchambers, Jaime and Brienne were too tired to do anything but undress, stoke the fire and slip under the warm fur covers of their bed to go to sleep.

Jaime watched Brienne as she sat on the edge of the bed and drank her daily cup of moon tea from a small cup. She'd been drinking it every evening after supper since the day after the feast, she'd told him reassuringly; the maester had been well supplied, apparently.

'Have you ever wanted children, Brienne?' Jaime asked without thinking.

Brienne almost choked on her drink, but luckily didn't and managed to maintain taking a dignified sip of the moon tea before placing her cup down on the table beside the bed. 'I…I did once,' she murmured thoughtfully. 'But then I…I never married, and…things took a different turn in my life.'

Jaime smiled sympathetically. 'So you just sealed yourself off to that other part of your life?'

'In a way, I suppose,' Brienne replied, tucking herself in under the covers and leaning against his shoulder as he put his arm around her. 'Yes. It was the best way to…cope.'

'And what about now?' Jaime asked tentatively, and he swallowed slightly.

Brienne's bottom lip quivered slightly as a small smile fell on her face. 'I…I'm not sure, I've never really thought…about it…'

'Hmm,' Jaime murmured, pressing his smiling lips to the top of her head as he rubbed her arm, trying to warm her up from the cold night air.

He hadn't really thought about it himself, not until now. But this past week or so, as he'd seen the smallfolk children run and play during their patrols of winter town, Jaime had found himself imagining what his and Brienne's children would be like. No doubt they would be the best, most honourable fighters of Westeros, and tall and blonde. Fierce and strong, like their mother. Loyal to their family, like their father.

A lump rose to Jaime's throat as he thought of his family now – those he had failed, those he had abandoned – and the image of Myrcella's precious innocent face suddenly flooded to view.

Jaime sighed. 'I…I didn't realise how much I wanted to be a father until the day Myrcella died,' he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. 'I just never got the chance.'

He could vividly remember how Myrcella had wrapped her arms around him in that soft embrace and smiled up at him. 'I'm glad,' she had said. In that one blissful moment Jaime had known the joy of fatherhood for the first time in his life. And then it had all shattered just like that.

'You loved your children. And you were there for them, you did everything you could,' Brienne whispered, stroking his bare chest as she comforted him. 'That sounds like you were a father to me.'

Jaime smiled sadly and leant in to kiss her lips. If only that were true, he thought miserably.

When Brienne slept that night, she dreamt of Tarth, of her and Jaime sat on the beaches and watching the astonishing blue waves crash down before them as they cradled the small gurgling bundle that was in fact their very own child. As Brienne rocked the baby gently, its little hands reached out to hold Jaime's finger, and in that moment the clouds parted ways to allow the sun to shine down on all three of them, and everything was perfect. Her heart ached with longing when Brienne woke the next morning as she gazed over at Jaime, the purple shadows under his eyes looking almost like bruises now that seemed permanently etched into his skin.

He isn't sleeping well again, she thought worriedly. But he will soon. And there will be time to talk about children. When the war is over, there'll be time to talk about everything.

But, despite her determination to keep her thoughts positive, Brienne couldn't help noticing that Jaime seemed rather distracted and forlorn this particularly frosty morning as they set out to work in the courtyard. His mind had been elsewhere since he had woken up; she could see it in his eyes that he was far away from here.

Come back to me, Jaime.

Brienne cleared her throat as they walked on to join Pod. 'I'm missing your brother, you know,' she said. 'No one's ever made me laugh more.'

This seemed to catch Jaime's attention; he turned to her sceptically, his eyebrows raised. 'Really? No one?'

Brienne smiled at him. 'No,' she replied, and Jaime grinned; relief washed over Brienne at the sight. He's back.

'You're quite witty, you know, aren't you?' Jaime said, amused.

'Why do you sound so surprised?' Brienne said, sounding almost insulted.

'Because you weren't before. You had absolutely no personality when I first met you,' Jaime replied.

Brienne frowned. 'That's not true.'

'It is!' he insisted. 'You've grown so much as a person, you know, you really have.'

'Oh, stop it.'

'No really, I'm proud of you,' Jaime said teasingly; he did so love to provoke her.

Brienne glared at him warningly. 'Next you're going to say you believe you 'made me'.'

'Well I certainly helped, wouldn't you say?'

Brienne stared at him for a moment, appalled, and Jaime burst out laughing as she withdrew her sword. 'You know, Jaime, you haven't helped, you have done nothing other than agitate me.'

'Speak for yourself!' Jaime said indignantly, and he took out his sword as well.

Brienne smirked back at him as they got in position across the courtyard, Oathkeeper and Widow's Wail held high. She was looking forward to this; she hadn't enjoyed a good sparring session in a long time.

'You asked for this,' Brienne said warningly, smiling.

Jaime wiggled his eyebrows at her. 'Are you sure you dare?'

'Err, what is happening?'

Brienne jerked her head around; Pod had appeared beside them, looking deeply confused.

'We're having a fight,' she replied casually, a slight air of impatience about her. 'Move out of the way.'

Brienne lunged for Jaime the moment Pod had backed into a corner; Jaime clashed his sword against hers instantly, blocking her. She was impressed to see how well he moved, without his sword hand; she hadn't been able to pay much attention to his skills during the battle against the White Walkers, after all. They both laughed as they danced around each other in the middle of the courtyard, unaware of the fascinated crowd beginning to form around them as steel clashed against steel, sparks flying while they swung their swords hard at each other. Jaime was grateful to be distracted like this from his depressing thoughts of Myrcella and Tommen and the unborn baby that lay in Cersei's womb at this very moment; it was fun and almost therapeutic to do what he had loved doing since his youth. He found himself laughing gleefully as Brienne charged at him.

'What?' Brienne panted, confused.

'You roar like a bloody lion whenever you strike,' Jaime said fondly, still chuckling as he tried to control his breathing. 'It's one of the many things I love about you.'

Brienne stared at him. He hadn't used the word 'love' before. He used her hesitation to his advantage and took the opportunity to strike; she cursed him as she stumbled backwards, taken completely off guard. Roaring, Brienne rushed forward to him with her sword aloft; the swords met in the air and clanged against each other, and the two lovers took a moment to grin at each other before resuming their game, lost in nostalgic memories of the last time they had crossed swords…the last time that had been so remarkably different…

* * *

The trickle of the water along the river might have been calming – peaceful, even – if it weren't for the incessant muttering of the exasperated, ragged man stood at its edge. Brienne was beside him staring up at the bridge, deep in thought, but was finding it hard to concentrate. Jaime Lannister was proving much more of a test to her temper than she'd previously anticipated.

'It's a tough decision,' he was saying mockingly, 'take the bridge and risk being seen…or cross the great water-'

'Silence, Kingslayer,' Brienne cut over him, her hand firmly on his shoulder to stop him from trying to move away.

Jaime simply acted as if he hadn't heard her. 'Anyone can see us on the bridge, but cross by water and the current could take us or…I could escape down the river,' he went on, and he glanced around slyly at her.

Brienne raised her eyebrows. 'Good luck,' she said, pulling an unflattering sceptical smile as she continued to survey the bridge from afar.

Her smirk made Jaime smile widely as he turned back to face the river, amused; he was enjoying this. 'It's wonderful to watch you wrestle with these dilemmas. Which will she choose?' he said teasingly.

Brienne rolled her eyes. 'You know, you are without a doubt the most irritating man I have ever had the misfortune to meet.'

'I feel extremely honoured, my lady. Thank you,' Jaime said graciously, bowing his head. 'Allow me to return to the compliment-'

'No, you can shut up,' she snapped, and she grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and marched him on along the riverbed.

Jaime gasped in mock outrage. 'So rude for a lady!'

When he realised that she was taking them towards the bridge, as he'd hoped, Jaime set his mind quickly to work. He had been seeking a chance to attempt his escape for the past couple of days now, and this seemed his best shot – besides, it wasn't likely that she would emerge victorious if Brienne tried to stop him. He would most likely have to kill her if it came to that, which was unfortunate, but necessary. He didn't mean it maliciously, not really; after all, she had said 'good luck' as if it were a challenge, and the smile on her lips had thrilled him. It was an opportunity too good to miss.

Besides, he was fed up of being tied up to a leash like a dog. He was fed up of the manacles digging into his wrists. He was fed up of her caution, her stubbornness, her grumpy mood, her boring conversation. He was fed up of just how slow this was. Without Brienne of Tarth, he'd be able to sneak back to King's Landing at a much quicker rate. And he'd have no miserable, irritating companion that he inexplicably felt an urge to constantly talk to. And he'd still have his pride intact; arriving back to his beloved sister and home having escaped the clutches of his captor had a much better ring to it than being brought through the gates in chains by a woman.

'Up here, my lady? Are you sure?' Jaime asked playfully, as they stepped onto the bridge; he wanted to give her one last chance out of this after all, before he set his (admittedly rather spontaneous) plan in motion.

Brienne stared at him. 'I'm sure, Kingslayer. Walk on,' she said firmly, giving his rope a tug.

Jaime glanced back at her. She was looking rather pasty; her skin and lips were paler than usual, her eyelids heavy, and no wonder – she'd hardly slept ever since Lady Catelyn had released them both from that pen, mainly because she didn't trust Jaime to keep watch at night, and Jaime had already lost count of how many days had passed since then. The poor miserable beast was practically a walking corpse. Jaime might have even been worried for her health and wellbeing, if he weren't so eager to take this opportunity to evade her.

'Gambler at heart,' Jaime said thoughtfully as they began their walk across the bridge. 'Wouldn't have guessed.'

Brienne ignored him as she glanced anxiously around them up and down the river, trying to ensure that they weren't being followed. 'Be quick about it,' she snapped, tugging at his rope yet again as if he were some wild animal in need of control; his nostrils flared irritably.

I need to get out of this.

Once they'd reached the centre of the bridge, Jaime then came to a halt and slumped down to the ground with a heavy groan. 'I need to rest,' he said wearily, his legs sprawled lazily out on the muddy leaf-strewn bridge as he leaned his aching back against the stone wall.

Brienne froze, horrified. 'Get up,' she ordered sharply.

'I have these, you know, on your feet when you walk too far,' Jaime muttered as she paced over to him anxiously, glancing around again to make sure they weren't seen. 'What do you call them?'

'Get up now!' Brienne snapped, her voice growling with anger as she scowled down at him, furious.

Jaime paid no attention to her. 'Corns. I never used to get corns,' he went on.

He was trying to provoke her, Brienne knew that, and she was determined not to give him the satisfaction but still, it was getting increasingly hard not to simply throttle this man – or better still, throw him over the bridge and have done with it.

'Of course I used to ride everywhere, not march around like a common foot soldier wearing the same shit boots for over a year,' Jaime rambled on irritably, and to his relief Brienne then leant down to grab him and hoist him up to his feet. 'This heel is ruined, there's no way-!'

But then he broke off as, with a triumphant groan, he grabbed Brienne's second sword from her sheath with his hand, and ran off to the side. He pivoted to cut himself free from the rope with a single swing of the sword, and his tattered cloak fell to the ground as he turned smugly to face Brienne.

Her jaw jutting out in anger, Brienne pulled out her main sword and held it aloft. This didn't surprise him; she was certainly not one who would be able to let him go without trying to put up as much of a fight as she could manage. Not that he was worried in the slightest. Yes, her skills with a sword were impressive for someone of her gender – he was still reeling from that encounter with the Northmen last week where she had cut all three of them down in less than a minute – but he was Jaime Lannister. She was nothing compared to him.

Jaime smirked as he twirled her sword about in his hands. He'd wanted to surprise her and overpower her. Well he had certainly done just that. Now all he had to do was wound her enough to stop her from following him, and then he could make a run for it. He'd like to avoid killing her if he could; she was only doing her job, after all.

He laughed triumphantly. 'I never understood why some knights felt the need to carry two swords,' he said slyly.

He gasped in wonder at the sword in his hands, savouring the moment of finally being able to carry a weapon after all this time. Even in chains, it still felt glorious. Brienne said nothing, and merely glared at him, watching his every move carefully as she pointed her sword directly at him. She certainly didn't want to mess around, this one.

Very well then, if it's a fight you want, Jaime thought smugly.

He kicked aside his fallen cloak and moved towards her. He couldn't help grinning as he moved around her, testing out her positions. He was very much looking forward to this; he'd been waiting for this moment for far too long. They circled each other almost as if in a waltz, trying out different angles with their swords. Jaime turned his back on her for a moment – after all, he had nothing to fear: he knew he could beat her without a doubt, and he also knew this naïve pitiful excuse of a woman was far too obsessed with the concept of 'honour' to even think of stabbing him in the back – but when he tried to catch her off guard by swivelling back around to face her with his sword, she didn't even flinch and simply adjusted her footing to meet him.

'Ooh!' Jaime said, impressed, as they continued to slowly, cautiously dance around each other. 'You move well…-'

He knew he ought not to compliment her in such circumstances, but she deserved it; she was watching him closely as she waited for Jaime to strike, and adjusted the placement of her feet and sword effectively in order to counter his movements. She was a trained warrior, he could see that. It only made Jaime more eager to get on with it. And so he did.

'-…for a great beast of a woman.'

And then he lurched forwards. Their swords clashed and sprang apart a few times before he stopped to smirk at her.

'You shouldn't grimace before you lunge, it gives away the game,' he advised, before launching at her again.

His air of unbearable arrogance was what encouraged Brienne to fight stronger than she had ever done before. Jaime was surprised; she was coming at him hard with her ferocious slashes and skilled manoeuvres, but he had no doubt that he would be able to defeat her. She was a woman, after all.

And yet steel continued to ring on steel as they went to and fro along the bridge, both of them yelling and growling as they lunged and jabbed with their swords, only managing to clash against each other's weapon but never quite able to reach the other's body. It had turned into a sort of dance almost as they pivoted around each other, diving here and there to avoid each other's strikes.

Jaime grinned breathlessly at her as she stopped and waiting for him to attack, feeling scared but determined. 'Bit of a quandary for you – if you kill me, you fail Lady Stark…but if you don't kill me…I'm going to kill you,' he said, making his decision on the spot – after all, with her fighting him like this, what other choice did he have but to kill her? – and with a groan he lunged forwards again.

Brienne couldn't help but be amazed by Jaime's skills. He was a broken man who had been chained up for over a year with hardly any food or drink, and his hands were still in chains. And yet here he was, relentlessly slashing away at Brienne with the sword he had stolen from her, and coming extremely close to overcoming her. No wonder he was one of the most skilled swordsmen in all of Westeros.

But Brienne knew her own skill and value. And she knew that this man was not quite skilled enough to defeat her.

Jaime found himself alarmed as his sword clanged against hers, and she pushed him and his weapon away with her sheer strength. 'You're good,' he panted, his voice strained as he struggled to keep her sword at bay. 'Graceless…but good.'

This was an understatement, and they both knew it. Brienne wasn't just good; Jaime was astonished to see that she was his equal.

To his astonishment, Brienne somehow then managed to strike his sword away and with a thump she knocked him to the side. He fell against the stone wall of the bridge and glanced around, eyes wide, as Brienne marched towards him, her head and sword held high, her expression burning with fury and determination. He came at her again, but she kicked him away, knocking the wind out of him. They paused as he straightened up, and Jaime stared at her in bemusement.

'See? If you were willing to hurt me, you might have had me there,' he taunted.

Perhaps she had fond feelings for him. Perhaps they both hated each other a little too much. They were both capable of stabbing the other with the point of their sword, they just couldn't bring themselves to do it. And Jaime's chances of being able to go ahead with something he had already been somewhat reluctant to do were decreasing rapidly; his legs were weak and failing him as he stumbled back towards her with his sword.

He charged at her angrily, determined not to let his manacled hands and months of malnourishment hold him back from an outcome he had been so blissfully self-assured about until now. It took a few more clashes of their swords and thumps from Brienne for Jaime to come to the reluctant conclusion that he wasn't going to win this. With every second, Brienne grew more confident, reassured with the knowledge now that Jaime seemed to no longer have the notorious skill of the paramount swordsman he was famed for being. Indeed, he was beginning to tire, and Brienne was only further wearing him down with her kicks and punches and effortless swings of her sword.

She soon had him knocked against the wall again, and they pointed their swords right at each other's faces, Jaime panting heavily as he struggled to keep upright while Brienne simply stared down at him, unimpressed, with an expression that said, 'are you quite finished?'

She's stronger than me. The realisation frightened him.

Forcing himself to straighten up, Jaime then launched himself from the wall at her, determined to see this through. He couldn't give up. He couldn't yield. Not to her. Not when he had been so sure that this plan would work. Not when he'd had it all worked out. This couldn't be where it all went wrong, it couldn't be.

Brienne punched him roughly as he lost his footing; Jaime collapsed to the stone wall again as she smacked her sword down beside him and scraped it against the wall, and then suddenly she was marching at him, forcing him to back away in fright as she met his sword with strike after strike, as if it were nothing. While Jaime only grew weaker and more exhausted, Brienne seemed to grow stronger. It was unbelievable.

He had started this with the full intention and expectation of fighting like the lion that he was, but instead she had broken his resistance and reduced him to a mere lamb in this fight, and now he was on the brink of surrendering. He couldn't win this fight against her. Lady Brienne of Tarth was beating him. So why did a part of him secretly like it?

Brienne yelled out fiercely as she threw him off balance and Jaime's knees gave way. She gave one last dismissive flourish of her sword and Jaime finally slumped to the ground in exhaustion, defeated.

Shocked and mortified, his body weak and aching all over, Jaime struggled to look up at her from the ground to see that her sword was still held aloft, but her eyes were no longer on him; they were on the opposite side of the bridge. His face fell at her expression, realising that this couldn't mean anything good. And then he heard the neigh of horses and clatter of hooves. He jerked his head back in alarm in time to see the group of men ride onto the bridge.

The moment he saw their armour and weapons, Jaime scrambled unsteadily up to his feet, clutching the sword, and instinctively moved to step in front of Brienne so that he could put himself between her and the approaching soldiers.

The man on the white horse at the front – the leader of the group, Jaime supposed – raised his eyebrows mockingly at Jaime as they came to a halt. 'Looks like your woman's getting the better of you,' he said, 'if you can call that a woman.'

Jaime forced a smile. 'We enjoy a good fight. Gets our juices flowing,' he said brightly.

He was trying to keep calm as his mind worked relentlessly on how best he and Brienne could get out of this situation, but he was coming up short. He could practically hear the cogs whirring in Brienne's mind beside him as well as she continued to hold her sword up defensively towards the intruders. But it was hopeless. They had been cornered, good and proper, and Jaime only had himself to blame.

He eyed the sigil on the flag that one of the soldiers was holding up. 'The Flayed Man of House Bolton,' he said distastefully, realising that these were Northern men. 'A bit gruesome for my taste.'

'You sure he's the one?' the leader on the white horse asked.

One of the soldiers then brought forward the old peasant man that Jaime and Brienne had seen earlier this morning in the woods. The man Brienne had refused to kill.

'That's him, all right,' the old man confirmed. 'I saw him fight at the tourney for Ser Willem Frey's wedding.'

Jaime slowly turned back to glare hatefully at Brienne while the soldiers paid the man his silver.

'Innocent, my arse', Jaime had wanted to snarl at her this morning, when she'd led them firmly away from the old man's departing figure.

Brienne's angry scowl had disappeared; she looked almost ashamed. Jaime had been right, after all. She looked back at him helplessly. What could they do now?

Jaime turned back to the soldiers heavily. 'Let us go and my father will pay you whatever you want,' he promised.

'Enough to buy me a new head?' the leader said sceptically, and Jaime gave him a questioning look. 'If the King in the North hears I had the Kingslayer and let him go, he'll be taking it right off. I'd rather he takes yours.'

Jaime sighed in defeat as the soldiers then slowly backed him and Brienne along down the bridge.

'Put the sword down, you fool,' Jaime muttered to Brienne. 'We're outnumbered.'

She did so, albeit reluctantly.

Once they had reached the other side of the bridge, the soldiers found a clearing at the edge of the woods, and came to a stop. The leader of the group introduced himself as Locke whilst his men took Brienne's swords from both of them. Jaime merely sighed; he had only tasted a glimpse of freedom for merely a few minutes, and even then his hands had still been chained…and now he was back to being someone's captive.

Brienne was also extremely disheartened. She couldn't stop thinking about that old man. It seemed, from the furious glare on Jaime's face as he looked at her, that neither could he.

'If you're going to say, 'I told you so', you really needn't bother,' Brienne said to him agitatedly.

'I wasn't. Quite frankly, I don't want to say anything to you anymore,' Jaime spat.

'Well that makes a nice change,' Brienne muttered, surprised by how stung she was by his comment.

They remained in silence while Locke and his men discussed in lowered voices what their plan was for their new captives over the next few days. When they brought out two ropes, one for each of them, the panic then began to set in as Jaime realised that they were not intending to disregard Brienne and simply leave her behind, as he had foolishly hoped.

Jaime feigned a groan. 'Must you really bring her? She's dreadfully boring, trust me,' he said loudly to the soldiers, glancing over at Brienne with a knowing look. 'Just let her go, she's more trouble than she's worth.'

'Oh you'd like that, wouldn't you?' Locke said, raising his eyebrows at Jaime as he looked at them both. 'Let your mistress go so she can go running for help.'

Actually, he wanted him to let Brienne go because he could already tell that these soldiers were not going to be the friendliest when it came to their treatment of women, and he wanted Brienne out of harms' way. But Jaime was not about to admit that to anyone, not to Locke, especially not to Brienne, and not even fully to himself.

'I'm not his mistress,' Brienne said, sounding repulsed by the mere thought.

'Gods, no,' Jaime interjected, also disgusted at the idea.

'Then I'm sure you won't object if we take her armour,' Locke said, smirking at Jaime.

A lump rose in Jaime's throat. 'Why is that necessary?' he asked, as he glanced at Brienne and saw the panic in her eyes.

Jaime didn't know Brienne that well, but he did know that she only ever felt comfortable with her armour on. Even over the past few nights when she'd tried to get some rest, she'd kept it on. She couldn't be without her armour, not a woman like Brienne, not surrounded by men like these.

But Locke merely thumped Jaime hard in the face; Brienne flinched, as if she hadn't done the very same thing during their swordfight merely minutes ago. 'First rule – don't ask questions,' Locke snapped at him.

Jaime looked to Brienne. 'Take it off,' he said in a low voice.

Brienne's nostrils flared. 'I won't-'

'Please. For your own sake,' he muttered urgently, shocking Brienne into silence. 'Take the armour off.'

Hesitating, Brienne then reluctantly began to remove her suit of armour. She was clumsy and unpractised; Jaime wanted to help her, if only to save her the embarrassment of having to strip herself of her main source of protection in front of this group of intimidating laughing men, but his hands were still in manacles. Eventually, Locke lost patience and instructed some of his soldiers to remove it for her. Brienne's expression was empty of all emotion as she stepped out of the suit and watched the soldiers discard her armour and swords in the river. Despite how angry he was at her for letting that old man walk free this morning, Jaime couldn't help feeling an ache of pity for her. That armour and those weapons were all she had, they were the identity she clung onto. Now she had nothing.

Locke then sauntered up to them both. 'Now, this is going to be a fun trip isn't it?' he said, leering at his new captives. 'And even better – we've found you a horse to share.'

Jaime and Brienne turned around to look at each other, full of dread. This was going to be even worse than they'd thought.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

The clash of swords ended on a triumphant note for Brienne as she pinned Jaime down to the ground, a smug smile on her face as she looked down on her opponent. Their faces were so close and his gaze so smouldering, he almost looked like he wanted to devour her there and then.

'Yield,' Jaime muttered with a roll of his eyes.

Suddenly conscious that she was straddling him in front of a huge crowd of onlookers, Brienne clambered ungracefully to her feet and then helped Jaime up. Once stood, he moved closer to her than necessary and his hand lingered in hers before they released their hold of each other, panting deeply and high on adrenaline from the rush of their swordfight, before turning to look around at everyone assembled. The two of them couldn't help wondering if perhaps they were alienating others around them as they took in the looks of confusion and suspicion and disapproval on everyone's faces. No one seemed to appreciate the fun they were having, or how they were embracing this rare moment of happiness. And yet, inexplicably, neither of them cared.

The moment the crowd had dispersed, Jaime took Brienne by the arm and guided her over through a small archway in the corner of the courtyard, and pushed her against the wall so that they were hidden in the shadows before kissing her passionately, his tongue opening her mouth further as his hands clutched at her face and hers tangled in his hair.

When they eventually broke apart, they were both panting just as deeply as they had immediately after their swordfight. They stayed like that for a moment, their foreheads against each other's as they resumed normal breathing, both of them unable to stop smiling.

'I didn't know it could be like this,' Brienne said quietly.

'Neither did I,' Jaime said softly as he stroked her cheek.

They looked at each other then, both their gazes overcome with emotion. They were so consumed in each other, so in love. If only they could just freeze time.

Brienne cleared her throat nervously. 'Err…by the way, I forgot to mention yesterday…do you fancy going to the inn tonight for a few drinks?' she asked hopefully. 'I said I'd go with Pod and Lady Sansa…'

Jaime grinned. 'Are you acting as chaperone?'

Brienne looked alarmed. 'I-I'm not sure…that's not how Lady Sansa put it, but now you say that I-'

'Let's not be suspicious just yet. And good on the lad for setting his sights high, I say,' Jaime said approvingly, and they both chuckled. 'Yes of course I'll come with you tonight, I'd very much enjoy it. If you're sure Lady Sansa won't mind,' he added hastily, with a doubtful frown.

'She won't. I already asked,' Brienne admitted, her cheeks colouring, and Jaime returned her smile as he leant in and kissed her lips once more.

So that night found Jaime, Brienne, Pod and Lady Sansa sat together around a rickety table at the winter town inn, trying to avoid the stunned looks from the regular visitors there at the sight of the grand lady of Winterfell in their midst. Brienne had asked Sansa if she had been sure about coming here, but Sansa had insisted – she wanted a change of scenery, after having stayed in the castle for so long, and she wanted to distract herself from worrying constantly about the lack of news from Jon and the rest of the force who had departed for the capital.

Brienne was burning to know whether it had been Sansa or Pod who had suggested this outing, but didn't dare ask; she didn't want to embarrass either of them, and she wasn't sure if Sansa perhaps realised that Pod's admiration of her went somewhat beyond that of a normal resident at Winterfell. He'd held a soft spot for Sansa ever since they had found her in the snowy woods that day, Brienne suspected, and she could tell from the way his hands were twitching and the constant darting of his eyes that he believed tonight to be his chance. Sansa, on the other hand, was another story – Brienne had never much been able to read Sansa when it came to her impressions of men who took an interest in her. She wondered if Pod would be an exception.

While the two men went to fetch the drinks, Sansa leaned across the table towards Brienne. 'Thank you for accompanying us tonight, Brienne,' she said gratefully. 'Pod and I were both discussing how we wanted to get out of the castle for a bit, but…well, I feel more comfortable with you here. It's been a while since I…well, since I cared about how I spoke to a man and how I might…'

She trailed off awkwardly but Brienne shook her head with a reassuring smile. 'It's my pleasure, my lady,' Brienne said warmly. 'And Ser Jaime's.'

'I don't mind saying I'm glad he's here as well,' Sansa said, glancing over at Jaime by the bar counter as he threw his head back in laughter at something Pod had said. 'You've come to life since he arrived here, Brienne. I've never seen you this joyful.'

'I've always been very content while in your service, my lady.'

'I know that,' Sansa reassured her, smiling. 'But falling in love has changed your spirit. And it's lovely to see.'

Brienne smiled humbly as she looked down at her lap. 'Thank you, my lady.'

'Ser Jaime seems to be…a changed man, as well. Considerably changed since he last came to Winterfell all those years ago,' Sansa said thoughtfully, giving Jaime a rather calculating look.

'I believe so, yes.'

Sansa turned back to Brienne and smiled. 'I've never seen a man look at anyone the way he looks at you. You've truly enchanted him, Brienne,' she said, leaving Brienne dazed, and then Sansa began to laugh to herself. 'You know, I remember the very first day I saw him. I was only a young girl, it was when King Robert came to stay at Winterfell. And there he was…Jaime Lannister. All the women were fawning all over him.'

'That doesn't surprise me,' Brienne said with a flicker of his eyebrows.

'Well no, he's always been a very handsome man, hasn't he? But he did look ridiculous when I first saw him,' Sansa said disdainfully.

Brienne frowned, surprised. 'How so?' she asked, intrigued.

'His hair. It was so stupid. At the time, I thought he just looked very…majestic, I suppose, but…it was much lighter than it is now, and it was so long and wavy,' Sansa said, almost in disgust, and Brienne beamed at her incredulously, deeply amused. 'It's like he'd had a handmaiden spend hours on it trying to make him look pretty.'

Brienne began to chuckle. 'Oh, I wish I'd seen that, my lady. Now every time I look at him with his normal hair, he'll just be a huge disappointment,' she said, as they both laughed.

'Who's this?'

They turned around; Jaime had appeared behind them along with Pod, carrying their drinks. The two women burst out into fits of laughter again.

'Laughing at my expense? Surely not,' Jaime said with a twitch of his lips, sitting down with them as Pod took his seat beside Sansa. 'Now…Pod had a splendid idea of playing a game or two while we're here.'

'A game?' Sansa said, raising her eyebrows as she took a sip of her drink. 'Am I finally about to find out what you three were getting up to with Tyrion on the night of the feast?'

'Possibly,' Pod said playfully, and Brienne grinned at them both.

'You know, speaking of games, that reminds me,' Jaime said, and he winked at Brienne mischievously before turning to Sansa, 'Brienne did an astounding impression of your brother Jon the other evening, Lady Sansa.'

Sansa raised her eyebrows and smiled at Brienne. 'An impression?'

'Yes, she mimicked his voice. Very accurately, as well. I was impressed,' Jaime said, and he turned to Brienne and barely refrained from flinching at the look on her face. 'Show them, Brienne.'

'I will not,' she said firmly, looking mortified, and Sansa and Pod began to laugh.

'Oh go on-'

'Only if you show them your pathetic attempt as well,' Brienne interrupted him, smirking knowingly at Jaime.

Jaime's eyes widened as he remembered how appalling his own impression had been the other evening…so appalling in fact that it had taken Brienne a good five minutes to calm down her laughter. 'Ugh, fine, you win,' he said in defeat, taking a large swig of his ale.

'No surprises there,' Pod muttered, grinning.

While a deeply amused Sansa leant over to Pod to speak to him in a lowered voice, Brienne turned to Jaime with a stern smile on her face. 'You enjoy making me uneasy, don't you?' she said.

Jaime grinned. 'Perhaps a little,' he said affectionately, and he reached for her hand under the table and squeezed it.

The rest of the evening passed in a blaze of drinking and laughter as all four of them played Tyrion's notorious game. Sansa picked up the rules rather quickly, and for such a refined lady she played rather well; it certainly allowed her to let her hair down for once anyway, something which she immensely enjoyed. As they all got steadily tipsier, she even began to tentatively flirt with Pod, something none of them had been expecting.

When it was Brienne's turn, she was determined to put Jaime on the spot; she enjoyed seeing him flounder, particularly in front of Pod and Sansa. It made him even more endearing.

'You…once told me that I was as boring as I am ugly,' she said towards the end of the night, grinning smugly at Jaime.

'I did not!' Jaime protested, as Sansa and Pod gasped at Jaime in horror.

'You did!' Brienne said, almost gleefully.

'Wait, did I really say that?!' he said, aghast.

'Yes, you did!' Brienne said, and to Jaime's utter bemusement, she was roaring with laughter. 'Drink!'

Rolling his eyes, Jaime took another large gulp of his ale. 'Oh, seven hells, I'm so sorry, Brian, I didn't mean it, truly-'

'Excuse me, did you just call her 'Brian'?' Lady Sansa interrupted, laughing.

'N-no, I'd never do that,' Jaime said at once, his eyes nearly popping in embarrassment.

But Brienne was clapping triumphantly as she laughed. 'You did! You just called me 'Brian'!'

'It was an accident!' Jaime insisted beseechingly, the ale spilling from his tankard. 'I'm tired, I'm too drunk to form words!'

But Brienne hugged him fiercely, unable to stop laughing, to reassure him that all was well and that he had no need to apologise, though she let go of him rather quickly, remembering all too late that there were other people still there in the inn watching their fun little group curiously.

They departed the inn not too long after that, exhausted from the amusing game and having drunk their fair share, and the four of them made their way slowly up to the castle. As they stumbled and slipped up the icy road, Jaime and Brienne huddled up to each other underneath Brienne's big fur cloak to keep warm in the freezing night air, and sure enough Sansa soon offered the same treatment to Pod as she wrapped her cloak to cover them both. Once they were back at the castle, Jaime and Brienne left Pod to escort Lady Sansa back to her chambers – Brienne offered to do it herself, but Sansa insisted that she would only need Pod tonight – and so soon they were back in their familiar, cosy room, the fire already roaring in its hearth awaiting their return.

'I like us,' Jaime said abruptly, as he sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off his boots.

'I'm sorry, what did you say?' Brienne asked, trying not to laugh; she did enjoy it when Jaime had had quite a bit to drink.

'I like us, Brienne. Me and you.'

'Well that's very sweet of you, Jaime, I like us too,' Brienne said, smiling fondly at him as she removed her fur cloak. 'Now let's get to bed, it's late.'

'Wait. I don't just like it. You know that, don't you?' Jaime said, rising to his feet and crossing the room to take both her hands in his. 'I've been wanting to say it for a while, but I…I'm not as brave as I thought, and I was waiting for the right moment-'

'And you think now is the right moment?' Brienne interrupted him sceptically, and she gave him a sharp look.

Jaime hesitated; the room was spinning slightly. 'Perhaps not.'

Brienne smirked. 'I agree. Don't worry, Jaime. There's no rush. We've got all the time in the world,' she murmured, stroking his hair, and Jaime smiled uneasily at her, though his eyes lowered sadly to the floor.

'What is it?' Brienne asked, concerned.

'N-nothing,' Jaime said, forcing himself to look back at her, and he put on a bracing smile. 'Actually, you know what? There is something.'

Brienne raised her eyebrows. 'Oh dear.'

'You've danced with Renly Baratheon.'

Brienne tilted her head at him, confused. 'Is that a problem?' she asked, frowning in bemusement.

'Yes it is,' Jaime said decisively. 'He's the only man you've ever danced with.'

'I have a very bad feeling I know where you're going with this,' Brienne said warily, and sure enough, Jaime held his hand out to her.

'May I have the honour, my lady?' he asked, smiling.

Smirking, Brienne reached out and took his hand. 'But there's no music,' she murmured, frowning at him curiously as he led her into the centre of their bedchambers.

Jaime merely shrugged as he put his golden hand on her waist. 'We'll make our own.'

He held her close as they slowly started to sway on the spot, his fingers stroking Brienne's as he nuzzled his forehead against hers, and then after a few moments began to hum a slow waltz-like version of 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair'.

Brienne scoffed. 'Oh, really?'

'What?' Jaime said, grinning. 'I've grown fond of the song.'

'Well you're terrible at singing it.'

'That's only because you're not joining in with the harmony, now come on…'

She laughed as he twirled her around before bringing her right up to his chest and holding her there, his forehead against hers, his smile tender and loving as he continued to hum the song.

'Isn't it weird, dancing with a woman who's slightly taller than you?' she asked quietly.

'Not really,' Jaime murmured. 'I actually quite like it.'

Brienne smiled and brought her lips to his as they continued to dance there slowly on the spot, lost in each other for one blissful moment.

But it wasn't long after when the nightmares came.

Jaime couldn't breathe. He had been running for so long, and yet it was already too late. She was being ripped apart by three White Walkers, all in the mangled forms of Cersei, Aerys and Locke. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

'Brienne, no! Brienne!' Jaime cried out, running to try and save her.

His knees buckled as he tried to reach her, and fell to the ground…only to see the crisp, burned remains of a tiny baby lying at his feet. Trembling, he looked up to see Cersei looming over him, only this time she wasn't a wight tearing at the flesh of poor Brienne. Her hair fell in long ringlets down her shoulders and she wore dress robes of Lannister red, and tears fell down her cheeks as she gazed down upon her pitiful disappointment of a brother.

'Another one of your children dead…this is your fault…you abandoned us…' she whispered disdainfully at him.

Jaime whimpered tearfully up at her. 'No, I never meant-' But then he broke off as Cersei swept to the side to reveal the blood-stained body of Brienne of Tarth, lying spread-eagled on the ground ahead of him, her eyes open and glassy, the shine from their blue having gone out.

'NO!'

Jaime woke with a start and sat upright in bed, gasping unsteadily. Brienne sat up as well at once, trying to comfort him. Her eyes widened in horror; he was shaking and dripping with sweat.

'It's all right, Jaime, it's all right…it was just a dream, you're safe,' Brienne said to him urgently, cupping his face in her hands and pressing her lips to his forehead.

'Oh!'

An uncontrollable noise that seemed to be a strange mixture of both relief and distress escaped his mouth as Jaime reached desperately for Brienne, and he held her tightly in his arms as she soothed him.

He never wanted to let go. Never.

By the time he'd managed to fall back to sleep, dawn had already broken. When he awoke a few hours later, he found the bed empty; a breakfast tray lay on the table in the room with a note from Brienne saying that she hadn't wanted to wake him. Jaime smiled fondly, then shuddered as he remembered his nightmare, and the look of fear and worry on Brienne's face as she'd tried desperately to calm him down.

This has to stop, he thought. It can't go on like this.

Once he had eaten, washed and dressed, he headed outside, knowing he'd find Brienne out in the courtyard. And sure enough, there she was…only she wasn't alone.

'You and the Kingslayer are practically stuck to one another, have you no shame? He's a Lannister!'

Jaime's lips parted as he watched Brienne glare defiantly back at the northern soldier and his wife who had come to interrogate her. They were so preoccupied with each other that none of them had noticed that Jaime had emerged in the corner of the courtyard.

'My lord, Ser Jaime has proven himself loyal to the Starks, I'd have thought his efforts in the battle against the White Walkers would have been sufficient enough evidence of that,' Brienne said sharply. 'I make no apologies for spending time with him, and quite frankly, it's none of your business anyway.'

'You're not just spending time with him, though, you're lying with him,' the soldier's wife said accusingly.

Brienne frowned, confused. 'I am an honest person, I do not lie, and neither does Ser Jaime-'

'She meant you're sleeping with him,' the soldier cut over her with a roll of his eyes, as Jaime watched on anxiously.

'Oh,' Brienne said, blinking rapidly. 'Well yes, that is true.'

Jaime felt his lips part into an astonished half-smile as he gazed over at her in shock. The soldier and his wife were staring at her in horror and disgust but Brienne looked completely unperturbed as she looked back at them both.

'And you can just say it like that? That you and the Kingslayer are-'

'His name is Ser Jaime, do not call him 'Kingslayer' again or you will severely regret it,' Brienne said warningly. 'And yes, he and I are courting and sharing a bedchamber. What of it?'

'How can you stand it? A whore to the Kingslayer…where's your honour?' the soldier said in disgust, and he spat at her.

Brienne moved to punch him but Jaime got there first; he'd crossed over to them in merely a few strides and slapped him so hard with his golden hand that the soldier went falling to the ground, blood pouring everywhere. His wife cried out in horror as she knelt down to her sobbing husband, but Jaime barely noticed; his eyes were only for Brienne.

She gazed back at him, breathing deeply as a soft smile began to form on her lips as she took in his expression.

Brienne had been so certain ever since her youth that her life would be spent alone, and she'd pretended not to care. She'd even done a very good job of convincing herself for a while that she was fine with it. But then Jaime had come along and saved her from that bear, and protected her and cared for her wounds and sorrows on their journey back from Harrenhal, and been her constant support and friend through her grief and loneliness at the capital. He had won her heart long before she had realised it, but now he was beside her, pure and unashamed of his affections for her, and Brienne was relieved to see that the cold-hearted, sour, unfeeling persona that she had taken on back when they had first met had disappeared completely. No more need for the show of a heart of stone; he had stripped that from her, leaving her bare and open-hearted and truly herself for once.

And Jaime saw truly then that she wasn't ashamed or embarrassed or full of regret, and she never could be. She was proud to be with Jaime, and didn't want to conceal her love for him any longer.

Neither of them was sure who made the first move, but before they knew it their lips had met fervently, their arms around each other, as if suddenly in this moment both of them had reached a silent agreement that they no longer cared about keeping this secret. It didn't matter anymore. Why should they hide it, after all?

When they broke apart, the courtyard had fallen silent all around them – even the wailing soldier and his wife had been stunned into silence. Jaime and Brienne smiled at each other.

'Good morning,' he murmured, trying to ignore the astonished stares of everyone watching them.

'Good morning,' Brienne replied, almost smugly.

Pod then gave a little appreciative cheer from the side, making both Jaime and Brienne chuckle softly as they looked around to find him. There were a great number of people there, some of whom looked appalled, while others looked amused and some even pleased. Pod stood out easily amongst them all; he was beaming ecstatically. Sansa was stood close beside him trying to smile at Brienne, but it didn't quite meet her eyes; there was an anxious crease on her forehead. But Brienne could ignore that easily – after all, the way Sansa and Pod's arms were touching was far more interesting to Brienne than any unnecessary concern Sansa might have over her and Jaime's relationship.

Removing her hands from Jaime's shoulders, Brienne then looked down at the pitiful soldier with the broken nose still lying on the ground beside his wife, who had grown suddenly humble and ashamed. The soldier looked up into Brienne's eyes, and saw then that he didn't have the power to offend her; no one did. Satisfied, Brienne then took hold of Jaime's hand and led him away back into the castle in full view of everyone, no longer afraid of being seen.

'Where are we going?' he asked her curiously, bemused.

'Where do you think?' Brienne said, taking him up the stone steps.

Jaime grinned; he should have learnt by now that nothing worked better on Brienne's lust than a demonstration of his chivalry. Leaving behind their woes and fears and the half-baffled half-impressed crowd outside, they both headed back to their bedchambers and stumbled backwards into their room while laughing in-between kisses, safe with the knowledge that no one would ever dare to call Brienne of Tarth 'the Kingslayer's whore' again.

Chapter Text

'I need to go, I'm already late.'

'Just a few more minutes.'

'But Lady Sansa-'

'Lady Sansa can wait her turn.'

Brienne laughed as Jaime planted kisses all along her face and neck, her bare legs entangled around his under the fur covers. Rays of morning sunlight streamed through the frosted-over window, illuminating the grey in Jaime's hair and beard, and the fading bruises on Brienne's face.

Brienne smiled irresistibly at him as he stroked her arm and kissed her neck. 'You can be so irritating sometimes.'

'Feel free to kick me out of your bed whenever you like,' Jaime murmured, almost seductively, and Brienne chuckled.

'I still can't believe that we're…' She trailed off, not quite sure how to finish the sentence.

'I know,' Jaime murmured fondly, intertwining their fingers as he gazed at her. 'It feels like we should have been doing this the whole time we've known each other. Gods, I was a blind fool back when we first met.'

'So was I.'

'I'm not used to being this…happy all the time,' Jaime said thoughtfully, pressing his lips to her hand. 'It's strange.'

'It is. I wish we could stay like this forever,' Brienne whispered.

Jaime smiled; never before had a statement been truer for him. 'So do I. Is this what it feels like for all couples, do you think?'

'What what feels like?' Brienne asked.

'Love.'

Brienne's lips parted into a soft smile as she gazed at him, stunned, and he smiled back. Before she had time to respond, however, there then came a hesitant knock at the door.

'Err, milady?'

Brienne groaned. 'What is it, Pod?' she called from the bed.

'Forgive me, but Lady Sansa's asking to see you,' Pod replied from the other side of the door, his tone guilty.

Jaime rolled his eyes. 'Can't you put her off a little longer with your special skills?' he asked irritably.

'I-I-I…'

Jaime cut over Pod's stammering with a laugh. 'It's all right, Pod, I was merely jesting. She'll be out in a minute,' he called back.

'Right you are, Ser Jaime,' Pod said, and they listened as he hurried away down the corridor.

'Still seems rather strange for him to find you in my bed, poor man, he's absolutely mortified,' Brienne said, as she sat up in bed, and she turned to Jaime with raised eyebrows. 'Also 'special skills'? Do I even want to know what that means?'

Jaime grimaced as he sat up too. 'Probably best if you don't. Or you can ask Tyrion when we see him again.'

'If we see him again,' he should have said, but neither of them wanted to dwell on that.

Brienne smiled as she leaned in to touch her lips briefly to his. 'I'll see you later,' she said warmly.

She got up and dressed quickly, but Jaime managed to drag her back over to the bed for one last kiss before she had to leave. The moment she'd shut their door behind her, Jaime flopped back onto the bed with a smile on his face and sighed, content.

He was still getting used to the fact that he was finally in a relationship that he didn't have to hide or be ashamed of. He could leave their bedchambers in the morning without having to skulk in the shadows. He could touch Brienne's hand and kiss her cheek in the presence of others, not just in secluded hidden corners of the castle. He could be open and true, for once. And it was glorious.

The scandalised gossip of their public love affair soon became yesterday's news as people became accustomed to the new modern acceptance that seemed to come with Jaime and Brienne's romantic behaviour around one another. With Brienne now having officially replaced Jon Snow as the military commander of Winterfell, her authority seemed to automatically prevent the Northern lords and soldiers for thinking any less of her for openly sleeping with a man whilst unmarried. Meanwhile the women of Winterfell would simply gaze at her with either envy or bewilderment, their opinions on the mysterious Maid of Tarth having vastly improved. Brienne sometimes even enjoyed the indulgent smiles they gave her, as if they were saying 'well done' for managing to win the heart of the man famed for being the most good-looking in all of Westeros.

It had been exciting while their relationship had been secret, but strangely it was just as fun now that everyone knew, although Brienne couldn't take it seriously anymore when Jaime kept deliberately calling her 'Ser Brienne' in front of people, not when he spoke those words regularly while in between their bed sheets. It made her blush furiously to hear him address her that way in daylight, which only amused Jaime, thereby encouraging him to carry on. Not that she was any better at keeping their public behaviour appropriate – one evening she even led Jaime into the public bathhouse, and, after seeing that it was empty, she'd barred the door and they had made love there and then in the steaming water of the tub.

It thrilled Brienne to act so impulsively and recklessly in this way, but it thrilled Jaime just as much to simply have an ordinary life here in Winterfell, with a routine of work during the day and evenings filled with food and drink and laughter. Domestic life had never been Jaime's style before, but right now, as he stayed by Brienne's side and watched her work and fight and train and smile and meet his gaze, he knew he wanted to dedicate every mundane, meaningless day here in the dreary North solely to Brienne.

Brienne had come into his life and had had such an impact on him that he'd been changed forever as a person. And Jaime knew he would never be able to repay her for all that good she had done him. The intensity and strength of their connection that had only kept building over these past few years left Jaime overwhelmed with joy and hope. He had grown from the arrogant, ruthless warrior he had once prided himself on being, and he had come to deal with his wrongdoings and made amendments for his horrific acts of the past by coming to Winterfell. And he had learnt to love another woman. A wonderful, honourable, good woman. A woman he did not deserve.

Even as the days slowly turned to weeks, Jaime still couldn't believe his uncommonly good fortune. He knew that the best thing he would ever do was love Brienne. He just hoped that this knowledge was enough to help him fight back against the anguished voices in his head and the mental images of Bronn's challenging leer, Tyrion's concerned frown, Cersei's furious glare…

But still, even though he managed to keep them at bay as best as he could during his waking moments, the voices and faces didn't stay away in his dreams. For most nights, Jaime tried to avoid giving into his tiredness and simply lay in their bed staring up at the ceiling, trying not to shiver as the guilt and fear overwhelmed him; in those moments, he would reach out and take Brienne's hand while she slept and her fingers would squeeze his subconsciously, helping him hold on. Yet Jaime did not fool Brienne each morning when they rose for breakfast; the shadows under his eyes were only deepening as time went on, and while she pretended to sleep she could feel him twist and turn in the night, letting out anguished sighs before pulling her into his arms. He was a man in a storm, and she was his shelter. But as the days went by, Brienne couldn't help wondering if her shelter would be enough to keep him protected, or if it would simply crumble into pieces and leave him open to attack at any moment.

It seemed that Brienne wasn't the only one beginning to notice the tired, uneasy expression that occasionally flickered on Jaime's face from time to time. During one particularly frosty day, Lady Sansa asked Jaime for a word in her study. Jaime wasn't in the slightest bit worried…at least until he sat down opposite her desk and took in the cold, calculating look in her eyes.

'Ser Jaime, I hope you don't mind but I'm just going to get straight to the point,' Sansa said, and she exhaled deeply. 'What exactly are your intentions with Ser Brienne?'

Jaime stared at her, perplexed. 'My lady?'

'She told me not long after she first came into my service that you've treated her honourably in the past. But…I must confess your recent behaviour rather…contradictory to her previous assessment,' Sansa said, her brow creased, and Jaime suddenly felt rather nauseous. 'It's no secret that Brienne came to Winterfell a…an unmarried maiden of noble birth…and…well…you two have caused a bit of a scandal.'

'Believe me, my lady, I've discussed this matter with her many times. But Brienne is…well, she's never really been one to bother about what other people think of her,' Jaime said, a hint of a font smile on his lips. 'Truth to be told, we were already used to gossip and rumours regarding our relationship many years ago when she returned me to King's Landing.'

'Only now when they call you 'the lovers', that's no longer just a rumour, is it?' Sansa said coolly, watching him.

There was a flustered silence.

Sansa rolled her eyes exasperatedly as she sat back in her chair. 'Please, Ser Jaime, it's not exactly like either of you have made any effort in hiding it. You made a very public demonstration of your relationship two weeks ago. You both openly discuss how you share Brienne's bedchambers now, and you were both seen coming out of the bathhouse together the other night,' she said sharply, causing Jaime to grimace and blush. 'Not to mention how the pair of you cling to each other's side every moment of every day like adolescents on the brink of becoming engaged.'

Jaime looked down awkwardly. 'Brienne was under the impression you were aware of our…situation, from the beginning. And that you were…accepting of it.'

'I was. But that was before I realised you would go flaunting your relationship around my home in a manner only the most simple-minded of children wouldn't understand,' Sansa said, her disapproval etched in every feature of her face.

Jaime sighed. 'Lady Sansa, I do hope you'll forgive us for any inappropriate behaviour, but…if you're concerned about whether I'll be true to her, which I suspect is what this is really all about, then you can rest easy. Brienne is…everything to me,' he said sincerely.

Sansa's lips parted as she considered him. 'I believe your intentions to be true,' she said heavily. 'But I also believe what Brienne has said before about your sense of honour and your loyalty to your family, so you can understand why I have my concerns.'

Jaime felt a lump rise in his throat. 'I can. But Brienne is my family now.'

His voice and expression were so sure that it stunned Sansa into silence for a moment. She even felt briefly ashamed for doubting him, before remembering that he was a Lannister, and she had every right to question the motives of a former enemy. Even if he was the true love of her closest friend.

She considered him closely. 'You love her.'

'I do,' Jaime rang out proudly.

She nodded slowly, deep in thought. 'You would marry her. If it was something she wished.'

'I would,' Jaime said, and he smiled. 'I will.'

There was a short silence as they stared at each other, both of them trying to read what was going through the other's mind.

'Then there is nothing more to be said,' Sansa said eventually, rising to her feet. 'Other than perhaps this – if you ever dare to hurt Brienne, Pod and I will personally ensure that you are punished for it.'

Jaime smiled. 'I'd expect nothing less.'

He soon emerged outside in the courtyard not long after that, relieved to get away from Sansa's searching stare, and looked around until he saw Brienne's familiar tall, blonde figure as she gathered together a new shipment that had just been delivered through the gates. She was dressed in a simple tunic and breeches today underneath her heavy fur cloak; she no longer felt the need to wear her suit of armour all the time, unless the occasion called for it. Jaime smiled wistfully as he gazed over at her, and inexplicably found himself remembering how he had stood in that very spot she was in now when he had bid farewell to Tormund Giantsbane a few weeks ago.

'She chose you, King Killer,' Tormund had said heavily. 'Though it was a close call.'

'Very close,' Jaime had replied, nodding as he fought back an amused smile.

Tormund had then held out his hand. 'Make sure she chose right. Make sure you treat her like the queen she is,' he'd said passionately.

Jaime had smiled, but this time it had been genuine. 'I will. Thank you, Tormund,' he'd said, and the two unlikely allies had shaken hands and parted as friends.

Looking over at Brienne now as she worked and laughed with Pod, Jaime had never found Tormund's words more valuable, nor Sansa's from earlier. They helped him keep fighting, to hold on. As much as the shadow of Cersei and the unknown path that lay ahead scared him, he had to keep listening to his heart, and not the devil in his ear.

He didn't know what the future held for them both, but all Jaime knew was that he wanted Brienne in it, in every moment, by his side. And it was time he told her that.

* * *

The doubt began to seep in merely a few days after Jaime had watched Brienne and her new squire ride away from the sunny capital. He had never questioned his relationship with Cersei before. He had never once even acknowledged that Tyrion's assessment of how toxic it was between them both could somehow be true. And yet now, with Tyrion locked away in a dungeon for the murder of Joffrey, Jaime was starting to see what he meant.

Jaime would wake early each morning and watch the sunrise, and then he would look back to the beautiful woman sleeping off all her wine from the day before in the bed he sometimes shared with her, and try desperately to remind himself of how lucky he was to be back here at home – if he could still call it 'home' – with her. Ever since Robb Stark had captured him, Jaime had fought tooth and nail and done unspeakable things to get back to Cersei as quickly as he could, after all. And yet now, he couldn't seem to focus on any of that. Now all he could do was look at her as she slept and try not to let himself acknowledge his relief at how peaceful it was without her glaring or snapping at him whenever she was awake.

And then, without fail, he would always end up thinking of her. The Maid of Tarth. And that was when Jaime would have to turn away from Cersei's sleeping figure in his guilt, and look back up at the sunrise and pray that maybe today at last would be the day he would hear from her. But he knew deep down that would never happen. He would most likely never hear from Brienne again. But still, he could hope. Some days – indeed, on particularly bad days when his sister let her rage and grief explode – it was only this hope and the thought of Brienne and her mission to find Sansa that managed to keep him going.

He couldn't deny that meeting Brienne and spending considerable time with her had shown him the kind of man he had the potential to be without Cersei's influence. But this terrified him. It was much easier just to fall back on the familiarity of Cersei rather than force himself to deal with the messiness of his newfound fondness – and, dare he say it, possible attraction? – for Brienne. She was a complication in his life. And Cersei had never been one to stand for complications.

As Tyrion's imprisonment and trial proceeded, Jaime had rare occasion to call Brienne to his mind. It was only when his younger brother was sentenced to death, and Jaime saw the pleased, smug look of satisfaction on their sister's face, that he found himself in despair and desperate for Brienne's wisdom and support while he questioned everything he had ever known about his family; after all, he was unable to face Cersei anymore while she strutted about the castle, happy in the knowledge that their brother was soon to die.

It was during moments such as these when, even though they were far apart, it almost felt like Brienne was still here with him, guiding him, nurturing him. Hers was the voice of morality in Jaime's ear whenever he found himself at a crossroads; in his mind she would scold him whenever he gave into his lust for Cersei and whenever he strayed close to acting in the selfish, arrogant manners of his past, and she would encourage him whenever he took it upon himself to do what he knew to be moral course of action. When he felt weak and close to succumbing to his old ways and letting Cersei's immoral decisions rule over his actions, he drew strength from Brienne.

What would Brienne do?, he would frequently ask himself.

The answer was always clear: the honourable thing. The right thing. And that was why he rescued Tyrion from the cell and set him free. Later on, he came to somewhat regret that – Tyrion subsequently murdering their father after his release certainly put a rather bitter spin on Jaime's gallant rescue – but nevertheless, he was determined to use the thought and memory of Brienne's strength and determination for further good: to save his and Cersei's daughter, Myrcella, from the clutches of the Sand Snakes where she was being held as a ward (or rather, a hostage) at Dorne.

Jaime took his new trainer (and sellsword) with him – after all, even with his new golden hand, he was still merely passable at fighting with a sword now, and he needed someone to protect him – and the two soon set sail across the sea. One day, Jaime joined the busy hard-working crew members up on the deck of their ship, so that he could look out at the views of the ocean. It was then when he saw the rising silhouette of an island, made up of many green hills and mountains that glittered in the sunlight. It looked small but divine, and far away from the woes and troubles of the rest of the world. Jaime felt an urge to launch one of the skiffs from the ship and sail across, to start a new life for himself there, wherever it was. Alas, it could never be.

Curious, Jaime turned back to catch the attention of one of the crew members, who was passing. 'Is that Estermont?' he asked.

'Tarth, Ser Jaime,' the man replied, and Jaime turned back wistfully to the island far ahead, his heart soaring. 'The Sapphire Isle.'

Warmth flooded through him as he put his hand back down on the edge of the deck, touched by the sight of Brienne's home. No wonder he had felt such a connection to it. Even from this distance, he could tell that the immediate water surrounding the isle was an astonishing blue – a blue, in fact, that reminded him very much of Brienne's eyes. He gazed longingly across at the island, and found himself wondering where Brienne could be now. He felt himself begin to smile, and realised in that moment just how truly he missed her, much more than he'd anticipated. He thought back to the look on her face as she'd ridden away from him that sad day. He thought of the way the light had caught her, how it had made her hair and armour shine proudly, how it had made her look like a knight.

The crew member peered around at him, concerned. 'Is…everything all right, Ser Jaime?' he asked tentatively.

Jaime turned back to him, realising that he'd never responded to the crew member when he'd answered him. 'Yes, forgive me, I…I just have a friend from Tarth, that's all.'

The crew member nodded knowingly and with a smile he walked away.

A friend. Was that all she was? Jaime couldn't be sure.

He turned back to watch the Sapphire Isle as they slowly sailed past. It looked so beautiful, even from this distance. He wished he could see it properly.

One day, perhaps, a small voice inside him thought hopefully.

Jaime stayed up on the deck until Tarth had disappeared from view, and then with a sigh he turned and headed back downstairs to join Bronn in the cabins below decks. It couldn't have been real, what he'd thought he'd felt brewing between himself and Brienne in those intimate weeks together on the kingsroad, and the weeks that followed at the capital. The whole thing had surely only ever been a game for him, a distraction. But then he thought of the way she'd consoled him after Joffrey's death, the way she'd implored him to see that there was lightness in him after all, the way she'd listened tentatively to his stories and let him look after her whilst on the kingsroad on the way back from Harrenhal…that evening by the river. But no, he couldn't think of that. He mustn't think of that.

By the time Jaime was back on the ship sailing in the opposite direction many weeks later, he barely noticed as they passed Tarth along the rocky waves of the sea. He was too upset to even bother looking up out of his window. He'd stayed shut away in his cabin for the entire journey so far, ever since Bronn and some of the crew members had forced Jaime to release his hold of Myrcella's dead body. He'd never felt more vulnerable or alone or guilt-ridden in his life…which was saying something.

It's my fault, he kept thinking to himself in anguish as the tears continued to fall. If I hadn't come to Dorne, she wouldn't be dead. My Myrcella. It's all my fault.

When Bronn finally forced himself to try and show a bit of compassion, he knocked heavily on Jaime's cabin door and entered without waiting for an answer. They were still quite a number of days away from arriving back at King's Landing, but he felt he needed to give Jaime some time to start sobering up and prepare to put his grief behind him before facing life back at the capital. Jaime wasn't an avid drinker, but this journey had been an exception for him. Bronn stared down pitifully at Jaime now; he was slumped against his bed on the wooden floor, hugging his knees as he stared at the spot where he had cradled Myrcella's body. His cup of wine had spilt all over the floor, and the cup was rolling about on the floor incessantly.

'Cheer up,' was Bronn's greeting as he sauntered into the cabin, and he sighed heavily as he sat down beside Jaime. 'Ahh, dear. You said you wanted to die in the arms of the woman you loved – I think you need that woman right now. I can send word to the Queen Regent-'

'It's not her I want to see,' Jaime mumbled, his eyes staring blankly at the floor.

'Then who?'

There was a silence as the ship rocked from side to side.

'You don't know her,' Jaime muttered, and Bronn raised his eyebrows.

'My, my, you do surprise me. I always thought you were loyal to your, err…sister.'

Jaime gave him a dark look; his eyes were bloodshot, though whether it was from tears or drink, Bronn couldn't tell.

Bronn rolled his eyes exasperatedly. 'Skip the pretence with me, we both know you've been fucking Cersei since you were both old enough to know how to-'

'Now listen here-' Jaime said angrily, struggling to try and get up to his feet, but he stumbled; Bronn slammed a hand roughly on his chest and forced him back down to the floor.

'I'm here to protect you and kill for you, not to give up my freedom to talk as I like,' Bronn said sharply, as Jaime gave up and sat back down.

Jaime's nostrils flared. He was furious with the man, but too drunk to be bothered taking action on punishing him for his impropriety just right now.

'You don't want to send a raven, then?' Bronn asked. 'We have some on board, we could get word to your sister so she knows-'

'No. It would only make her angry, and I need to be there to tell her myself. Besides, I want to put it off as long as possible,' Jaime admitted, his words slurring slightly. 'She'll only blame me. She'll hate me for it, she'll curse me for it, and she'll be completely right and she'll…she'll forget that I'm in pain as well. She always does.'

'Oh I see,' Bronn said in mock sympathy. 'So you want a woman to comfort you. Well, you can always pay a visit to one of the brothels and ask for that, they're good in-'

'It's not a whore I want,' Jaime interrupted shortly.

'Then who? Who is this mystery woman whose company you so crave right now?' Bronn asked, almost teasingly.

Jaime glared scathingly at him. 'Are you mocking me?'

'Dunno. But I am fascinated. Who's better than the grand beautiful Cersei Lannister?' Bronn pointed out, intrigued.

'Not necessarily better. Just…different,' Jaime said, and he sighed heavily as he stared back at the floor. 'It's complicated.'

Bronn scoffed. 'How complicated?'

'Very complicated.'

'I won't ask who it is, I know you'd never tell me. Why the fuck would you? But what makes her so special?' Bronn demanded.

Jaime then stared at him incredulously with a frown, as if only just realising that he was here. 'Why are you still here talking to me about this? You don't care.'

'No I bloody well don't, but it's fucking boring here on this ship and I'm sick of the captain and his awful jokes,' Bronn said bluntly. 'So…do you want us to write to this woman instead, whoever she is?'

'No, she…I don't know where she is, she…she's far away, I can't reach her. She might be dead for all I know,' Jaime said helplessly, and his face scrunched up as another tear trickled down his cheek. 'I just know she'd know what to say. She'd certainly have a much better bedside manner than you.'

'Bedside manner?' Bronn said exasperatedly, and he groaned. 'For fuck's sake, just get over yourself, people die every day, there's nothing wrong with you so stop your self-pity and-'

'Shut your mouth, Bronn,' Jaime interrupted warningly.

'She was your niece! You barely knew her.'

'My niece?' Jaime said, and his voice broke.

Bronn fell silent then. Jaime wondered if Bronn had really known deep down, and had just been keeping along with the façade that societal norms demanded – he'd certainly hinted as much before – or if in reality he hadn't truly realised until just now.

Bronn looked deeply uncomfortable, but instead of an apology, all that came out of his mouth was, 'So…this 'other woman'. She was kind? Caring?'

The smallest hint of a fond smile appeared on Jaime's lips. 'Not really. Only when the occasion called for it. But I think…what she and I felt for each other was true,' he murmured in a small voice. 'It was…pure.'

Bronn rolled his eyes; he was drunker than he'd thought. ''Was'?'

Jaime looked down and sighed. 'Even if we were to meet again, even if I'd wanted to…we could never have been able to…be together.'

'Why not? You're not exactly betrothed to your sister, are you?' Bronn pointed out; that seemed to sober Jaime up.

'If you mention my sister in that regard one more time, I will personally slit your throat,' Jaime said, glaring at Bronn. 'And the same goes for if you ever repeat a word of this conversation to anyone outside this cabin.'

'Understood.' Bronn got up to his feet and headed back towards the cabin door. 'Get some rest, you should sleep all that wine off. Oh, and by the way, I wouldn't give up hope on her. She may be far away, but I've heard enough about her from you to know that there's no fucking way that Brienne of Tarth is dead. You'll see her again.'

Jaime looked up with shocked eyes, but Bronn had already left the cabin and shut the door behind him. He swallowed as he looked around at his empty goblet of wine, still rolling around on the floor. He wondered if Bronn had known who he'd been talking about this whole time. Then he realised that he had been a fool to assume that Bronn was stupid and blind enough not to have known from the very start. He'd witnessed his and Brienne's farewell on the outskirts of King's Landing, after all. And now he knew how Jaime really felt. The cutthroat could easily hold that against him. He would most likely have to pay him money to keep silent now.

To Jaime's surprise, however, Bronn remained silent on the subject for the remainder of their journey and simply acted as if Jaime hadn't spilled his most personal secret to him. When they arrived back at King's Landing, Cersei appeared to have been through a hell of her own while Jaime had been away, having been locked up by the High Sparrow for her crimes; being reunited with her daughter had been the one thing she'd had left to cling onto…something Jaime was left to shatter before her very eyes as he brought Myrcella's body ashore.

It was an almost impossible task to comfort Cersei as she mourned their daughter. Her head had been shaved, she had been paraded naked around the streets and publicly humiliated in ways she hadn't imagined possible, and her excitement at seeing Myrcella again had been the last shred of humanity that remained to her. And now that was all gone. So all Jaime had been able to do was declare a solemn vow to always stay loyal to her and to protect her from all those who sought to destroy them, and hope that was enough to reassure her that no further harm would come to her. But it wasn't enough. It soon transpired that nothing ever would be.

As time passed, Cersei's grief morphed into something more than hatred and anger. She wasn't just hungry for power and revenge now, she was hungry for the end of all things that were nothing to do with House Lannister. Jaime began to no longer recognise her as he watched her fall further into the destructive path she was carving out for everyone in the Seven Kingdoms, including themselves. He even became somewhat grateful for time without her; he could relax then. But then she would emerge in all her terrifying regal splendour to chastise him over the importance of their power and their family legacy before seducing him into her bed, and Jaime would go away inside himself while it happened, clinging to the love he desperately wanted to still have for this new woman, this twisted broken woman in his sister's body. After all, that was all he had left. As terrible as she could be, Cersei was a part of him, and he was nothing without her.

But of course, Jaime had to remind himself that he hadn't always been a nothing when he'd been without Cersei. When he'd been held captive and then taken back to King's Landing all that time ago, he hadn't been extraordinary but he had been something. He had made a difference in someone's life – he had saved Brienne from a rape and a bear, after all, had he not? He had been something else with Brienne. A different man. A better man. He missed being that man sometimes.

On the nights when he found himself too repelled or infuriated by Cersei to go near her, Jaime would find himself shut away in the Lord Commander's quarters, and he would look up at the stars from the balcony and wonder if Brienne was looking up at them too, at the same moment. He wondered where she was, what she was doing, what she was thinking. He wondered if he ever crossed her mind, before remembering he couldn't allow himself to wonder about such things.

She's left, he told himself. She's left and she's never coming back.

And so on he went, trying to make it through each day while his sister plotted and threatened and dreamed of bigger and better things for them, each thing scarier for Jaime than the next. But he was helpless against her. His loyalty wasn't completely blind (or so he told himself, at least); Cersei only acted in the way she thought she had to, and underneath that terrifying, dangerous exterior there was still the woman who had come into the world with him, the woman he had loved all his life, the woman part of the one thing he cherished above all things – his family. Nevertheless, he was her puppet without realising it, doing everything she commanded and letting her bring out the immoral side that still remained tucked away within him. He soon found himself even preparing a trip to deal with the Blackfish and take Riverrun's castle, something Cersei was eager for him to get done quickly and brutally, if necessary.

As time went on, Jaime could feel his reserve failing, Brienne's influence slipping away bit by bit as he found his anger at the High Sparrow and the Blackfish and the Sand Snakes and everyone who wanted to tear his family apart begin to consume him. He even felt inexplicably furious with Tommen for demoting him and removing him from the Kingsguard; it meant that this mission to Riverrun was his only chance to prove his worth to House Lannister now. He would have to take the castle with fire and blood, as the famous dreaded song about his late father had always taught him to do, for Cersei and for their family legacy. Because without that there was no point to any of this, no point at all. And as he and his army rode off to Riverrun with a fire in his belly and hatred for the world that had taken so much from him, Jaime knew that he was lost once more. No one could save him now.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

The Godswood in Winterfell was a mystical place, a small tranquil wooded area that was most affected by the winter than any other place in the grounds. The small pond was frozen over, the dark red leaves hanging from the heart tree's branches crisp and still, the snow on the ground soft and deep. Neither Jaime nor Brienne worshipped the old gods, but it was a nice, peaceful area to escape to on occasion; secluded and quiet and away from the hustle and bustle of life back in the castle. It was beautiful here, surrounded by the great tall trees and the never-ending snow. It was serene.

Brienne kept glancing sideways at Jaime anxiously as she held his gloved hand tightly in her own while they walked leisurely together towards the frozen pond, but she couldn't read his expression. He'd been remarkably quiet all day, and it unnerved her. It felt like she was trying to hold her breath constantly, as if trying to freeze each moment in time, to make it never end, to let it just stay this way even though she knew this dream he had set off in them both might very well not last. But still, they could share in the dream for now. They could enjoy it. And they could hope. Never before had Brienne clung to hope so desperately – anything just so that this perfect life they had only just started together could last.

Jaime then cleared his throat as they came to a halt by the pond. 'I don't think I ever told you, but…I saw Tarth once, a while ago…when I was on my way to Dorne, for Myrcella,' he said, glancing up at her.

Brienne's face had lit up. 'You saw Tarth?'

'It looked beautiful,' Jaime said, smiling warmly.

'It is,' Brienne said wistfully. 'I miss it sometimes.'

'I was thinking it's…probably worth another visit,' Jaime went on tentatively. 'I only saw it from a distance, after all.'

Brienne stared at him for a moment, stunned. 'Y-you'd like to go to Tarth?'

'Hmm. Yes. Perhaps…when all this is over…we could go together,' Jaime suggested, looking back at the pond as if suddenly fascinated by the sheet of ice across it.

'Perhaps we could,' Brienne said, and her voice went slightly higher than usual, but then her face fell. 'Although…I'm sworn to protect Lady Sansa. How could I protect her if I was away in Tarth?'

Jaime tilted his head thoughtfully. 'I'm sure she wouldn't mind giving you a break for a month or so. You could leave Pod in Winterfell as your second, to take your place and protect Sansa while you were gone – that way you wouldn't be breaking your vow. She certainly wouldn't mind that,' he said, smirking, and Brienne rolled her eyes with a grin.

'No, I don't think she would. But…would you really want to go?' she asked doubtfully.

'I would. I have done ever since the day I sailed past it,' Jaime said in a sincere voice, and he smiled almost sadly at the memory. 'I couldn't stop thinking about you that day, you know. I thought I'd never see you again.'

'But you did.'

Jaime smiled, and felt a lump rise in his throat as he tried to form the words that he had yearned to say for such a very long time now. 'Brienne,' he began nervously, and he swallowed. 'You told me once in King's Landing that…you never wanted a husband.'

Brienne's lips parted as she returned his gaze, her heart racing. 'Th-that's right, I did.'

'Do you still stand by that now?' he asked, as if he were merely asking her of her opinion on today's weather.

There was a stunned pause as they both stared at each other.

'I…Jaime, what are you saying?' Brienne whispered, her fingers twitching nervously.

Jaime smiled tenderly at her. 'I think you know.'

Brienne exhaled shakily, unable to stop smiling herself. She didn't understand. She'd thought he wanted to wait until after the war was over before they discussed any of that. Perhaps he'd simply just changed his mind. Or perhaps he thought the war would never be over.

Jaime then took both her hands in his, and he held them close to his chest, where she could feel his heart pounding, even beneath his thick winter cloak. 'Do you remember the words I said to you in the tent, that day at Riverrun? When you tried to give me Oathkeeper?' he asked.

'Of course I do,' Brienne replied breathlessly; how could she ever forget? 'You said it would always be mine.'

'And you know I didn't just mean the sword, don't you?' Jaime said, smiling.

Brienne blinked rapidly, touched. 'You truly knew then? How you felt?'

'I think I felt it long before that,' Jaime said softly, 'it just wasn't until Riverrun that I realised it…properly.'

Brienne squeezed his hand as she felt her eyes begin to well up. 'You asked me to wait for you that day,' she murmured, and Jaime smiled fondly.

'And you did.'

He remembered that day vividly. The way he'd followed her out of the tent, frustrated with his own inability to express the feelings that had only just truly come to light within him, desperate not to see her leave his side so soon after only just reuniting…the things he'd said to her just before she had left with Pod for the castle…the way she had looked at him with those large disbelieving eyes, brimming with tears and not quite daring to hope that he could be true to her, that he meant all the things he said with his eyes and merely a few words.

That day at Riverrun had changed everything for him. For both of them, in fact. It had reminded them both of hope. It had reminded them both of love.

'But…the time of waiting is done, and…life is too short not to say and do the things we long to,' Jaime said, gazing firmly back into Brienne's eyes, and he let out a shuddering breath; he was incredibly nervous, but Brienne's reassuring smile and her blue eyes brimming with emotion calmed him. 'We can discuss the practicalities of things later, and I want to ask you properly…but planning to spend the rest of our lives together can only start once the war is over.'

'I agree. Although I will hold you to your word that you'll ask me when the war has ended,' Brienne said, smirking at him, and they both laughed as Jaime gazed down at their intertwined hands.

'Please do, so I don't let my better judgement change my mind when the time comes,' he said, squeezing her hands again.

Brienne tilted her head at him, confused. 'Whatever do you mean?'

When he looked back up at her, there were tears in his eyes. 'I shouldn't ask you to marry me, Brienne. I'm merely broken pieces of a man trying to stay together. I'm not much, and I don't deserve you. I barely even know who or what I am anymore,' he said, his voice shaking slightly, and he reached up to cup her face, his eyes firm and sincere and loving. 'But whatever I am, whatever is left of me…I'm yours, Brienne. Heart, body and soul. I'm yours.'

Brienne's chin and lip quivered as she watched a tear escape his eye, and her heart knew in that moment that she would never be alone again. Finally she was free to dream of a future with him. A life together with Jaime Lannister on the Sapphire Isle – who could have imagined it? And as she kissed him under the shelter of the old weirwood tree, it almost felt like the gods were indeed watching them, blessing them, as they embraced and smiled and savoured this perfect moment. However the days to come would unfold, Brienne didn't mind, not now, and especially not now today had happened. She had found herself with a new lease on life, and a new partner with whom to share it: Jaime. They were in love and she was happy, truly happy, for the first time in her life, just as he was. And that was all that mattered in the end.

Chapter Text

A few days later found the courtyard particularly busier than usual, filled with people diligently carrying on with the clear-up of the remains and rubble left over from the battle last month. Jaime stepped outside, keen to find Brienne and for them to start the morning's work together, but slowly came to a halt as he caught sight of Lady Sansa and Brienne stood over in the far corner of the yard, conversing with anxious expressions on their faces. Sansa had a scroll in her hands.

Jaime's heart sank.

He watched as the two women exchanged an uneasy glance and walked away under an archway with the scroll, to continue their conversation in private. Jaime swallowed nervously.

I shouldn't follow. It's best if I don't know. I don't want to know.

But it was no use.

He crossed the courtyard and walked through the archway; he found them both stood in an empty clearing, far away from the rest of the workers. Sansa was finishing reading aloud the contents of the scroll to Brienne.

'-as are the rest of her advisors,' Sansa was saying, frowning worriedly down at the parchment, but then she broke off as she heard Jaime approach.

She looked up at him, only there was a strange coldness in her eyes that Jaime wasn't used to seeing. It disheartened him; he'd thought that he and Lady Sansa had bonded somewhat, particularly over the last couple of weeks. There was only one reason why that bond would be instantly shattered – Cersei.

Brienne followed Sansa's gaze and looked up to see Jaime. Her face fell slightly. She'd hoped to put this off. She'd hoped the events down in the south would be kept away from them, just so they could continue to try and forget, just for a little longer. But she knew from Jaime's expression that he already knew that the raven wouldn't have come here with news unrelated to the sister he had abandoned.

'What happened?' Jaime asked tentatively, stepping towards them.

Brienne looked at Sansa uneasily; she couldn't reveal the contents of the scroll without her permission. Sansa glanced uncomfortably at Jaime and then to the ground. There was no point in keeping it from him, not when she knew Brienne would most likely be unable to keep it secret when the two of them shared a bedchamber and were practically living together as a betrothed couple. She gave Brienne a reluctant nod.

Trying to remain calm and professional, Brienne turned to Jaime and spoke to him formally, as if to merely a fellow knight; it was the only way. 'Euron Greyjoy ambushed Queen Daenerys and her fleet,' she revealed, watching Jaime's face carefully as he felt his insides drop to the pit of his stomach. 'One of the dragons was killed, several ships destroyed, Missandei captured.'

Jaime tried to keep his expression under control, but Brienne saw the way he glanced to Sansa in disbelief, the horrified rise of his eyebrows, the desperate 'no' screaming out from his eyes as his thoughts turned fearfully to Tyrion's safety. He didn't want this. He didn't want any of this. It was terrible, what he was hearing, and they all knew who was behind it. And yet none of them could speak her name. It felt like a fist was tightening around Brienne's throat as she watched him struggle to maintain his composure.

Jaime's eyes fell once more to meet Sansa's. He thought he saw disdain in her gaze, similar to the way Daenerys Targaryen had looked at him during his trial on his first day here. Perhaps she'd changed her mind about him. Perhaps she wished she'd kept him as a prisoner rather than a guest after all. It certainly seemed that way, from the frosty expression on her face. Finally, she spoke.

'I always wanted to be there when they execute your sister,' Sansa said coldly, and there was a strange cruelty to the smug look on her face as she stared at him. 'Seems like I won't get the chance.'

Jaime felt the light inside him break as Sansa snapped at him, and in that moment he saw the loathing she still had for him…even after the battle, their conversations about Brienne, their time over the past month spent drinking and laughing and playing games with each other in a group…she still didn't trust him. He realised then that, no matter how hard he tried, he would never be truly free of the Lannister name.

Before he had chance to think of anything to say, Sansa had already turned her back on Jaime and walked away, with the briefest of disapproving glances in Brienne's direction. Brienne felt a lump rise in her throat as she watched her depart, knowing that she ought to follow…but she found herself unable to move. She turned back to face Jaime and saw the slight quiver of his bottom lip, the light fading from his eyes, the lowering of his gaze as he felt Brienne's eyes on him.

Brienne exhaled deeply; she dearly wished Sansa hadn't said those spiteful words to him, but then again, they all knew them to be true – after Cersei had had one of Daenerys' dragons killed and her most beloved advisor and friend captured, why would Daenerys wait before executing her? Everyone knew that Cersei was in more danger now than she'd ever been before – everyone except, Jaime suspected, Cersei herself. She was too arrogant to ever think she would lose. She practically thought she was immortal, that everyone was too scared to dare to touch her. And perhaps that was true…for everyone apart from the Mother of Dragons.

Beginning to feel a swell of panic, Brienne walked over to Jaime, her boots crunching against the layer of frost that covered the yard. 'Ignore Sansa, don't take it personally,' she said urgently, trying to reassure him.

She reached for his hand; Jaime's fingers hung limply in hers as he stared at her fur cloak, seeing nothing.

'She doesn't mean to take it out on you like that,' Brienne insisted. 'She's just angry with your sister.'

'Who the hell isn't?' Jaime muttered, still unable to meet her gaze.

No one more than himself, he was certain of that.

He didn't blame Sansa for her anger and hatred towards Cersei, but the awful truth was, Jaime had been complicit in all the crimes and actions Sansa loathed her for. How could he let Cersei face retribution for them alone, after the part he had played?

'Jaime, are you all right?' Brienne asked quietly, and she sighed sympathetically when he gave no response. 'We knew this day was going to come sooner or later…'

He looked up at her then, his eyes meeting hers for the first time since she'd announced the news that the raven had brought. There was a sorrowful desperation in both their gazes. They were so close. So very close to surviving this, to living through it, to moving on to a new life that they would share together in perfect harmony. He could almost still believe that he wasn't pretending. Almost.

Jaime forced a small smile. 'I'm fine. Really,' he murmured.

But he had never been less fine, and Brienne knew it.

Her lips parted as if to say something – though she knew there were no words that could comfort him today – but then he gave her hand a squeeze and let go. She watched as he walked away, his head bent low, and the moment he'd disappeared back through the archway, she exhaled shakily.

Dizzy and nauseous, Jaime walked back through the main courtyard, taking in the sights of the grounds and people that had become his home and friends as he went, as if in a trance, while he dwelled on the message from the scroll.

Another dragon gone. Missandei, sweet and innocent, most likely already gone. And for what? What had poor Missandei ever done to Cersei? Why was Cersei doing any of this, when she should be clever enough to know that she'd already lost and that she should surrender? Why hadn't he stopped her rise to power sooner? Why had he encouraged and supported her through it all, why had he enabled her all her life to act in such a monstrous way and lead to this mess that could destroy the lives of so many in King's Landing? Jaime suddenly felt overwhelmed with the need to punish himself. After all, he was just as responsible for this as Cersei was. But, unlike Cersei, he'd been given a second chance at life. A chance of being happy. And he was happy with Brienne, so very happy. But his heart was losing the battle ensuing in his mind.

What am I supposed to do now?

There were too many voices ringing through his mind – how was he supposed to know which one he was meant to heed?

Jaime didn't regret leaving Cersei when he had. In fact, he'd even wanted to leave her earlier: the moment he'd returned to the capital last year, still reeling from his reunion with Brienne at Riverrun, to see that his sister had crowned herself Queen of the Seven Kingdoms after burning the Sept to the ground with wildfire and thus driving their son to suicide. But even then, he still hadn't been able to stick to what he'd felt was right. He hadn't been able to set one foot out of the Red Keep's gates. Only Brienne's presence in the dragon pit a few months later had awoken him from his trance-like slumber, like an antidote to the poison that had corrupted him. But he could feel the poison slowly starting to seep back into his system even now, as he dwelled on the fate of his sister and their unborn child. He was so afraid of what would happen to Cersei and their baby if Daenerys did indeed capture her…an outcome Lady Sansa seemed so unnervingly certain of.

'I knew your sister was dead the second I saw those dragons…'

As Bronn's words from a few weeks ago rang through his ears once more, Jaime felt himself stumble and retch slightly. Pod emerged around the corner just in time to see Jaime throw up into one of the wooden buckets in the far corner of the courtyard.

'Ser Jaime!' Pod yelped, alarmed, and he grabbed Jaime by the shoulders and guided him away from any onlookers.

He sat Jaime down on one of the stone steps leading up to what remained of the battlements, and peered down at him in concern as Jaime tried to control his uneven breathing. He had gone pale white, and looked as if he might faint at any moment.

'Shall I fetch the maester?' Pod asked urgently.

Jaime looked up at Pod, but Pod seemed to be spinning before his very eyes. 'No,' he said, exhaling deeply. 'No, Pod, I'm fine. Not a word of this to Brienne, you understand?'

'But-'

'Do you understand, Pod?' Jaime asked firmly, as if he were a stern father speaking to his son.

Pod blinked rapidly, his brow creased in concern. 'Yes, milord,' he said in a small voice.

Jaime nodded heavily. He wished Pod wouldn't call him that. It only made him feel even more distant from the people he thought he'd been developing a close bond with over these past few weeks. But now that illusion was shattering.

Rising to his feet, he then clapped a hand on Pod's shoulder and trudged on back into the castle. He needed to get away from all these people. He needed to lie down. It was only when he'd nearly reached the door to his and Brienne's bedchambers that he realised he couldn't go in there, not anymore, and he collapsed against the corridor wall before sliding down to the floor, his hands clammy, his legs shaking, his breathing coming out in quick, panicked gasps as the walls seemed to close in around him.

The vivid memory of Cersei with her hand pressed gently against her stomach was all that filled his mind, no matter how hard he tried to push the image away.

She was in trouble. He'd always known that she would be in trouble, but he had been determined to escape it for as long as possible. He had been trying to forget his care for her, his vows made to her, his feeling of responsibility towards her and their unborn child…but everything he had repressed the moment he'd ridden away from King's Landing suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks now as he felt the nausea wash over him once more. He had experienced inner conflict many times during his troubled life, but never like this.

He had gone back to Cersei so many times before, unable to control the way he had always been drawn back into that deep, toxic bond with her, and he found himself feeling honour-bound to do the same now. And he hated her for it. He loved her, he always would – she was his sister, after all, his constant companion since the day of their birth – but he had never hated her more than he did in this moment.

Something always brought him back to her. Always. No matter how long it took, no matter what he said or what he did or how much he tried to escape from her shadow. Her presence followed him, even when she was hundreds of miles away. Her voice, her smell, her smirk, her hair, her cruel cutting words, everything about her. She held him down without even needing to touch him, as if she were keeping him in chains.

Just leave me alone, he wanted to scream at her. Set me free.

But she couldn't hear him, no one could. His mind was screaming hopelessly at an empty void. She reigned over him, just as she still reigned over the Seven Kingdoms…the Seven Kingdoms that she was going to destroy, unless they destroyed her first.

'You always knew exactly what she was. And you loved her anyway.'

Jaime had learnt to accommodate living with the self-loathing that had taken hold within him for many years ago now, but how could he live with the added guilt for letting Cersei die in the name of crimes he himself had played a part in, while he simply got to live on in blissful happiness with the most honourable, wonderful woman in all of Westeros? It was a fate he did not deserve.

A fate he couldn't accept.

* * *

Brienne was on the ground. The trickle of the river beside her and gentle breeze as the leaves fluttered by did nothing to make her feel at peace; being tied up with ropes often did that to you. She struggled with her knees and elbows, and roared against her gag, but it did no good. No one was walking past this secluded area of the woods. There was only her and Locke. She watched with wide fearful eyes as he stood over her and began to unbuckle his breeches, making sure to kick her as she fought to break free.

'I've been looking forward to this,' Locke said, leering down at her as she struggled against her bounds. 'The biggest bitch I'll ever have.'

'Over my dead body,' came a voice.

The sword came clashing down from out of nowhere, and Locke stumbled away in shock as he drew out his own weapon to defend himself. Jaime Lannister stood tall, fierce and proud behind him, wearing a majestic suit of armour and with both hands intact, and proceeded to swing his sword against Locke's. He fought the rotten soldier valiantly, much more impressively than he had done against Brienne on the bridge – which was saying something – and before Brienne knew what had happened, he had struck Locke's head clean off his neck. Blinking away Locke's blood that had come spurting out in the direction of her face, Brienne looked up as his headless body collapsed with a loud splash into the river beside them, and gazed in wonder up at the Kingslayer. He was different somehow, and not just by still having two hands or by the impressive armour he wore…he held himself more strongly, his head was held high, his hair was luscious and wavy, his beard finely cropped, his face clean and handsome. And suddenly Brienne knew why all the women in Westeros desired him.

Jaime bent down to the ground and gently untied her from the ropes that Locke had bound her in. His fingers lingered against her skin as he removed the gag from around her mouth, but strangely she didn't mind. Straightening up, he then held out his hand; Brienne gladly took it, and as his fingers clasped hers she felt as if she never wanted to let go. Jaime pulled her up to her feet, a tender gaze of concern in his eyes quite unlike the expression of repulsion that he'd normally greet her with, and then, to her astonishment, he picked her up in his arms, carrying her as a husband would carry a bride.

Brienne yelped out in shock, mortified – she was far too big for him, after all – and yet when she looked down into the gentle ripples of the river beside them, she was met with a surprising sight. The woman reflected in the waters had hair that fell in gentle waves to her shoulders, her face was daintier somewhat, the features more feminine, her armour was shapely and complimented her slim curvaceous figure…which somehow suddenly matched the height and size of Jaime's own. She looked magnificent, held there in his arms, just as he did. Together, they looked glorious. They looked unbeatable. Perhaps they were.

'Ser Brienne, my dear lady, are you all right?' Jaime asked as he gazed down at her.

'I'm fine,' Brienne replied breathlessly, but then she frowned. 'Wait, 'Ser'?'

Jaime gave her a confused look, an expression she found almost adorable on him, even though it shouldn't suit him.

And then she woke up.

Blinking rapidly, her cheeks colouring, Brienne sat and reached up instantly to feel her hair and clothes – her hair was still short and greasy, her clothes nothing but her baggy tunic and breeches. She didn't want to check her reflection in the river close to them; what was the point?

Brienne sighed. She should have known. In most of her dreams, she was a knight.

She looked around at her surroundings. The trees and river nearby were the same as in her dream, but there was no Locke towering above her; he was at the far end of the camp, asleep along with his entourage of soldiers, aside from those who were keeping watch. Jaime lay on the ground close beside her, but she didn't realise that he had stirred awake.

'Bad dreams, my lady?' Jaime grumbled, as he propped himself up against the log he'd been sleeping against to face her.

Flustered, Brienne looked up at him; his hair was lank and greasy and caked in mud and dirt, his beard just the same, his face bruised and bloody, his skin pale and haggard, his clothing mere dirty rags. He couldn't look more different from the man who had come to her rescue in her dream, and yet somehow she could still see that man.

'Oh, leave me alone,' Brienne muttered, infuriated.

Jaime looked exasperated. 'What have I done now?!'

She cursed under her breath but then noticed the pus leaking out from under the bandage wrapped around his stump.

'Sit up,' Brienne said, frowning. 'I need to take a look at that.'

Jaime obliged, through groaned as he sat up and leant against the log. Brienne moved over towards him. Close to, he looked particularly pale and clammy, and more exhausted than even she probably did. As she reached out grudgingly and took his stump in her hands to examine the dressing, Jaime tilted his head at her.

'Out of interest, are you practiced in nursing, Lady Brienne?' he asked.

'No.'

The faintest of smiles appeared on his lips. 'Do you know what you're doing?'

'Not in the slightest,' Brienne muttered, as she re-dressed his stump.

Jaime scoffed. 'Do you care?'

Her face faltered and her lips moved but no words came out, because she had none.

The weak smirk on Jaime's face disappeared. 'Oh. You hesitated. Does this mean you're beginning to…warm towards me a little?' he said bemusedly, surprised. 'Because I couldn't help but get the feeling that you resented me somewhat when we first met. Not sure, I could be wrong, it was just a little hunch…'

Brienne gave him a dry look. 'Can you blame me?' she muttered, and his lips twitched.

'No, not really.'

She eyed him anxiously; she didn't like the way his head was lolling slightly, or how he was slouched so unsteadily against the log. He looked like he might faint at any moment. Reaching a tentative hand out, Brienne felt his forehead.

Jaime recoiled at once. 'Your hands are sweaty,' he protested in disgust.

'And you're boiling up,' Brienne snapped. 'How are you feeling?'

'Like I've just won a grand tourney for my King and I'm being showered with roses and cheers of praise from all the great lords and ladies of Westeros,' Jaime said sarcastically, and he raised his eyebrows at her. 'What do you think?'

Brienne rolled her eyes. 'I meant your head,' she said irritably. 'You're very pale.'

Jaime sighed heavily. 'I'm guessing it's the infection finally doing its work. The loss of blood doesn't really help, does it?'

'Are you dizzy?' Brienne asked.

'Yes,' Jaime admitted after a slight hesitation.

He realised that he didn't need to pretend in front of her, nor did he want to. He looked up and saw that her concern had softened her expression somewhat. He found it astonishing just how much less homely she looked when she didn't appear to be in such a foul mood.

Brienne's eyes were almost full of pity. 'You won't last long with it like this.'

'We've both known that for a number of days now,' Jaime murmured, looking down at his lap as he breathed deeply, trying to concentrate on remaining conscious.

A short silence fell between them. Brienne found herself feeling inexplicably guilty as she watched him.

'You should have just let them take me,' she muttered irritably, avoiding his eye contact as she gathered up his old bandage to dispose of.

Jaime looked almost insulted by her words. 'What, in the bush? Just let them beat you to a pulp and push their cocks in and out of you relentlessly for the entire night?' he demanded sharply.

'Yes,' Brienne growled, just as roughly, as she turned to face him.

Jaime glared furiously back at her. 'And if it had been me, in your position. Would you have let them do it?'

Brienne's lips parted slightly, stunned, as their eyes burned into each other's. In the silence that followed as they continued to glare at each other, their faces inches from touching, Brienne realised that she couldn't say yes.

'Right, that's enough!'

Jaime and Brienne quickly leaned away from each other at the sound of Locke's voice; they hadn't even noticed that he and his men had also arisen at the other side of the camp.

'We need to get going, save your lover's quarrel for another fucking day,' Locke snarled over at them, and his men laughed.

Infuriated, Brienne got up to her feet and went over to saddle her horse. It became quickly apparent that Jaime was too weak to get up onto his own; she reluctantly went over to help him. Jaime clutched onto his reigns with his one hand desperately, afraid he might fall, and as they all set off to ride through the woods, he felt the shame and bitterness wash over him once more.

He couldn't even get on a horse now without help, and from a woman as well. The loss of his hand had robbed him of even the simplest things like that, let alone the skills he was most renowned for, the one talent he was proud of. He had accepted long ago that he would have no wife, no children, no heir. His sword was all he'd had. But without a hand to wield it…

I should just let myself fall from the horse now and be done with it, Jaime thought tiredly.

But then, to his utmost frustration, he heard Brienne's words ringing through his ears…'You can't give up. You need to live.'

And so on he rode, diligently following Locke's directions as they made their way towards Harrenhal, where he so dearly hoped a maester would be waiting for him. As the dizziness threatened to overcome Jaime, and his posture became weaker, his words slurred and faint, Locke began to question his men about whether they had gotten him drunk for a prank. But Brienne knew better. She wasn't highly knowledgeable about such matters, but she knew this was the result of his stump's infection, and without treatment soon, Jaime wouldn't have long to live.

As she trotted alongside Jaime on her horse, keeping a close eye on him, she found herself wondering if perhaps she did care after all, as much as she would continue to pretend otherwise. There had been something in his gaze earlier this morning when he'd looked at her while she'd redressed the bandage on his stump. She'd seen it clearly then in those sad eyes of his, eyes that had seen things she could never quite imagine…she'd seen just how much he was hiding, how afraid he was to come out of the dark. It was then when she realised that she was now willing to help guide him out herself, no matter how hard it would be. He may be the Kingslayer, but he had also lost his sword hand in defending her honour and saved her from a brutal rape, and for some reason…he mattered to her. And she suspected that she mattered to him as well, even if just a little bit. After all, the two of them had silently allied; there was no denying that anymore, as much as they both wanted to. Despite them still chipping away at each other, they had built something between them that seemed almost like friendship…only neither of them had ever really had a friend, so how were they to know?

Later that day when they finally arrived at the looming, dreary fortress of Harrenhal and the gates opened, Brienne felt herself fill with both relief and trepidation. She rode through into the courtyard after Locke with an air of confidence, but quickly glanced back the moment they had entered the castle's courtyard to check on Jaime; he was lagging behind on his own horse, and his head was drooping. He looked to be on the brink of collapse.

Jaime barely even noticed as he and Brienne were forced roughly down to the ground from their horses, still tightly bound in ropes.

'Lord Bolton,' Locke said smugly, as a tall, formidable man approached them, and Locke gave Jaime a rough kick. 'I give you the Kingslayer.'

Jaime's face hit the ground. He let out a groan, but couldn't seem to find the strength to straighten up. He would simply have to lie here on the muddy wet ground until someone took pity on him. He wondered if Brienne would help.

To his surprise, it was Lord Bolton who first spoke up. 'Pick him up, Locke,' he ordered.

Locke and his men reluctantly grabbed Jaime and hoisted him up. Brienne watched their new host carefully, her brow furrowed in suspicion, as Roose Bolton looked Jaime up and down.

'You've lost a hand,' he noted.

'No, my lord,' Locke said with a chuckle, and he held out Jaime's severed rotting hand hung around his neck. 'He has it here.'

Brienne looked around at Locke; the triumphant grin on his face disgusted her. Her glare turned to Jaime, and her eyes softened somewhat as she took in his drooping eyes, his deep breathing, the mud dripping from his dirty face and hair. He had never looked more broken.

Bolton stepped forward and yanked the hand from Jaime's neck; he shoved it at Locke. 'Take this away,' he ordered, repulsed.

'Send it to his father!' Locke suggested gleefully.

'You'll hold your tongue unless you want to lose it!' Bolton snapped, and Locke fell silent as Bolton turned to Brienne. 'Cut her free. Apologies, my lady. You're under my protection now.'

Jaime felt a strange wave of relief wash over him at Bolton's words as Locke's men cut Brienne free from her ropes.

'Thank you, my lord,' she said curtly, rising to her feet.

Bolton nodded at her and turned back to face Jaime. He gave the pitiful man a long, hard look before speaking again.

'Find suitable rooms for our guests. We'll speak later,' he said, casting Jaime another look as he turned to leave.

But then, to both Brienne and Roose Bolton's surprise, Jaime spoke up. 'Lord Bolton,' he murmured weakly, his voice barely more than a whisper, and Bolton halted in his tracks. 'Is there word from the capital?'

Bolton raised his eyebrows at him. 'You haven't heard?'

Brienne looked from Jaime to Lord Bolton in horror. She didn't like the tone in his voice. She could practically feel the terror racing through Jaime right now as they both waited anxiously for Bolton to elaborate.

'Stannis Baratheon laid siege to King's Landing…sailed into Blackwater Bay…stormed the gates with thousands of men,' Bolton replied, and Jaime felt his eyes widen fearfully. 'And your sister…'

His voice broke on the last word, as if filled with dread, and Brienne almost knew for sure then – this wasn't going to be good news. She glanced warily to the side to see how Jaime was coping, but it was hard to tell with all that hair and mud covering his face.

Bolton took a few steps towards Jaime. 'How can I put this?' he said, his gaze pitiful as Jaime looked at him, terrified, his heart racing in panic. 'Your sister…-'

Whether he deserved such pain or not, Brienne felt awful for him in this moment; as if Jaime hadn't been through enough with his hand. She watched as Jaime's lips quivered and he waited with baited breath and tear-filled eyes for Bolton to relay the news.

'-is alive and well,' Bolton then finished, and Brienne blinked rapidly, astonished, as Jaime let out a few shaky breaths, hardly daring to believe it. 'Your father's forces prevailed.'

Knees buckling, Jaime then collapsed to the ground with relief, his breathing still shaky as he clutched hold of Bolton. Brienne's lips parted as she watched him in shock. She had never seen, nor ever expected to see, this side of Jaime before. She knew the truth about Jaime and his sister's incestuous relationship – he hadn't even tried to hide it when speaking about Cersei to Brienne on their travels – but she hadn't realised the extent of how much Cersei meant to him until this moment, as she watched him sink to his knees, overcome with emotion. He truly was utterly devoted to her. It was then when Brienne knew that Jaime had truly meant what he'd said to her by the campfire last night.

'I'd do anything to get back to Cersei. It's the longest I've been without her. It's like a part of me is missing.'

'Ser Jaime isn't well,' Bolton said, glaring at Locke, and Brienne rolled her eyes at the understatement. 'Take him to Qyburn.'

Brienne glared menacingly at Bolton as he turned and began to walk away. He had been taunting Jaime, he had enjoyed putting him through that pain and torture of waiting to hear of his sister's fate. She knew then that this was a cruel man, and one who was not to be crossed. Perhaps they were not as well protected now that they were here as Lord Bolton would make them believe.

The new soldiers of Bolton's from Harrenhal weren't as rough as Jaime and Brienne had been used to as they guided them through the courtyard and into the castle, though Jaime hardly noticed. However, when he realised that they were guiding Brienne away down a corridor in the opposite direction to him, he felt a surge of adrenaline rush through him. He was still weak, but the panic searing through him suddenly gave him the ability to stand and speak. He looked around anxiously and saw that Roose Bolton was walking not too far ahead of him.

'Wait, Lord Bolton, please,' Jaime murmured faintly, forcing himself up to his feet and shrugging the men's hold off him. 'Where are you taking her?'

Roose Bolton turned and frowned at his new guest, confused. He'd thought it had only been his sister Cersei that Jaime cared for, and perhaps his father and brother. But his captor? That was a turn of events that Bolton had certainly not been expecting.

'She will be fine,' Bolton said simply.

'She will not be fine while Locke and his gang of rapists are prowling the halls,' Jaime insisted, though his knees buckled slightly as he tried to remain upright. 'We stay together.'

'You do as I bid you,' Bolton said sternly, glaring down at the feeble, dirty, broken remains of the man before him. 'Lady Brienne will be safe, Ser Jaime, I guarantee it.'

Jaime swallowed uncomfortably as he looked around and exchanged a glance with Brienne, stood over at the far end of the corridor with the other soldiers. She nodded at him; he needed that stump seeing to immediately. She watched as Jaime let himself be taken away, his feet struggling to maintain a firm grip on the castle floor, before she turned away and was escorted to her own chambers.

Once the soldiers had left, Brienne bolted the door and collapsed onto the bed, allowing herself to fall asleep. It had been the first time that she had slept properly for weeks. Locked away in this room, away from Locke and his men, she felt almost safe. She wasn't sure how long she had been resting – possibly an hour, maybe two or three – when the knock at the door came. She reluctantly got out of bed and opened it to reveal an older man dressed in dark frayed robes.

'Forgive the intrusion, Lady Brienne,' he said politely, 'the Kingslayer – pardon, Ser Jaime – sent me to check over your wounds.'

'I don't have wounds worth any attention. Who are you?' Brienne asked suspiciously, her hand firmly on the door in case she'd need to slam it shut.

'I'm Qyburn, my lady.'

'Oh, I see,' Brienne said, opening the door for him, and her brow creased in concern. 'How is he?'

Qyburn sighed heavily. 'He will live. I've removed most of the infected flesh, although I'm afraid it has weakened him further,' he said anxiously. 'He is in severe pain. Why do you ask?'

'He's under my protection,' Brienne replied, almost defensively.

'It must be hard…to be sworn to protect someone you despise,' Qyburn said, shaking his head at her sympathetically.

Brienne frowned. 'I don't despise him.'

'No?' Qyburn said, surprised. 'Most people do.'

'I'm not 'most people'.'

'So I can tell,' Qyburn said, and he smiled. 'I would like to examine your injuries, my lady. Or rather, Ser Jaime would like me to – he seems to be under the impression that you are under his protection just as much as he is under yours, so it seems.'

Brienne scoffed; what a ridiculous notion. 'That won't be necessary, but thank you. I can manage.'

'Very well. May you at least take my advice to clean your wounds in the bathhouse? Unless you'd like to risk infection similar to your captive's?' Qyburn asked, and Brienne managed a hint of a dry smile.

Not long after he'd left, Brienne found herself walking through the dreary remains of Harrenhal's castle as if in a trance down towards the communal bathhouse, her thoughts plagued by the infected flesh on the end of Jaime's stump. She wondered why she was so concerned for the man she had been so determined to hate. Perhaps it was because she'd seen true evidence that Jaime Lannister had a heart, after all. The way he had reacted when Roose Bolton had teased him about his sister's fate earlier still stunned her…Jaime was clearly full of love for Cersei. He had the ability to care. And yet she wasn't sure why she was so surprised by this, when he had demonstrated this himself to Brienne when he'd protected her from Locke and his men…not to mention what he had told her by the campfire only last night…

'Mark my words, if you had a brother or sister you'd put them before anything else, and your life would be ruined because of it.'

Brienne found herself hoping that those words wouldn't become true for him.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

Brienne had never been one best suited for comforting others – her talents had always laid elsewhere – and yet today, right now, she would have gladly disposed of those skills just so that she could find the right words to say, the right things to do, anything just so that Jaime could no longer be troubled. Pod had found him sat alone in one of the castle corridors a couple of hours ago, and brought him out to the courtyard to start his patrols of winter town with Brienne, but he might as well have brought out a brick wall for all the conversation she got out of him as they went about their duties.

She wasn't an idiot; she knew what – or rather, who – was pressing on his mind. She knew that he was plagued with guilt and conflicted regarding his questionable actions. And she knew that he didn't think himself good enough for anyone…but she also knew that to be very far from the truth. Jaime's mind and heart were both broken from pain of all the bad deeds he had done and his abandonment of his sister, but Brienne loved him with all these scars. She would stay beside him, no matter what he thought of himself. But something strange had happened to him this morning since she and Lady Sansa had spoken to him about the raven that had arrived. A strange sort of empty fog seemed to have enveloped around him, leaving him emotionless and distant, nothing more than a fragile echo of his usual safe. He kept his head inclined away from Brienne as they rode, as if afraid to let her see his face.

This only made Brienne more infuriated, rather than sad, as she thought of how far the two of them had come…and how a simple raven could threaten to tear it all to pieces. Love had always seemed like a cruel joke to Brienne, an impossibility, while Jaime had taken his ability to love so seriously that he'd placed it above everything else, even his own sense of morality, and had led him to do awful things. It therefore seemed ironic for them to have been pitted against one another when they had met years ago, and yet somehow, inexplicably, the connection that had formed between them had worked, and their capacity to believe once again in the goodness of love had grown into something magnificent, something magical.

And now Jaime was going to have to break the spell.

'Don't you wish you and I could just run away sometimes?' Jaime asked Brienne after a while, his tone wistful, as they rode back to Winterfell together following their patrol of the town.

Brienne merely chuckled at him sceptically. 'Run away? From what?' she said airily, trying to lighten the mood even though she knew full well what he meant.

Jaime forced a smile back. From whom.

They could run away for a million miles. Leave everything behind, simply lose themselves in each other and have faith that everything would be all right. They might feel free at last, if they did that. Free from the scandalised gossip and cruel remarks and looks. Free from the war. Free from Cersei. Free from it all. Just he and Brienne, alone and together. What could be more right, more perfect?

But she would never abandon Lady Sansa. And Jaime would never ask her to. They were both so very similar in that regard; they could never forsake their solemn vows.

It was then when Jaime was reminded of the oath he had made to Cersei merely days after he had returned Myrcella's body to her, to try and comfort her…'I swear I will never leave you…I swear to it by the old gods and the new…I will always protect you. No harm will come to you, I promise.'

Jaime swallowed uncomfortably as he glanced sideways at Brienne riding beside him, her silhouette proud and fierce and magnificent against the midday sun, her shining blonde hair flickering in the crisp cold breeze. He wondered if she knew the full extent of how his mind had been in a constant state of tug-of-war for the entire past month. He had always had a great capacity to love, more so than most; he wondered if perhaps that was why he found it so very painful. Love took and took and took from him. With Cersei it had made him cry and break and sin and make mistake after mistake. But with Brienne it had made him laugh and soar and care and try to be good. With Brienne, it had made him happy. And now he had to throw it all away.

He looked down at the reigns in his hand the moment Brienne turned to look at him, and her face fell as he avoided her attentive gaze. She wondered if part of him had been serious, suggesting running away together. If it weren't for her oath to Lady Catelyn and her pledge to Sansa, she would have taken him up on the offer gladly. She would risk it all just to be with him, for whatever life it was they would choose together. She would run away anywhere with him, just as long as he never let go. But she couldn't be sure that he would. Even after their conversation in the Godswood the other day…she couldn't be sure anymore. His expression wore nothing but doubt and worry and fear now. And it was all thanks to that stupid raven that had flown into Winterfell this morning.

Sighing heavily, Brienne then slowed her horse down and trotted over to Jaime's side; she placed her hand over his, forcing him to pull on the reigns and bring his horse to a stop as well. He glanced up at her from under his lashes, afraid of what he might see in her eyes, but saw only sympathy and love.

'Jaime…I know you're going through something,' she murmured, and Jaime closed his eyes as he gripped her gloved hand back tightly. 'The news from the raven that came this morning…it's opened a wound that was in the process of healing, and I understand. Truly, I do.'

Jaime very much doubted it, but said nothing. He doubted anyone could possibly understand. He barely did himself.

Brienne swallowed. 'But if you won't let me in, if you won't talk to me about it, then…can we just be you and me? Just for today?' she asked hopefully, and Jaime felt his heart both swell and break at the same time as he gazed at her. 'We can face the rest tomorrow, but…just for today. Just a moment for us.'

Looking at her now, he realised he had been such a fool to take her for granted for this long. He would never understand why she had done all she had done for him, or what he had done to deserve her, or how he could be the man he wanted to be for her. She was too good. Too precious. Too innocent. And he loved her all the more for it.

Why had he wasted so much time? Why hadn't he made his move and told her how he felt sooner? They could have had months, possibly even years, together. But it would always have had the same outcome. As much as he had tried to deny it to himself, Jaime had known deep down that it would end up coming to this. If he weren't so practiced at keeping up a pretence, he would have crumbled to the ground in pieces there and then, but he stayed strong. He had to. For Brienne's sake.

Jaime smiled at her as he squeezed her hand. 'I'd love nothing more,' he murmured, and he meant it.

He leaned over his horse to kiss her, and as their lips touched and Brienne smiled at him and blinked rapidly, as if fighting away tears, it felt almost as if all was right with the world again, as if they were back in the Godswood, just the two of them, with the dreams and promises of their future still ahead of them.

Perhaps he would indeed be able to treasure this day with Brienne, as she wished…for it would be the last day he would spend with her. He knew that now.

In the immediate aftermath of the battle last month, Jaime had made the decision to stay behind with Brienne here in Winterfell wholeheartedly, with every sincere intention of seeing it through. He had been trying his ultimate best; after all, he truly loved her, more than anything, and the last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her. But it was this pure, respectful love with Brienne, more so than anything, that had opened his eyes to what he had become for Cersei. Not only did he have to face Bran every day in Winterfell, a constant reminder of the worst thing he had ever done for Cersei, but his blissfully happy relationship with Brienne only made him see that his and Cersei's relationship had had not one scrap of truth to it; it had been twisted, toxic and unhealthy. She'd made him do such monstrous things, she'd allowed him to ruin himself for her. She had eaten away at him for too long, and even the acceptance and hospitality of the Starks, the family he had wronged the most, couldn't save Jaime from his own self-destruction. He'd thought that Cersei had fooled him but Tyrion was right; Jaime was the one who had been fooling himself all this time…he'd believed that Cersei had truly cared for him, he had believed that everything he had done for her was good and right…and now he had to pay the price for it.

If only that wretched raven had never come.

He was loyal to his family, that was something Jaime had always prided himself on; the sense of honour he had always clung onto throughout his life of turmoil and pain and heartache. And this was a matter of life and death, and his sister was right in the middle of it. He had to try and save her. Despite all her flaws, despite sending an assassin to kill him and his brother, despite everything she had cost him, and despite the way her control over him had led him to do things that he would spend the rest of what little remained of his life trying to forget. Even after all that, he still couldn't leave her to her death.

He could see it so clearly now, after having experienced the complete opposite with Brienne, that his relationship with Cersei had been abusive and torturous, driven solely by her ability to manipulate him into being the selfish, arrogant, driven golden lion, whose part he had always so hated playing. But their so-called love was what he had accepted…because it was the only love he had always deserved. He didn't want to go back to it. He never did. It filled his nightmares, and he certainly did not want it to return to his waking days. He had hoped to never set foot in King's Landing again. And yet he must.

Jaime didn't know what he could do. He didn't know if he could stop Cersei from retaliating in the oncoming slaughter when King's Landing would undoubtedly be sacked by the dragon queen and her brutal forces. He didn't know if he could save her and their unborn child from execution, either by the hands of Daenerys Targaryen or in the midst of battle. He didn't know what was going to happen, or where his mind would take him, or whether he would survive through it. But he had to try. For the sake of his family, for the sake of the unborn baby lying in Cersei's womb, for the sake of his honour and the vow he'd pledged to his sister, for the sake of all the innocent people of King's Landing who would soon be caught up in the chaos he had helped create…and for the sake of Brienne, whose life would always be in danger for as long as Cersei was in power. He had to try.

Chapter Text

It was with a heavy air of reluctance that Brienne knocked on the door to Lady Sansa's study that afternoon. She couldn't help feeling almost resentful towards Sansa for the cold, heartless way in which she had spoken to Jaime earlier this morning. But Brienne was practised in maintaining a cool head, and she still respected Sansa very much. She just wished that she had held her tongue when Jaime had never appeared before them in the courtyard after the raven had arrived.

'You asked to see me, my lady?' Brienne asked politely, as she entered the room.

'It's nothing important,' Sansa said, almost apologetically, as she rose from her desk. 'I was just…a little concerned about Ser Jaime, after this morning. How is he?'

Brienne looked at her; she was surprised Sansa even cared, after the way she had spoken to Jaime earlier. 'He's…putting on a brave face,' she replied hesitantly. 'Sometimes he forgets I can see through him so well.'

'Is he angry with his sister for what she's done, or afraid for her safety?' Sansa asked, watching Brienne carefully.

'Both, I think,' Brienne admitted, and her eyes lowered to the floor. 'But he…he won't talk to me about it.'

'And what about you?'

Brienne frowned, confused. 'My lady?'

Sansa tilted her head at her. 'How are you?'

There was a silence. Brienne didn't really know how to respond. She didn't know what her answer was, and Sansa could tell; she was worried that the scroll they'd received this morning had shattered the blissful paradise Jaime and Brienne had built together, and the way Brienne's face faltered at her question told Sansa all she needed to do.

'I'm fine,' Brienne replied eventually, and she forced a smile. 'I'm…carrying on.'

Sansa nodded, unsatisfied with her response. 'Perhaps you should hold off on your duties for today. Stick close to Ser Jaime instead. He'll need you, no doubt.'

'You want me to keep an eye on him, you mean.'

Sansa looked up at Brienne; the unusually disapproving tone in her voice made her feel almost ashamed of herself. 'I'm not asking you to spy on him,' she said uncomfortably. 'I know what he is to you.'

'Then what are you asking, my lady?' Brienne asked coldly.

Sansa sighed. 'Just…make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. He's her family, after all.'

'I thought you trusted him, my lady,' Brienne said, trying her hardest to hide her disappointment.

'I do. It's Cersei's hold over him that I don't trust. You shouldn't either,' Sansa said warningly, and she sighed as she watched Brienne's face fall in dismay. 'It was wrong of me to speak to him the way I did earlier, it wasn't fair. I'll apologise to him tomorrow, once I've calmed down a little. I know what happened wasn't his fault.'

And when will you apologise to me? Brienne thought bitterly, though she hated herself for thinking it.

She left Sansa not long after that, intent on finding Jaime. She wanted to spend every moment of today at his side. After all, tomorrow wasn't promised to anyone, and today's scroll had reminded them of that.

When would they run out of time? They didn't know, neither of them did. All Brienne knew was that she had to make the most of what they had left. It seemed strange that merely the other day she and Jaime had been wrapped in each other's arms in the Godswood while they planned their future together. Or had that just been a dream? Right now, as Brienne headed out into the courtyard, her mind and expression filled with anguish, she couldn't be sure.

Brienne found him busy at work in the courtyard, helping some of the smallfolk shovel a large pile of rubble away to the side. It was good to see him preoccupied.

When Jaime looked up and saw Brienne approaching, her large fur cloak billowing behind her, he felt himself go both warm and cold simultaneously. 'I was wondering where you'd got to,' he greeted, smiling at her. 'I thought we'd said we were going to spend more time with each other today.'

'I was…I was just speaking with Sansa,' Brienne said distractedly as she joined him. 'But I'm yours for the rest of the day.'

Jaime leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. 'Excellent.'

'Jaime, have you eaten today?' Brienne asked quietly, watching him in concern.

'No, I'm not hungry,' Jaime said airily, making Brienne frown, and he indicated the pile of rubble at his feet. 'Would you mind helping me with this? I could do with a hand.'

Brienne stared at him.

Jaime looked bemused. 'Th-that wasn't intentional-'

'I can't believe you just said that,' Brienne said, trying and failing not to smile.

'As far as jokes go-'

'It was terrible!'

They were both laughing, and for one wonderful moment everything else was forgotten, all the pain and guilt and regret from this morning had been tossed aside as they enjoyed the sound of each other's laughter and the way their faces lit up with joy. But then Brienne's laugh faltered as she saw the tear fall down Jaime's cheek.

Alarmed, Brienne made to step towards him. 'Jaime-'

But Jaime held a hand out to stop her and he abruptly stopped laughing. 'Please, don't. I'm fine. I'm sorry,' he murmured, and, bowing his head low, he turned his back on her and walked hurriedly out of the courtyard back into the castle.

Brienne watched him go with a lump in her throat, her lips quivering. She stood there for a few moments, frozen not just by the cold air around her but by the fear and distress that threatened to engulf her, until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked down to see that Pod had come over to her, wearing a sympathetic expression.

'Go to him,' he murmured.

Brienne gave him a shaky nod and pressed her hand gratefully over his before following Jaime into the castle. He wasn't in their chambers, nor the great hall, nor any of the usual rooms they resided in. She found him eventually in the library, a room neither of them had visited since the day of the funeral after the battle. So much had changed between them since then. It was odd that it had only been a month ago.

He was stood in a secluded corner hidden away from the doorway, his back leant against one of the bookcases as he stared down at the floor. Brienne gently closed the door and walked slowly towards him. Jaime looked up, and his expression softened at the sight of her. She could tell he had been crying but she didn't say anything. She knew he didn't want that, and she knew she didn't need to either. Instead, Brienne slowly walked up to him, until she was stood merely inches before him.

She wished he would let her in. She wished he wouldn't feel so badly damaged, when she was just as damaged as he was. All they needed to do was stay close and hold each other tight, and all would be right again. They could be there for each other, as they had been ever since the battle – way before then, even – and yet she could feel himself closing off from the world around him, as if in fear, as if in shame.

Brienne reached out to caress his hand with her own, and as she did so Jaime inclined his head up slightly so their foreheads were pressed each other's, grateful for her touch, her wordless reassurance. Brienne intertwined her fingers with his as he rubbed his nose against hers, both of them at peace and content and wishing time could just stand still.

All Brienne had ever known before Jaime was how to hold her own. She had got so used to a lonely life that she hadn't ever imagined anything different. But now she knew this, this beautiful thing between them, and she wanted to hold onto it as tightly as she could and never let go. With his hand in hers, she could forget the cold and the dark and the war, and it was just the two of them.

I wish it could always be like this, she thought, but didn't dare say.

As he caressed her fingers with his own, Jaime then leaned in and gently kissed her lips, before enveloping her in his arms and holding her close to him. When she leaned apart, he kept his arms wrapped around her waist and pressed his forehead once more against hers.

'Just us?' he murmured.

Brienne smiled tenderly and nodded. 'Just us,' she whispered.

Jaime smiled back and brought her lips back to his. He wouldn't take her for granted. He would hold her today and love her tonight…and she would never know that he was saying goodbye, that they were losing each other. That their time together was at an end.

The rest of the afternoon passed by too quickly, but for those blissful hours Jaime allowed himself to forget his woes and troubles and focus instead on the incredible woman who had brought him so much joy and made him feel valuable for the first time in his entire life. They spent their time walking around winter town and the Godswood together hand-in-hand, and when darkness fell they joined Pod for dinner in the great hall. That evening in the hall with food and drink and good company made it almost feel as if everything was normal. The troubled lovers enjoyed Pod's act of obliviousness to what was going on; they could laugh and joke and pretend that Sansa wasn't keeping a watchful eye on Jaime from the top end of the hall. Jaime was reluctant to leave the hall when the time came, knowing that he would most likely never sit at these tables again or dine on such excellent food or talk and laugh with people he considered his family now, but to put it off would only arouse suspicion.

'I'll join you later,' Jaime murmured to Brienne at the foot of the steps leading up to their bedchambers. 'There's just something I need to do.'

Brienne tried to maintain a smile on her face. 'How very mysterious,' she said, but she could tell from his expression that he wasn't going to elaborate, so blinking rapidly, she gave him a nervous nod. 'All right then…I'll see you later.'

She turned to head up the steps but Jaime then put his hand on her waist and twisted her around so that he could kiss her firmly on the lips. When they broke apart, they were both smiling.

'Don't worry,' he said soothingly to her. 'I'll be an hour at most. I'll see you soon.'

Reassured, Brienne smiled and then turned again, her face falling the moment she started walking up the steps. Jaime's expression had faltered as well, but he didn't have time to dwell on how wrong it was of him to comfort her over something she had every reason to be scared of. He turned and headed back to the library, where he'd asked Samwell Tarly to leave some materials for him earlier this afternoon.

Jaime closed the library door and crossed the room to the table where Sam had laid everything out for him; pieces of parchment, a quill and ink, and a candle. Swallowing, Jaime took a seat and smoothed his hand over the empty parchment before him.

He couldn't keep pretending, not to Brienne. He had to tell her truth, even if it meant ending the dream they had started together. Even if it meant her hating him for the rest of her life. He owed her the truth. And this was the best way in which he could do that.

Sighing, his eyes already welling up, Jaime leaned over the parchment with his quill and began to write.

'My dearest, Brienne...'

* * *

'Lord Bolton, with respect, I must beg you to reconsider. Please, Lady Brienne-'

'-Is not your wife – thank the gods, for your sake – nor your property of any kind, you utter fool,' Roose Bolton snapped, his loss of temper taking Jaime aback. 'She is our hostage here. She is Locke's reward, to do with as he likes.'

'Why?' Jaime's voice shook with rage and fear. 'They will do abhorrent things to her if she stays here with them, you know they will, and she is a noble lady of high birth, she is good, she is innocent-'

'And she is no longer your concern,' Bolton cut over him firmly, glaring up at him.

Lord Bolton had been finishing writing up his letters before departing for Edmure Tully's wedding later this morning, and had not been expecting to be disturbed in his own private quarters by a very irate cripple who had clearly lost a great deal of sleep over the matter that so dearly troubled him.

Bolton glared up at Jaime incredulously. 'Ser Jaime, you bewilder me. I don't know why you're so bothered about the great ugly cow, she was never your ally in the first place.'

'Her name is Brienne. And she has protected me,' Jaime said fiercely. 'Now I wish to do the same for her.'

'You do realise if you attempt to do that, that will mean you're directly disobeying my orders and you will therefore be imprisoned here for the rest of whatever miserable days you have left,' Bolton said simply, while Jaime's eyebrows rose further and further up his forehead in horror. 'You will not see the capital or your sister again, and your father will receive word that you are dead. He would never know.'

Jaime was outraged. This monstrous man was doing this purely to taunt Jaime, to separate him from his one friend so that Jaime knew he was well and truly alone and that Lord Bolton was in control.

Jaime banged his fist down on the table. 'You would do all that, and risk the wrath of House Lannister, just to torture me for wanting an innocent woman to be safe?' he demanded incredulously.

'Well I have to have some form of amusement, don't I?' Bolton said, and he rose to his feet with a warning look in his eyes. 'Now leave. You should be gone already.'

One of Bolton's guards stormed over and grabbed Jaime by the arm; Jaime shrugged it off bitterly and made his own way out, defeated. There was no point in continuing to argue with the man – Jaime had tried, many times, over the past few days. But it was no use. Brienne was stuck here. There was nothing he could do to help her, and he had already bid her farewell. All he could do now was try to move on and focus on returning to Cersei. That was all that had mattered to him before Locke had taken him captive after all; why should things be any different now?

Lord Bolton came out to the courtyard later that morning to bid a frosty farewell to Jaime, and also to ensure that Jaime would pass on his regards to his father. Jaime responded respectfully, knowing that there was no point in putting up any more of a fight, and, desperate to leave this ghastly place as soon as possible, soon set off out of the courtyard.

'Safe journey, Kingslayer,' Locke said, smirking, as Jaime rode on slowly towards the open gates; Jaime ignored him. 'Nothing to say? I liked you better before. I don't remember chopping your balls off, too.'

Locke's companions laughed but still Jaime ignored him. He wouldn't rise to the bait. He wouldn't let this miserable, brutish man get to him, not anymore.

But then Locke stepped towards Jaime's horse as he passed, leering at him. 'And don't you worry about your friend. We'll take good care of her,' he promised.

Jaime felt a lump rise in his throat and he considered a retort, but it wasn't able to leave his mouth. Your friend. Brienne was his friend. That prospect would have once repulsed Jaime, but things were different now.

There was a bad taste in his mouth as Jaime and his entourage of Bolton's men assigned to his journey back south quickened their pace and rode away from Harrenhal. He had been so desperate to leave Locke and his troubles on the road behind him, to be on his way back to Cersei…so why did he feel so terrible?

The hours slowly passed, and with each corner they took and each hill they rode over, Jaime felt steadily worse. Not even the stinging pain in his stump as he struggled to control the reigns of his horse could distract him from his endless worrying.

Seven hells, what has become of me?

He'd always thought that he'd been so tough and had a knack for being able to leave people behind without a care in the world, for all that mattered was himself and his family. So why was it that whenever his mind drifted as they rode through the hilltops, all he could think about was the awkward tall blonde woman locked up in that depressing cell back at Harrenhal?

They came to stop later that afternoon to water the horses and for Qyburn to redress Jaime's stump. As Qyburn delicately put a new bandage on the ugly, gnarled stump at the end of Jaime's arm, the two newfound allies talked about Qyburn's history as a maester, while Jaime tried desperately to ignore Locke's taunting words from before ringing in his ears.

But then he realised he couldn't help himself. No matter how hard he wanted to try and forget her and put everything that had happened behind him, he just couldn't let it go.

'You were in charge of the ravens at Harrenhal,' Jaime said tentatively, as Qyburn adjusted the sling around Jaime's arm. 'Did you…did you get a bird off to Brienne's father in Tarth?'

'A bird flew off and a bird flew back. Lord Selwyn Tarth offered 300 gold dragons for his daughter's safe return,' Qyburn replied, as Jaime looked over the fresh bandages wrapped around his stump.

Jaime raised his eyebrows, relieved. 'A fair offer,' he said, rising to his feet to lead the way back over to his horse.

'A fair offer,' Qyburn agreed, 'but Locke won't take it.'

Jaime stopped walking and turned back to him, horrified. 'Why not?' he asked, perplexed.

'He's convinced Lord Tarth owns all the sapphire mines in Westeros,' Qyburn explained, and Jaime groaned in dismay. 'He feels he's being cheated.'

Jaime stared at the grass, guilt-ridden.

'They call it the Sapphire Isle, do you know why? Every sapphire in Westeros was mined on Tarth…Lord Selwyn would pay his daughter's weight in sapphires if she's returned to him. But only if she's alive. Her honour…unbesmirched.'

Those words had cost him his sword hand. And now his lie to protect her had inadvertently placed her in greater danger.

'They'd be fools to kill her,' Jaime said with a frown, his tone hopeful for Qyburn to confirm that he was right.

But Qyburn had a sorrowful expression on his face as he packed away his medical supplies. 'These men have been at war a long time. Most of them will be dead by winter. She'll be their entertainment tonight,' he said, and Jaime looked at him, his expression scrunched up in protest and fear. 'Beyond tonight…I don't think they care very much.'

Deep in thought, Jaime stared back at the ground, seeing nothing as Qyburn's words resonated with him, his heart beating a dreaded drumbeat against his chest.

He exhaled shakily as birds began chirping away in the sky above him, birds that were free to fly wherever they wanted, birds that could reach King's Landing within a matter of days. He looked around desperately to the south end of the hills that surrounded them, where the kingsroad heading towards the capital lay not far ahead.

She's waiting for you. Cersei. Home. You're finally free to go back to her. The sooner you get a move on, the sooner you'll be reunited with her.

His expression torn in anguish, Jaime looked back to the opposite direction, where Harrenhal stood a considerable few hours' ride away. He thought of Brienne, the irritating honourable Brienne, in that stupid pink dress and with that stupid scowl. He thought of her animalistic screams that night they'd taken her into the bushes. He thought of the way she had looked after him in Qyburn's quarters after their eventful bath. He thought of the way she'd gazed at him as he'd left her in that cell in the castle.

He so dearly wanted to just not care, but it was hopeless. The world had always been against him; it had brought him pain and misery and anger, it had forced him on journeys that had left him scarred for life…and yet Brienne of Tarth had begun to heal those scars. He had learned things from her, things that had changed him and that he knew would guide him for the rest of his days. He could hear her stubborn voice, quiet yet persistent, in his head, drawing him back to her. He couldn't fight against it any longer. He wouldn't. He had to go back for her.

He hadn't given up his sword hand for nothing, after all.

Turning his back on the path that led south, Jaime then strode purposefully over to Steelshanks, who was taking a large swig of his drink before they resumed their ride to the capital.

'We have to return to Harrenhal,' Jaime said decisively, once he had reached Steelshanks.

Steelshanks looked at Jaime, unimpressed. 'Why?'

'I've left something behind,' Jaime replied.

I should never have left her there in the first place, Jaime thought fiercely.

'Absolutely not,' Steelshanks said firmly. 'I've got orders from Lord Bolton.'

'And what are those orders?' Jaime asked.

'To deliver you to your father at King's Landing.'

Jaime eyed him carefully, and frowned in understanding. 'You think you'll get a reward.'

Steelshanks rose slowly to his feet. 'I serve Lord Bolton,' he said calmly. 'Any appreciation your father-'

'You think you're getting a reward,' Jaime cut over him sharply; he couldn't afford to waste any time with this man. 'Let me explain something to you – when my father sees me, the first thing he's going to ask is what happened to my hand. And I'm going to tell him this man chopped it off.'

Steelshanks' eyes widened in horror. 'I had nothing-!'

'Or I could tell him this man saved my life,' Jaime interrupted, and he raised his eyebrows pointedly at Steelshanks. 'We return to Harrenhal. Now.'

Qyburn and all Bolton's men looked confused, and some even irritated, by Steelshanks' order to ride back at Jaime's request, but the look in Jaime's eyes made it clear that there was no arguing on the matter. Jaime led the charge back at a rushed pace, and he suddenly found a new strength holding onto his reigns with one hand despite his fragile state, perhaps due to the determination and desperation raging through him. The sooner they got to Harrenhal the better, and he didn't mind if Steelshanks and the rest of the men couldn't catch up with him. Suddenly nothing else mattered to him but rescuing Brienne from that hellhole.

As they all galloped back through the grassy fields, Qyburn called after Jaime as he tried to catch up with him; Jaime reluctantly slowed his pace momentarily so that Qyburn could speak.

'Ser Jaime, I hesitate to say it but I must agree with Steelshanks,' Qyburn said anxiously as they rode on. 'I don't see what good this could do – it's most likely too late. Besides, you don't need Lady Brienne.'

Jaime frowned; he had never known anything less true. 'You don't know her.'

'No, but I do know you're no longer tied to her,' Qyburn pointed out, making Jaime turn away irritably as he encouraged his horse on. 'Your business with her is concluded, she's nothing.'

'She is not nothing,' Jaime snapped. 'I swore a solemn vow to Catelyn Stark that I would release her daughters into Lady Brienne's care, and that is what I will do.'

'You can send the Stark girls back to their mother without Lady Brienne's help-'

'I'm not abandoning her there. I'm not doing it.' He couldn't live with himself if he did.

'I thought you were desperate to get back to King's Landing. By doing this, you're only delaying your return there even more,' Qyburn said incredulously. 'Is she really worth it?'

Jaime paused as they rode on, pondering Qyburn's expression. He remembered how Brienne had defended him with Locke…how she'd tended to him after he'd fainted in the bath…how she'd called him 'Ser Jaime' when bidding farewell. He realised he had no choice in the matter; Brienne was a part of his life now, whether he liked it or not.

'Yes,' Jaime realised, and he sounded surprised but firm when he said it, his expression determined. 'She is.'

* * *

~ Present Day ~

When Pod entered the library, he looked intrigued but also wary; he was never normally needed by anyone after the evening meal. In fact, he'd even been hoping to take Lady Sansa out for an evening stroll around the grounds, if she wanted…but he could tell from the look on Jaime's face as he sat by the hearth that that was not going to be possible.

'Thank you for coming, Pod. Please, sit,' Jaime said warmly, gesturing the seat opposite him.

Confused, Pod took his allocated seat and looked at Jaime expectantly. What could this possibly be about?

Jaime took a deep breath; he looked deeply uncomfortable, as if this had been something he'd been dreading for quite some time.

'Pod. I need you to do something for me,' Jaime said heavily. 'I'm entrusting you and only you with this because I believe – no, I know – you will remain true to your word.'

'Of course I will, milord, but…what about Ser Brienne?' Pod asked, perplexed, and Jaime's face faltered.

'This concerns Brienne.'

Pod's lips parted in understanding and felt himself tense up, suddenly uneasy.

Jaime sighed. 'We're at war. And this one is close to its end…and we don't know what will happen. We think we're safe up here in the North now but we don't know that for sure. So…I thought I should make plans for…in case I don't survive it,' he said awkwardly, and Pod scoffed sceptically.

'I doubt that will happen very much, milord.'

'Still…I like to be prepared,' Jaime said amicably. 'I'm not particularly well-known for making the right decisions, but this, this is something I know is right.'

He was holding out a sealed scroll in his hand. Pod tilted his head at him.

'A letter? Would you like me to send it to someone, milord?' he asked.

'Brienne,' Jaime replied. 'But only when the time is right.'

'Brienne?' Pod said, frowning.

'In the event of my death. Should it…happen.'

Pod's expression had suddenly turned rather frosty as he watched Jaime carefully. 'You sound as if it's a certainty that it will, milord.'

'Not a certainty,' Jaime muttered, avoiding his eye contact. 'But…I won't lie…it's possible. Probable, perhaps.'

A short silence fell between them as the fire crackled away.

'You're leaving. Aren't you?' Pod's strangled voice was what gave away how deeply upset he was.

Jaime didn't answer. He didn't have to. Pod wasn't an idiot, after all.

He looked down, ashamed. 'Give it a couple of months or so, maybe longer, I'll leave it up to you to decide. Once she's had time to…come to terms with it, if it happens. I don't want her hating me when she reads this.'

'Forgive me for speaking out of turn, milord,' Pod said, his voice sounding angry now, 'but the way you're speaking makes me think Ser Brienne will definitely hate you regardless.'

Jaime nodded, his lips quivering slightly at the thought. 'You speak true, and you have every right to do so. But…if there's ever a chance she can forgive me, I very much wish that she would read this. Promise me you'll give it to her, Pod.'

Pod hesitated. 'I promise,' he said eventually.

Relieved, Jaime leant over and passed the sealed scroll to Pod. Pod took it reluctantly, and to Jaime's astonishment he noticed that Pod's eyes were wet. He felt rather touched.

'When – if – the time arises when you should give it to Brienne, please…tell her that I was trying to protect her. And tell her that I'm sorry. More so than she can ever imagine,' Jaime said, trying to keep it together.

'Ser Jaime, what do you plan on doing?' Pod asked, his expression torn in desperation.

'I…I don't know,' Jaime replied helplessly. 'It probably won't work, but I have to try. For my family, and for King's Landing.'

Pod frowned doubtfully. 'I'm not sure how comfortable I feel with this, milord. I'm bad at keeping secrets from Ser Brienne, she can read me very well.'

'It'll only be for a few hours, and you won't even see her,' Jaime reassured him. 'I'll be gone in the morning, and she'll need your support when she wakes.'

'You don't plan on even saying goodbye to her?' Pod asked sharply, outraged.

Jaime gazed at him beseechingly. 'If I do that, she'll try to stop me. Trust me, I'd have to treat her even more despicably than I am doing now by leaving without saying farewell, if I were forced to make her let me go if she knew my plans.'

'How can you do that to her?!' Pod demanded, feeling a sudden urge to throw the scroll Jaime had given him into the fire. 'I'm sorry, Ser Jaime, I mean no disrespect, but she'll be devastated-!'

'Do you think I don't know that? Do you think I won't be even more devastated by what I'm going to do?' Jaime said loudly, and he sighed as he leant back in his chair and clasped his hand to his face. 'I wanted to be good. I tried to be better. I tried to be the man she deserves, but…' He shook his head miserably. 'Do you know what the worst part is, Pod?'

There was a silence. Pod could only watch him with both pity and disappointment.

'That I love her. More than anything. More than my own life,' Jaime said, his voice breaking. 'But I have to break her heart in order to do the right thing.'

'Are you sure it's the right thing, milord?' Pod asked, wishing there was a way he could stop him.

Jaime raised his eyes helplessly to the ceiling. 'Is saving lives ever not the right thing? I have to be true to myself. I have to do what needs to be done,' he said earnestly. 'Cersei is my responsibility – I led her to this, I let her…manipulate me into doing all she needed for her to get to where she is now. I need to get her out of the capital, away from the danger and away from all the people she'll end up getting killed if this war continues.'

'I should stop you,' Pod said in a tremoring voice, looking both angry and afraid. 'On behalf of Lady Sansa, let alone Brienne, I should stop you. I should fight you.'

'Yes, you should. You'd probably beat me as well,' Jaime muttered, and he raised his eyebrows at him challengingly; they both knew Pod would never want to take up arms against Jaime, not when they had become friends.

Pod sighed in defeat. 'Do you really think you'll manage to convince your sister to give up the throne? To just…leave King's Landing?' he asked cynically.

'I've got to try. I've got to do something,' Jaime said desperately. 'I think Brienne will understand it, eventually. Help her to, if you can.'

'I'll try,' Pod said in a small voice, looking forlorn. 'I just wish it didn't have to be this way.'

'Me neither, Pod. Me neither,' Jaime said heavily and he rose to his feet. 'You're a good man. You're kind and loyal…and a tremendous fighter.'

Pod got up from his chair as well. 'I wouldn't be if it weren't for Ser Brienne.'

'Look after her for me. If I don't come back,' Jaime said, his voice quiet and pleading. 'Be there for her and…make sure she finds happiness with someone far more worthy than myself. She deserves only the very best.'

Pod nodded thoughtfully as Jaime began to walk away, but then spoke up. 'You may think that, Ser Jaime. But you're the one she chose,' he said, and Jaime stopped and turned back around to face him. 'You're the one she thinks she deserves. She clearly doesn't think you're as bad as all you make yourself out to be. And nor do I.'

Only the quiver of his eyes and lips betrayed how deeply moved Jaime was by Pod's statement…at least until he then crossed the room back towards him and hugged Pod. 'Thank you for that,' he said, clapping Pod on the shoulder as he broke free from him.

He turned to leave the library, wiping away a stray tear, but then turned back to Pod, who looked equally as tearful.

'Pod, when you see Brienne tomorrow, tell her I…tell her…' But he trailed off and shook his head. 'Oh, she knows.'

But she wouldn't know after tonight. She'd wake up to find his side of the bed empty, and she would doubt everything she thought she'd known during their past month together. He only had tonight to convince her that their love was real.

The castle was quiet when Jaime made his way up to their bedchambers; people must have retired to bed early. When he entered the room, he saw that Brienne had fallen asleep in her bedrobe on a chair by the hearth where a fire was blazing. She looked so peaceful, so content. When he shut the door, she stirred awake, and smiled hopefully at him as she rose to her feet. She hadn't tied her bedrobe properly, so there was a gap running down below her thigh. She really did have the most astonishingly long legs.

'Is everything all right?' Brienne asked breathlessly.

She knew it was a stupid question, but she needed him to reassure her. She had been so worried this past hour while he had been gone.

A lump rose to his throat, but Jaime smiled. 'It is now,' he murmured, crossing the room towards her.

He took her in his arms and kissed her as if he were a drowned man desperately seeking air. He shrugged his jacket off and walked her backwards towards the bed while she slipped off her bedrobe and fumbled to remove the rest of his clothes. Brienne was caught off guard by his intensity but enjoyed it; he'd never been more passionate, nor as loving, as he slowly caressed her skin with his lips and hands. They wrapped their arms around each other under the fur covers of the bed, and Brienne whispered his name like a prayer as he kissed and cherished every inch of her with a desperate hunger, as if trying to commit every part of her face and body to his memory.

Afterwards, he rested his forehead against Brienne's and pressed his tearful eyes shut in anguish as he held her close to him. They remained tangled in their embrace for quite some time, Brienne stroking his greying beard as he caressed her bare waist and gazed lovingly into her eyes. He didn't want her to go to sleep. Once she was asleep, then that was it and there was no more putting it off. But Brienne was unaware of this, and desperately tired.

Once she'd got up to wash herself and then put more wood on the fire, she yawned as she turned back to the bed. 'I think I might go to sleep now,' she said, getting back under the covers and nuzzling against him.

Jaime nodded slowly, wishing she wouldn't. 'You mean the world to me, you know,' he murmured, unable to look at her as he wrapped her tightly in his arms.

She nearly asked him what had brought such a statement on, but deep down she already knew the answer, so instead Brienne simply said in a fond tone, 'I know.'

She turned to face him and pressed her lips tenderly against his, her hand stroking his cheek.

Our last kiss, Jaime thought in anguish.

'Goodnight, Jaime,' Brienne murmured, her eyes already drooping as she rested her head against the pillow.

'Goodnight, my love,' Jaime whispered after a few moments.

But she'd already fallen asleep before she could hear him. Perhaps that was for the best.

In the eye of the storm raging through his mind, there was then a moment of quiet. A strange feeling of peace settled over him. As time steadily crept by, Jaime even almost fell asleep in Brienne's arms but managed to resist, and instead dwelled over his predicament, for what else was there left to do before he must leave?

He had made many mistakes. He had felt shame greater than most. And yet now here he was, lying awake, knowing that what he did tonight would be what history and the people he loved would forever remember him for. He felt dismayed at the mere thought, and yet he knew what must be done, no matter how distraught he was, no matter how full of regret he may be, no matter how driven he was by hatred.

Finally, Jaime slowly sat up in bed, being sure not to wake Brienne as he gently untangled his arms from around her. He watched her for a while as she slept and listened to the even rhythm of her breathing. He smiled as she let out a sigh of contentment when he stroked her arm with a trembling finger. Reluctantly, he then pulled away and forced himself out of the bed.

His clothes were scattered messily on the floor from when Brienne had undressed him; he quickly put them on, but quietly, and then forced the golden hand onto his right wrist. A tear trickled down his cheek, but he barely noticed as he checked his satchel, making sure it still contained the food, drink and other supplies he had acquired for his journey earlier today. Once he was ready, he sat down heavily on the chair at the foot of their bed and stared gloomily at the glowing pile of embers in the hearth. It was still warm in the room, and yet Jaime was shivering all over.

Pod's words from before were filling him with doubt. Was he sure he was doing the right thing? He had never felt more full of doubt and turmoil than he did in this very moment, the moment where he had to decide, the moment that would change everything. When he'd come to Winterfell, he'd thought that he would be killed in battle, and suddenly right now as he stared into the dying fire embers he wished he had been; death would have been easier than being faced with this choice. Not that he had much of one.

Brienne was his choice. But Cersei was his obligation.

He wondered how this had ever come to be. He could remember the way he'd felt when he and Brienne had looked upon each other for the first time in disgust that night they'd met. He could still hear Catelyn Stark's words vividly in his ear.

'You are no knight. You have forsaken every vow you ever took.'…'She is a truer knight than you will ever be, Kingslayer.'

He hated himself more right now than he had done even then, locked up in chains and left alone to ponder his sins for over a year.

Jaime swallowed loudly as the wind continued to howl outside just like the ferocious storm in his mind. He should never have let himself fall in love with Brienne, or her with him. He should never have stayed with her here in Winterfell. But he'd been selfish and had tricked himself into thinking that he could be successful in this alternative life, allowing himself to carry on daydreaming in this blissfully happy fantasy world that he had been living in with her for too long. But he was bound by his code of honour, and by his unbreakable bond with the mother of his child. He wished he wasn't the man he was, but there was nothing he could do to fight against this. He could no longer ignore his unwavering loyalty to his family. And he could no longer ignore the self-loathing that was pushing him back to his sister, his hatred for everything he had done wrong in his life. He was utterly helpless and had never felt more defeated in his life.

'You really do love her. You poor fool. She'll be the end of you…She's a disease.'

Olenna Tyrell had been right. Jaime regretted more so than anyone his part in spreading the disease of Cersei Lannister, and yet he couldn't break the addiction, he couldn't find a cure. It had been going on far too long for that. He had been given a chance at happiness and a different life from the terrible one he had always known, and yet he couldn't take it. Because he couldn't escape her. Cersei had mistreated him and abused him for years without him realising it, and yet even now he couldn't betray her. She kept clinging onto him and now he had no pride or dignity left. Whether it was right or wrong, he knew she needed him. And she was his family, and pregnant with his child. What else was he to do?

He slowly turned to look back at Brienne and remembered how proud he had felt going back to rescue her from certain death at Harrenhal. Whereas now, with Cersei? It was a similar situation, and yet he felt nothing but shame. His gaze filled with tears once more as he watched her sleeping, completely oblivious to what he was about to do to her. He felt his chest tighten as he thought of Brienne waking in the cold morning to find his space in the bed empty and his clothes gone…with no explanation. But he couldn't wake her now and he couldn't tell her. It would only make this harder, and she would never let him go on his own. He couldn't risk saying goodbye; it would be too dangerous for her if she followed him.

Would he be able to make it and come back to her once he had secured the safety of his sister and baby? Would he ever see Brienne again? Would she even want to see him? Or would this be truly it? The end of their story…

In another life, or a different world perhaps – one where he had been stronger, one where Cersei had not been pregnant, one where he had able to fight against the addictive pull of his sister – he would have stayed with Brienne. She was the embodiment of everything a pure, innocent love ought to be. What he had with her was wonderful; they had been through so much together, and he had been so happy and carefree being with her this past month. He had been overwhelmed with joy, a joy bursting from him just like when Myrcella had told Jaime that she had been glad he was her father…but the joy had been ripped from him – just like when Myrcella had died in his arms – the moment Sansa told him of Cersei's imminent, inevitable fate.

And duty came first before everything. Even love.

Jaime took one last look at Brienne sleeping on the bed, the woman he knew he would always love, even long after he was gone, and yet she would never know it herself. He wished he was worthy of her. He wished he could meet his end in the way he had always wanted, in her arms as an old man, rather than the gruesome demise he would no doubt meet if his plan were to fail. He wished he didn't have to do this. He wished he deserved something better. But he didn't. He deserved nothing different than what Cersei was going to get.

Slowly, Jaime turned away from Brienne and got up from his seat. He felt almost dizzy as he slowly walked across the room, and realised in that moment that he simply couldn't go on without her. Not now, not after everything they had been through together. He had tried living without Brienne since they had met, and he had struggled. But by choosing to leave this room, he was choosing that very life he had hated, a life he never wanted again. And he was no longer himself by choosing that life. He could feel himself withdrawing further in, becoming empty, a mere shell, a ghost. That was all that was left of him, he realised, as he neared towards the door. A ghost.

His hand automatically grasped the handle of Widow's Wail before he thought better of it and he instead placed it down on the table, knowing that he had no use for his true sword now. It needed to stay close to Oathkeeper; after all, he didn't want their swords to ever be parted again. He would pick up a spare sword from the armoury instead. He gave Widow's Wail a farewell pat, before pressing his fingers to his lips, and then pressing his fingers to Oathkeeper's hilt, glistening beside Brienne's armour, the armour decorated with the sigils of both their houses married together, as they had always been meant to be.

Swallowing, Jaime moved silently over to the door and opened it, nauseous with the knowledge that he was leaving the entirety of his heart and the man he was – or rather, the man he so dearly wanted to be – behind with Brienne.

Forgive me, my love.

He closed the door behind him, and knew that he was Jaime Lannister no more.

Chapter Text

The door clasped gently shut, and Brienne's eyelids fluttered open. The brief cold breeze that had seeped in from the corridor outside woke her up from her slumber quickly enough, but it was the empty spot in the space to her right that made her sit upright in bed, suddenly alert. She frowned, confused, as she looked around their room. But he wasn't there.

Scrambling out from under the fur covers, Brienne reached for her bedrobe and flung it on. An uneasy feeling building inside her, she then hurriedly slipped into her boots and left their bedchambers. The corridor was eerily silent, making Brienne shiver, but then again of course, why wouldn't it be? It was the middle of the night, after all.

Perhaps he was hungry and went for some food from the kitchens, Brienne told herself as she hurried down the steps. Or perhaps he just couldn't sleep and fancied a walk…in the cold snow that he detests so much…yes, that'll be it…

She wasn't sure why the first place she thought to look would be the courtyard round the back outside. Perhaps she needed reassurance that her worst fears were not true. But then she saw him there, struggling to saddle his horse, the golden hand twinkling in the moonlight.

It took Brienne a few moments to understand what she was seeing, and then she felt her stomach drop.

No. Please, gods, no.

She slowly walked up to him with a frown, her arms folded, trying to remain calm. She knew he had heard her approach across the yard, she knew he must be able to see her in his peripheral vision, but he seemed intent on concentrating solely on readying his horse and acting as if she weren't there.

This can't be.

She'd thought they would have more time before it came to this.

'They're going to destroy that city,' Brienne said in a low voice, staring at him, and Jaime's heart sank. 'You know they will.'

He had so hoped that it hadn't been her who had followed him out here. This wasn't how it was meant to be. He'd wanted their last memory together to be of the two of them, happy and entwined in their bedchambers. Not this. Never this.

Jaime felt himself begin to panic as Brienne waited for him to respond. He couldn't think. He couldn't come up with the words to say. He wished she would look anywhere else. He couldn't stand the shame of her eyes on him while he prepared to leave.

Brienne was right; the situation was hopeless. It was highly unlikely that Jaime would be able to save Cersei from herself, and yet there still was a chance that she might listen to him, that he would persuade her to see reason, that he could try and negotiate her surrender. He might be able to save the capital, and his sister and their baby's life. Whether he would be able to forgive her for all she had done and all she had made him do, Jaime wasn't sure, but all he knew was that Cersei's day of reckoning must also be his. Even if he did confront her, he would still stand by her side as the monstrous person he had always been, because that was the only way it could be. He deserved no better fate than hers, after all. And as much as he wished it weren't true, Brienne couldn't talk him out of this. No one could.

'Have you ever run away from a fight?' Jaime asked, still refusing to look at her as he focussed on his horse.

The saddle was all he could drill his watery gaze into. He couldn't look anywhere near her, because if he did…he would break from the shame. He couldn't help himself always running back to Cersei…her influence over him was too powerful for him to try and control. Besides, he'd had a hand to play in her rise and becoming power-mad. How could he abandon her to the wolves and dragons now?

Even when he was appealing to her honour as a knight like this, Brienne still couldn't understand. He had spoken to her only this morning of running away, just the two of them, together. This cruel world had broken him, and he wanted to escape it. Brienne would only gladly escape it with him, but she could tell it was too late for that. Even if she didn't understand, she knew he was in this – whatever it was – alone.

Looking back to where he had started, to the man he had been when they'd first met, Brienne knew it was a miracle that he was not only alive, but the man that he was today. He had changed so much. But this was the moment that could change it all back. Perhaps if she pleaded, he would decide to stay after all. Perhaps she would be enough for him. Perhaps they could be enough for him. 'Just the two of us', he had said merely hours ago. He was blinded by the chaos and cruelty of the world, but Brienne was his way out. She knew it, and deep down he knew it too. He just needed to embrace it. He just needed to remember what they had spoken of in the Godswood a few days ago…of all they had imagined for their future together…

Don't give up on me. Please.

But Jaime couldn't hear the wordless pleas that shone through the eyes he'd normally be so content to gaze into. He had closed himself off from her. His back was turned to her, his face deliberately in the other direction as he tried to brace himself for what was to come next.

Exhaling shakily, Brienne then closed the distance between them in a few long strides and, reaching out, she took his face in both her hands and forced him to look at her. The way she grabbed him and turned him away from the horse stunned Jaime deeply as he tried to keep his head bowed low.

No, don't come close to me, don't touch me, he wanted to plead, but his voice caught in his throat.

Didn't she understand? One of the many traits he shared with her was his stubbornness; she couldn't change his mind.

'You're not like your sister,' Brienne said fiercely, still afraid to speak her name, and she forced him to meet her gaze as she brought his head up so they were at equal heights. 'You're not.'

Jaime's wet eyes widened in shock at her statement as he met that beautiful yet heartbreaking sapphire-blue gaze of hers. He couldn't believe what she was saying; he had built his identity around being similar to Cersei, and everyone knew it. Only Brienne was blind to the terrible truth.

Her hair was ruffled and messy, her face torn in anguish, her gaze beseeching. She was dressed in only her bedrobe, cold and vulnerable. He remembered the days when she had been too afraid to ever let anyone see her without her armour on. And now here she was, with no shield to protect her.

'You're better than she is,' Brienne went on urgently, her thumbs brushing against his skin as she cupped his face. 'You're a good man and you can't save her.'

Jaime immediately frowned the moment she called him a good man. That startling phrase was something he wasn't accustomed to hearing. His brow furrowed and his forehead wrinkled as he bent his head low again in shame, unable to look her in the eye. He loved her eyes. Looking at them would only break him even more.

His face filled with frustration and resignation as he let her words resonate with him…her words that shattered him, because he knew them not to be true. He had done a lot of work to try and become a good man, that was true. He'd kept his promise to fight against the dead. He had saved many lives. But nothing could change who he truly was, no matter how hard he tried. He didn't deserve a life with this woman who was so determined to believe in him. He didn't deserve anything, and it was surprising that anyone could think he did, even Brienne. She was the first and only person to ever call him a good man. Not once in his entire lifetime had he been called that. He wished it wasn't too late for him. He wished he could believe her. But the truth was he was already gone.

'You don't need to die with her,' Brienne went on, her voice growing increasingly emotional as Jaime blinked rapidly and met her gaze once more.

Perhaps she was right in some regard; perhaps he didn't need to die with Cersei. But he certainly deserved to. And it troubled him deeply to realise that Brienne could no longer see that.

Brienne had made the same mistake that he had; she had wilfully turned a blind eye to all the bad Jaime had done, all the crimes and sins and cruel deeds of his past…She knew about Bran, she knew about his cousin, she knew about all of it, and she was trying to wash them away, to pretend they had never happened. It shocked him to his core that she was willing to do that. When he had first met Brienne, she could barely tolerate him. She had found his past actions hateful and monstrous, just as she should have done, and yet now she was doing just what he had done, and built up excuses for crimes that she would never have committed had she been in his position.

But Jaime couldn't let her fool herself. He couldn't let their love turn her into someone who tolerated people who did the things he had done. He couldn't let her ruin herself and her values and her sense of morality over him. He had to make Brienne see him for what he really was. He had to make her see that she was better off without him. He had to make her let him go.

Brienne found herself growing even more desperate as she looked into Jaime's empty eyes and realised that her words weren't getting through to him. 'Stay here. Stay with me,' she said in a small voice, her bottom lip trembling as the tears threatened to cascade down her face. 'Please.'

Her voice shook violently on the last word, and Jaime couldn't hold her tear-filled gaze as she continued to hold his face. She was on the verge of breaking, and he could feel his heart shattering into tiny pieces at the pain he was causing her. He knew that she never pleaded, that she never asked for things for herself. She had never begged for anything before, not like this. But she was desperate. She could feel everything crumbling around her, all her happiness suddenly being ripped from her.

He wanted to stay. More than anything. But how could he live with himself if he did?

'Stay,' Brienne whimpered.

Jaime looked down; he couldn't bear to see her tears. He wished he could stop them. He wished he could give her what she wanted. But he couldn't, and he hated himself for it. It was always the way – everything he touched, everything he cared about, broke. Brienne was too pure for him to tarnish, and yet now look at what he had reduced her to. She was utterly distraught, and it was all because of him.

Brienne represented everything Jaime admired; her values as a knight, her morality, her valour, her honour…her ability to see him and love him for who he tried to be, despite all his flaws. But he couldn't accept that, even if she did bring out the best in him. They could have had a life together, the two of them, a wonderful life…but he wasn't as honourable as Brienne, he wasn't worthy of her faith and devotion, and he didn't deserve the life of the good man that Brienne so blindly saw him as. She had come into his life too late. Despite his overwhelming love for her, his loyalty and need to protect Cersei and their unborn child overcame his contempt for the monster his sister had become.

Jaime slowly reached up for Brienne's hand and wrapped it around her wrist, looking more beaten and lost than ever as he stared solemnly down at the ground, still unable to meet her gaze. His lips parted as his thumb slowly caressed her hand but then the words he longed to say got caught in his throat.

He had tried to warn her of the consequences of loving him, of them being together…not that he had ever expected it to come to this. He'd never thought that he could be so cruel, and yet here they were. It was the hardest thing in the world, for Jaime to bring himself to say what he knew needed to be said. It hurt him more than he could ever have anticipated, but what choice did he have? Brienne was already suffering, and even though he so desperately wanted to hold onto her, he couldn't. He needed her to let him go, but she wouldn't. And he was left with no alternative.

Jaime slowly began to nod heavily to himself as he realised what he had to do, though it killed him to do it. He had to ensure that she wouldn't follow him. He had to keep her away from the danger of King's Landing…and Cersei.

He had to break her heart.

'You think I'm a good man?' Jaime said in a low, almost bitter, voice, as he finally forced himself to look at her, cold determination in his eyes.

He reluctantly moved her right hand away from his cheek, and he felt sick to the stomach as he did it and watched her face slowly fall. They stared at each other for a moment, both of them terrified of what he might say, and Brienne's other hand slowly slipped from his face as she saw the pain in his eyes.

'I pushed a boy out a tower window, crippled him for life…for Cersei,' he whispered, his face filled with self-hatred.

His words were like a punch to the gut. Brienne could barely take them in.

'I strangled my cousin with my own hands,' Jaime went on, his voice tremoring with rage and sadness, 'just to get back to Cersei.'

Brienne didn't know what he was saying. Was he trying to be gallant and protect her somehow? Was he frightened of the recent change in his life, of his commitment to her? Was he frightened of Cersei? Or was he so in love with Cersei that he couldn't overlook her anymore?

She wasn't a fool. She knew how intimate Jaime's relationship with Cersei had been, how much it had meant to him. As dysfunctional as their bond had been, perhaps this had always been inevitable. But Brienne had seized that moment for them, that night after the feast – a rare moment of optimism in their lives, which had led to something pure and wonderful. A promise of a happy future together. And now he was shattering those hopes for them both right before her eyes.

Jaime exhaled shakily as he tried not to succumb to his tears; Brienne's face was torn in anguish, and it was agony for him to see her in such distress. But still, he continued.

'I would have murdered every man, woman and child in Riverrun…for Cersei,' he said, his voice shaking in bitterness and self-loathing.

Yes. But you didn't. for me.

Brienne inhaled a deep shuddering breath as she tried to maintain her composure. Cersei. Cersei. Cersei. It was all she could hear, just that single word that told her he was already lost, and she felt it like a knife to the heart. Any hope she'd had left died in her tear-filled eyes.

She'd thought being rejected by the man she loved, the man she had opened herself up to, would have been bad enough…but she was also watching him give in to his immutable self-hatred and accepting himself for a monster who he no longer was, and he was going to get himself killed because of it. She had failed to protect Renly, and then Lady Catelyn…and now Jaime too. She couldn't save him. And it destroyed her.

Jaime knew she was fighting back an onslaught of tears, just as he was. He was being cruel to be kind; a part of him hoped she would understand this, and yet from her torturous expression he could see that she didn't. It only made this even more distressing for him, and yet he knew he deserved it. It was Brienne who didn't deserve any of this…Brienne whose life and heart he had ruined. He had never despised himself more as he took in the pain on her face and realised just how he had ripped her trust to pieces after finally allowing herself to be vulnerable and close to him. He was destroying everything. But it was the only way to ensure that she wouldn't mourn for him if he did indeed perish; she needed to realise how the words he spoke were true. He needed her to loathe him just as much as he loathed himself.

His tear-filled eyes and anguished expression told Brienne that he didn't want to be doing this. Jaime didn't want to leave. It was breaking him too. But they also told her something else: that his mind was set. She was losing him, and she couldn't stop it.

Jaime leaned forward, as if to kiss her for a last time, but then thought better of it and remained a safe distance, his face torn in anguish. He felt dizzy, as if he might collapse, as if he might completely break before her. He couldn't let her see that. So many words poured through his mind as he thought of what else he could say to her before he left… 'I'm so sorry' … 'Thank you for the best time of my life' … 'Goodbye, my love'…

But he couldn't do it. He couldn't risk her following. He had to destroy them both even further. It was the only way to keep her safe.

Jaime's face then fell, his expression cold and distant. 'She's hateful,' he said, his voice breaking. 'And so am I.'

Brienne's lips trembled violently as the world came crashing down around her. He might as well have spat in her face. He might as well have said, 'I don't love you anymore'. Because that was how it felt.

He could see from the way her face crumbled that he had done it; he had finally pushed her to breaking point. She was distraught. She knew more so than anyone that Jaime was so much more than his worst mistakes, but he couldn't see that. He was leaving to his death, wrongly believing that he was a monster, and there was nothing she could do to save him.

Jaime turned away, back to his horse, and the instant he did an almost animalistic sob tore from Brienne's throat as she burst into tears.

The sound almost broke Jaime but he still climbed up onto his horse, fighting his instinct to take her in his arms and comfort her. He couldn't bear to leave her like this, sobbing in her bedrobe in the middle of a muddy courtyard, without being able to tell her the things he longed to say, but there was no other way. He hoped the harsh brutality of his words would keep her here, in the North. Otherwise he had put her through this agony for nothing.

Brienne hadn't realised until now that heartbreak was a physical pain. Yes, she had grieved for Renly after he had died in her arms, but her feelings for Renly had been almost trivial compared to this. Renly had never made her think he loved her back, unlike Jaime. But now, standing here as Jaime mounted his horse and didn't even look back to her, she found she couldn't breathe. She had taken such a risk for herself in being with him. It had been the first time she had ever chosen an experience purely for her own happiness. She had left herself raw and open to him, and he had hurt her brutally, in the worst way possible, worse than a thousand fatal wounds from an army of dead men in the battlefield. Their whole relationship, everything they had built together over these years, was being ripped apart. It was crumbling before her, like it had never meant anything to him. And even worse, Jaime was going to die thinking that he was still the evil, heartless villain he had once been rather than the good person she had seen him become.

Her breathing was shaky and uncontrollable as she continued to sob, deflated and unable to watch him leave. She crumbled, hating her own naivety that Jaime himself had warned her about, and kept her head bent low as she continued to weep, leaving her empty inside as the horse neighed and galloped across the yard towards the open gates.

Tears rolling down his face, Jaime rode away from the castle grounds that had become his home and from her life, leaving a broken Brienne behind him in the full knowledge that he had ruined the very best thing that had ever happened to him. He knew that the sound of Brienne's heart-wrenching sobs echoing through the courtyard would haunt him for what little remained of his tragic life.

* * *

It was exhausting and overwhelmingly frustrating, traipsing about the woods and fields with such a boring, grumpy captor. Brienne of Tarth was an endless challenge to Jaime, and even after their exciting interlude with those three Northern men whom Brienne had defeated so spectacularly, nothing much had changed in the days that had passed since then to make her any less infuriating. All she did was glare at him with disdain and disapproval, and occasionally snap back the odd brutal retort to put him in his place, but other than that she gave him absolutely nothing to go on, and it was driving Jaime mad. No matter how many times he tried to lash out at her, no matter how he many times he tried to demoralize and disable her, or mock her for her looks…she never let it get to her.

Or at least, not on the surface.

In truth, as they carried on with their journey through the Riverlands towards King's Landing and reluctantly got to know each other more, Brienne did feel rather stung by his relentless insults. She had hoped that after her defeat of those three Northern men, he would act more respectful towards her. But if anything, her actions that day had only encouraged him further to tease her, as if it had increased his urge to pry out more information about her, to get her to respond the way she had that day, to make his life exciting again.

Still, she never broke her reserve. She never revealed how she was truly feeling. After all, she had learnt to ignore the nasty comments ever since she had been a young girl. Her father had always taught her to conceal her pain, to not show the bullies that they'd gotten to her. Sometimes Brienne wished he hadn't ingrained that so ferociously within her during her upbringing though. She knew he'd meant well and had only been trying to protect her and toughen her up to be the strong woman she was today, but sometimes she wondered whether she was capable of showing any emotion at all, good or bad.

'You know, we could catch a chill if we keep trying to sleep outside like this,' Jaime said one night, bound to a nearby tree while Brienne put some more wood on the fire in the small secluded area of the forest they'd made camp in. 'We should huddle together for warmth.'

Brienne slowly looked up from the fire and glared at him; he was smirking amusedly at her. 'Never in a million years, Kingslayer,' she growled, sitting down on the ground.

Jaime chuckled. 'I would never want to either, don't you worry. Why do you sleep in your armour, anyway?' she asked, frowning at her. 'It can't be comfortable.'

Brienne ignored him. It irritated her how he kept commenting about that. He'd even once offered to help her take her armour off for her one evening when they'd made camp, but she had refused rather rudely, and he hadn't offered since then. No, it wasn't comfortable, but she would hardly have gotten any sleep anyway because she didn't trust him, and she had to keep watch in case of any passers-by. Besides, she couldn't be without her armour. She was nothing without it. That, at least, was something Jaime could relate to.

'Is it so you can keep pretending to be a knight? Is that what you dream of?' he said mockingly, and he let out a scornful laughter. 'Brienne of Tarth, a woman knight of the Seven Kingdoms?'

'I don't dream of anything,' Brienne lied as she stared determinedly away from him and into the flames.

'Everyone dreams of something,' Jaime said, raising his eyebrows sceptically.

'I'm not everyone.'

Jaime exhaled deeply. 'No. You're not, are you?' he said thoughtfully.

He couldn't figure her out at all. It infuriated him greatly. She was so obsessed with honour and oaths and loyalty. She was everything he had idealised in a knight, everything Jaime had so wanted to be when he was younger. He resented her for it…and yet for some reason a part of him wanted to seek her approval, and he had no idea why.

'Are you ever going to sleep?' Jaime asked, as he leaned his head back against the tree trunk, trying to get as comfortable as possible.

'Are you ever going to give up on trying to escape?' Brienne retorted.

Jaime smiled. 'That would be telling.'

Brienne shook her head at him, exasperated. 'You're a bloody nuisance, you know.'

'The feeling is mutual,' Jaime assured her.

'Well it should just be a few more weeks and then once we're back at King's Landing, we'll never have to see each other again,' Brienne said, relieved at the very thought.

Jaime tilted his head mockingly at her. 'Are you sure you won't want to stay with me?' he said jokingly, chuckling, and Brienne glared at him.

'You're the last person I'd ever want to stay around,' Brienne said, her tone and expression full of contempt.

'How touching,' Jaime said, smirking, and he sighed as he moved against the ropes binding him to the tree. 'Well, I think I'm going to try and get some sleep, if I'm not kept awake by anticipation of tomorrow's exciting adventure through yet more woods. You ought to do the same if you had any wits about you.'

But Brienne didn't sleep. She tried as she lay on the grass in her bulky armour and watched the flames of the campfire slowly die, but she was too alert to slip out of consciousness, no matter how tired she was. Instead she kept her eyes on Jaime's sleeping figure and the trees surrounding them, ready for the slightest bit of movement. Luckily, they were not disturbed, and the moment the sun began to rise, Brienne rose to her feet and woke Jaime so they could eat their breakfast from the remaining food she had hunted yesterday evening.

'Come on, we need to get going,' Brienne muttered once they had finished eating, forcing Jaime up to his feet and securing his restraints as she reattached him to the rope in her hands.

'Wait,' Jaime murmured.

She followed his gaze to see that he was looking in amazement at the view of the pink sky before them, and the rising silhouette of the sun behind the canopy of trees that lay far ahead.

'Haven't you ever seen a sunrise before?' Brienne asked impatiently.

'Only in a city that smells of shit and peasants. This is something else,' Jaime said, his voice dazed.

A slight smile fell on his face, and for a second as she looked at him, Brienne saw, not the Kingslayer, but a pure man simply enjoying the beauty of nature. But then the moment was gone as quickly as it had come, and, coming back to her senses, Brienne shoved Jaime forward. With a grunt, Jaime reluctantly tore his eyes away from the stunning sunrise and led on.

They walked for a few hours, and for a time it was almost peaceful; Jaime was unusually silent, as he was intrigued to see how long Brienne would be able to go on for without speaking. Despite the clouds forming in the sky, it was a relatively pleasant day, with the leaves swaying gently in the breeze and the birds chirping. Of course, the relaxing atmosphere was too good to last.

As Jaime scrambled through a large bush onto yet another open field, he finally broke reserve; Brienne's stubborn refusal to talk was getting unbearable.

'Do you know how long it's going to take us to get to King's Landing walking through fields and forests?' he asked, turning back to face Brienne; he watched amusedly as she struggled to get through the tangle of bushes.

'Yes,' she replied gruffly, finally managing to clamber through onto the field as she kept a firm hold on his rope.

'So how shall we pass the time?' Jaime asked slyly.

'By putting one foot in front of the other,' Brienne replied firmly, unimpressed with his fake attempts at flirtation.

Jaime groaned as he watched a herd of sheep hurry past them. 'It's going to be a very dull walk.'

'I'm here to take you to King's Landing and bring back Lady Stark's daughters in exchange. Dull is fine,' Brienne said, looking around the field to check that there was no one nearby.

'You know, it doesn't matter how loyal a servant you are,' Jaime said, turning back to face her; Brienne shoved him away from her, 'no one enjoys the company of a humourless mute. Trust me on this; people have been serving me since I was born. You think Lady Stark is going to want a…a giant towheaded plank following her around for the rest of her life? A week's journey with you and she'll order you to fall on your sword.'

Brienne raised her eyebrows. 'Giant towheaded plank'. Well that's a new one.

They veered off the field and began to head down a hill, towards a cluster of trees. Jaime was so sick of woodland. He yearned for the familiar tall buildings and gates of King's Landing, and yet it would be weeks – more likely months – until they arrived there.

'If Lady Stark is unhappy with any aspect of my service, I'm sure she'll let me know,' Brienne said with a frown as they walked on into the forest. 'She's an honest woman.'

'For all the good it's done her,' Jaime said sarcastically. 'Can we stop? I have to piss.'

'Must you?' Brienne asked with a groan, and Jaime tilted his head at her.

'Well unless you'd rather I pissed myself?'

They stopped near a tree and while Jaime did his business, Brienne looked away disdainfully and kept watch. She was constantly on edge about anyone coming across them. She didn't want a repeat of what had happened with those three Northern men. It would do them no good to leave a trail of bodies behind them.

'How did you come into Lady Stark's service?' Jaime asked, interested. 'There's something we can talk about.'

'Not your concern, Kingslayer.'

'It had to be recently. You weren't with her at Winterfell,' Jaime said, as he finished off and turned around to face her.

Brienne scoffed. 'How would you know?'

'Because I visited Winterfell. I would have noticed your dour head smacking into the archways,' Jaime said, struggling to tie up his breeches; the manacles around his wrists didn't really help speed things up.

Brienne ignored him and gave his rope a yank. 'Move.'

'Were you pledged to Stannis?' Jaime asked as they walked on down the woodland path.

'Gods, no,' Brienne replied in disgust.

'Ah, Renly,' Jaime said, and then he frowned. 'Really? He wasn't fit to rule over anything more important than a 12-course meal.'

'Shut your mouth,' Brienne said defensively.

'Why? I lived with him at court since he was a boy, don't forget. Could hardly escape the little tulip…skipping down the corridors in his embroidered silks. I knew him far better than you,' Jaime said, almost smugly.

Brienne felt a pang of jealousy at the mere notion. 'I knew him as well as anyone. As a member of his Kingsguard, he trusted me with everything,' she said fiercely, as Jaime turned to face her sceptically. 'He would have been a wonderful king.'

'Sounds like you quite fancied him,' Jaime muttered teasingly, a smirk on his face.

'I did not fancy him,' Brienne said sternly, avoiding his eye contact as he turned back around to face her.

Jaime's face lit up in amusement. 'Oh, gods, you did!' he said, delighted and bemused; he would never have thought this woman had the capacity to develop such feelings for anyone. 'Did you ever tell him? No, of course not.'

Brienne kept her eyes firmly on the path ahead of them as Jaime turned back to grin at her. She was infuriated, more so with herself than with Jaime. Of course he had every right to tease her for the ridiculousness of it all; Brienne of Tarth, in love with a man who had never seen her as anything more than the ugly woman pledged to his service. She'd thought she was better at hiding it – after all, Renly had never suspected – so how was it that the Kingslayer could deduce it so easily? She'd tried not talking to him or letting her expression betray her thoughts over these past few weeks, but Jaime had apparently learnt to read her better than she had anticipated.

'You weren't Renly's type, I'm afraid,' Jaime said, laughing, as Brienne shoved him roughly forwards, urgent to keep him moving. 'He preferred, err, curly-haired little girls like Loras Tyrell. You're far too much man for him.'

Brienne scowled at him in disgust. 'I'm not interested in foul rumours,' she said dismissively.

'Unless they're about me,' Jaime pointed out indignantly, and for the briefest moment Brienne felt almost ashamed.

Sometimes Jaime wished he could clarify those rumours to Brienne. But he had never spoken about such matters to anymore, because he simply hadn't cared what others thought. And yet he couldn't help but be moved by this stupid woman's unflinching faith in knightly values. It was becoming more difficult for him as time went on to dismiss her accusations whenever she chastised him for his broken vows and monstrosity. He wondered if she would ever see him as anything more than that, or if she would only ever look upon him and see the sins of his past, as most people did. The thought hit a nerve with Jaime as they traipsed on through the trees.

'It's all true about Renly,' Jaime went on. 'His proclivities were the worst kept secret at court.'

Brienne's nostrils flared as she stomped on, her fury steadily building.

'It's a shame the throne isn't made out of cocks,' Jaime said amusedly, 'they'd have never got him off it-!'

Enraged, Brienne seized him by his hair and cloak and yanked him roughly towards her, making him groan in pain. 'Shut your mouth!' she growled at him furiously.

They stared at each other for a few moments in tense silence. Their faces were close enough to touch, but their proximity didn't seem to bother Brienne – she was trying to concentrate on her deep breathing, but it was hard to calm down when the obscene man inches from her was gazing back at her so intensely, his lips parted in shock. To his amusement, Jaime realised that if anyone were to walk past and see them now, they would look like they were about to kiss. It hit him then just how strange it was that this was the first time that he had ever spent a considerable amount of time – intimate time, even – alone with another woman. But Jaime didn't have time to ponder this; the look on Brienne's face – her scowl, the burning hatred in her eyes, the way her jaw was set – almost scared him. He had said many things to her since they had been thrown into each other's company the other week, cruel and nasty things, but none that had offended her quite as much as this.

Suddenly feeling ashamed for some reason, Jaime then raised his eyebrows at Brienne as she held his head close to hers. 'I don't blame him. And I don't blame you, either,' he said softly. 'We don't get to choose who we love.'

Brienne gazed back at him, inexplicably moved by his words, but before she could think of what to say or do next, she heard the neigh of a horse approaching. Jaime glanced to the side and Brienne released her hold of him, flustered, as she realised what the two of them must have looked like to an outsider. Panic began to set in as Brienne stood in front of Jaime to address the old man who was walking past, leading his horse behind him.

I let my guard down. I let Jaime get to me, and now we've been seen.

The old man came to a halt as he peered at them both curiously. 'Where are you headed, then?' he asked.

'South,' Jaime replied from behind Brienne. 'You?'

'Riverrun. Staying off the kingsroad, are you?' the old man said knowingly, and Jaime and Brienne both tensed. 'They get you no matter where you go. You can't win.'

'No, you really can't,' Jaime replied.

'Looks like you're safe enough, though,' the old man pointed out, indicating Brienne. 'Meaning no offense, milady, but' – he broke off to laugh – 'I wouldn't tangle with you.'

Jaime forced a hearty laugh that sounded so unconvincing, it made Brienne want to kick him. Instead, she forced a soft laugh as well.

'Seven blessings to you,' the old man then said, as he turned to carry on down the path.

'And you,' Brienne said, as she and Jaime both nodded politely at him, false smiles on both their faces.

Her smile faded the moment the old man turned away, and she and Jaime watched nervously as he walked away with his horse, turning back to give them one last suspicious glance.

'He knows who I am,' Jaime murmured in Brienne's ear.

'He doesn't,' Brienne said firmly, unable to keep her eyes off the retreating man.

'Maybe you're right, but what if you're not?' Jaime asked urgently. 'What if he tells someone?'

There was a silence as Brienne continued to watch the old man leave, knowing exactly what was going through Jaime's mind.

'We're not doing it,' Brienne said, her jaw set, and Jaime barely refrained from rolling his eyes exasperatedly. 'He's an innocent man.'

'More innocent than Lady Stark's daughters?' Jaime asked, and Brienne hesitated.

She resented him for knowing how best to challenge her now, but she wouldn't change her mind. Turning Jaime around, she then pushed him forward and they continued on their journey.

'You're making a mistake,' Jaime said warningly as they walked on.

Brienne merely gave him another shove in the back. 'Where's the honour in killing someone innocent?' she asked.

Jaime turned back to stare at her, speechless for a moment, then groaned. 'Seven hells. You're just too good to be true, aren't you?' he said exasperatedly. 'You're more naïve than anyone I've ever met.'

'Excuse me?' Brienne snapped, raising her eyebrows, as they came to a halt.

'One day you'll learn the hard way that true honour, the kind of honour you imagine, doesn't exist in the real world,' Jaime said, frowning almost sympathetically at her. 'People who claim to be innocent, people you're sworn to protect, people you love – well, that is, if Renly wasn't a fluke and you ever come to know what it's like to properly feel any real emotion towards a human being – they'll all turn out to be traitors in the end. That's just the way the world works. It's cruel and unfair, but that's how it is. You'll see, in time.'

Brienne's nostrils were flaring like never before as she breathed deeply and glared down at him. 'Is that what you've learnt, Kingslayer?' she asked.

There was a short silence as Jaime turned away from her and began to trudge onwards down the woodland path. 'More times than I can count,' he eventually replied, his tone heavy. 'At least I'm giving you warning.'

Neither of them said anything for a while as they marched on through the woods, Brienne keeping an eye out for any more passers-by. She had let Jaime's snide comment about Renly get the better of her, and then she had let their proximity and his rare softness towards her distract her from being watchful and alert. She would not make that mistake again. She hoped she had made the right decision in not going after that old man who had come across them. The sooner they moved away from these woods, the better.

She felt a lump rise in her throat as she thought over Jaime's words.

'-Well, that is, if Renly wasn't a fluke and you ever come to know what it's like to properly feel any real emotion towards a human being-…'

That comment bothered Brienne more than all the insults in the world that could be thrown at her. She wondered if he was right in his assumption that she would never be able to love anyone properly. Love was something Brienne had longed to experience, especially so with Renly, but never had and most likely never would. She hated to admit it to herself, but she was even somewhat envious of the love Jaime knew, wrong and obscene though it was. At least he knew how it felt. At least he had felt that warmth in his heart, that feeling deep in his soul, a feeling that had made him whole as a person. Lovers really were the luckiest people.

But Brienne was used to not being one of the lucky ones. And perhaps it was for the best; all she had known was to live on without giving in to emotions. Caring for others only made you weak, after all. Her feelings had got the better of her with Renly, but that would not happen again. She was sure of that.

'We don't get to choose who we love,' Jaime had said.

Brienne was certain that she would be able to choose, though. She wasn't like most people. She wouldn't let herself feel or love again, like she had loved Renly. It wasn't worth the pain. After all, if you loved someone, it only meant you had someone to lose.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

The morning dawned frostier than usual when Podrick rose from his bed. He felt slightly nauseous as he peered out of the window. It was hailing quite harshly outside in the courtyard, the hailstones turning to ice as they smashed onto the ground. He dressed slowly, anything to put off what he knew was about to come. Today was going to be a hard day.

Pod headed first into the great hall when he went downstairs, but she wasn't there. He didn't know why he'd expected to see her there for breakfast as usual; after all, it wasn't like everything was normal. Lady Sansa caught his eye from the top table and waved with a smile, beckoning him over. Pod merely waved and shook his head apologetically before retreating. Deciding to brave the hail outside, he then hurried outside and across the courtyard, covering his cloak over his head, to check the stables…only to see that Jaime's horse was no longer there. His heart sank.

He really did it.

Dismayed, Pod turned away from the stables and looked out at the small chunks of ice hurling themselves at the ground. He exhaled shakily. He couldn't remember ever feeling so guilty or saddened in his life. A heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, Pod then hurried back inside the castle and walked upstairs.

His pace grew slower as he neared to their bedchambers, and he felt a lump rise to his throat. The door was slightly ajar; he knocked quietly, but there was no answer. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Pod then slowly pushed the door open.

Brienne was sat on a chair at the foot of the bed with Widow's Wail across her lap. She was staring at the empty hearth, seeing nothing, with her hands clutched around the sword like her life might depend on it. She looked like she hadn't slept at all. She looked like she had no tears left to cry. She looked past devastated; she looked completely empty inside.

Swallowing, Pod slowly walked over to her, though she probably wouldn't have noticed if an army had come charging into the room threatening to cut her to pieces. Fighting furiously against the tears that threatened to build in his eyes, Pod knelt down and put his hand over hers, clutching the handle of Widow's Wail. Brienne tensed briefly at his touch, but then quickly relaxed as they both held onto Jaime's sword.

Brienne slowly looked up at him; the moment their eyes met, Pod felt his heart break. They gazed at each other wordlessly, neither of them knowing what to say, neither of them quite able to express what they were feeling. And then, finally, Brienne spoke.

'He's gone.'

Chapter Text

They found Lady Sansa in the library later that morning, gathering some scrolls together. Normally, Pod would have remained behind in the doorway for any private meetings, but today he stood by Brienne's side; she needed him there for this.

Brienne cleared her throat. 'Lady Sansa, I have some news,' she said unsteadily.

Sansa beamed excitedly. 'Well it's about time, I must say-'

But she froze when she turned around from the table and saw the expression on Brienne's face. She had been hoping for a wedding announcement but something in Brienne's empty, bloodshot eyes and pale, gaunt face told her that this was not the case. Sansa's smile faltered as she glanced uneasily at Pod.

'What is it? What's happened?' she asked them warily.

'I…Jaime…' Brienne trailed off, unable to say it, and she inclined her head towards Pod, wordlessly asking him to help her.

'Ser Jaime has left,' Pod announced heavily.

Sansa frowned, confused. 'Left?'

'Last night. He's gone back to King's Landing,' Pod replied.

'For what?'

A lump rose in Brienne's throat. 'For Cersei,' she said, the words making her nauseous.

'I…I don't understand,' Sansa said, her hands falling to the table as she stared at them both in bewilderment. 'I…why would he…I thought he was-'

'I thought so too, my lady,' Brienne murmured.

'Has he gone to save her or stop her?' Sansa asked.

'Both, I think,' Brienne replied.

'And you let him go?'

'I-I did, yes.'

Sansa tilted her head disapprovingly. 'You should have reported this to me straight away, Brienne.'

'It was…the middle of the night, I didn't want to wake you, my lady-'

'No that's not it, you just wanted to give him a chance to change his mind and turn back,' Sansa said, and there was a tense pause as she turned to look out of the window, deep in thought. 'I'll send my men after him. With any luck, he won't have gotten too far.'

'To what end, my lady?' Brienne asked helplessly. 'So you can bring him back and have him executed?'

'No, I wouldn't do that,' Sansa said, 'for your sake more than his. But something has to be done-'

'It's already too late,' Brienne interrupted, stunning Sansa. 'What would be the point? He found out his sister was losing, so he fled to try and save her. Are you saying you wouldn't have done exactly the same thing if it were one of your siblings, even if they were also your enemy?'

Sansa stared at her incredulously. 'Brienne, I don't understand why you're making excuses for him. He betrayed us. He ruined your reputation as a maiden and left you. Your life with him was about to be perfectly wonderful, and he just threw all that away just like that. Doesn't that bother you?'

'Yes, it bothers me, my lady, of course it does,' Brienne said, her voice shaking with the effort not to break down; Pod frowned reproachfully at Sansa, who looked down, ashamed. 'But what bothers me more is that I couldn't make him see that he's changed. He left, knowing he'll most likely die, thinking that he's an evil man deserving of whatever fate awaits his sister. That is why he left. He doesn't think he's a good man.'

'But you still believe he is? Even now?' Sansa asked, amazed.

'I do,' Brienne said firmly. 'I know it.'

Sansa sighed heavily. 'Brienne, this is my fault, I'm so sorry. I was angry yesterday…if I hadn't spoken to him then perhaps he wouldn't have gone-'

'He would have gone regardless. She's engrained in him,' Brienne said, though it pained her to say it.

There was a silence as Sansa thought hard. 'There's still time,' she then said, struck by inspiration. 'You could stop him. If I release you from your vow, you could ride out, there's a chance you'd catch up-'

'No, I can't do that, my lady, although I appreciate your kindness,' Brienne said, touched. 'My loyalty is to you and your family.'

'I thought you once told Ser Jaime to – what was it? – ah yes, 'fuck loyalty'?' Sansa pointed out.

Brienne flushed; she wished she hadn't told Sansa about that. 'That was in the case of his sister, my lady. It's quite different. And it didn't work anyway for him, in the end,' she said sadly, her voice breaking.

'It did for when it mattered,' Sansa said fiercely. 'He fought alongside you and everyone here at Winterfell, he defended the castle and protected his enemies while doing it. I won't forget that. Although…I find it hard to forgive him for what he's put you through.'

'That makes two of us, my lady,' Brienne muttered.

'Three, actually, milady,' Pod interjected.

'Yes, thank you, Pod,' Brienne said dryly.

Sansa exchanged a look with Pod and they smiled.

'I still think I should send some of my men out to find him and bring him back,' Sansa insisted.

'No, it will do no good, my lady,' Brienne said, 'he's already gone.'

'But we could catch him-'

'No, I meant…his mind is already set. There's no changing it now,' Brienne said, struggling to keep her voice steady, and she averted her gaze. 'Believe me, I tried.'

Sansa's lips parted as she tried to find the right words. 'Brienne, I…I'm so very sorry,' she said eventually, and her tone was sincere.

'Th-thank you, my lady,' Brienne said, her voice coming out in merely a whisper. 'Will that be all?'

'Of course,' Sansa said sympathetically. 'Pod – may I have a word?'

'Err…' Pod looked bewildered; he always stuck close to Brienne during the daytime.

'It's fine, Pod,' Brienne reassured him. 'I would rather be alone for now anyway.'

She turned away and left the library, her head and shoulders bent low, her feet traipsing along the floor one after the other as if all purpose had gone from her body. The moment the door had closed behind her, Sansa and Pod crossed the room towards each other.

'Are you all right?' Sansa asked softly, taking Pod's hands in hers. 'I know Ser Jaime meant a lot to you as well.'

But Pod shook his head sadly. 'It's nothing compared to what she must be going through.'

'I've never seen her like this before, have you?' Sansa asked anxiously.

'No, milady,' he murmured.

His heart ached for Brienne. He felt almost as betrayed as she did.

'How many times must I tell you to stop calling me 'milady' when we're alone?' Sansa said sternly, but then her smile disappeared as they let go of each other's hands. 'Did you see this coming, with Ser Jaime leaving?'

'N-not exactly,' Pod replied awkwardly, averting his gaze as the guilt threatened to overwhelm him again. 'Though I did think Ser Jaime was acting very…distant yesterday.'

Sansa nodded heavily. 'He broke her heart. And I always thought he'd be true to her. When I spoke with him about her he seemed so…'

'In love?' Pod finished for her.

'I wouldn't know, I'm not that familiar with the sensation,' Sansa murmured.

'Nor I, milady. Sansa.'

They gazed at each other for a moment. Both their cheeks began to colour.

Blinking rapidly, Sansa then turned away to the window. 'Ser Jaime gave us intelligence on Cersei's battle plans and her strategy with the Golden Company. Why would he have done that if he only meant to betray us and go back to her side later? Why would he stay here all this time after the battle at all?' she asked, perplexed.

'I don't think he did betray us, milady. At least…not in the military sense,' Pod said carefully. 'I believe he's still on our side. He stayed here for Brienne but…he just doesn't want his sister to die. I've gotten to know him quite well these past few weeks, and from the way he's spoken about it, I…I think he feels guilty of the part he's played in her rise to power, but also that he's…duty-bound to protect her.'

'So you think his leaving for King's Landing is essentially a suicide mission brought about by blind loyalty?' Sansa said heavily.

Pod didn't answer. He didn't need to.

She sighed heavily. 'And what about Brienne?'

'I think he truly loves her,' Pod said, and he gazed up at Sansa. 'I know he does.'

They were silent then, the question they both knew they and Brienne were all thinking, but unable to form the words on their lips – if Jaime truly loved her, then why had he left her?

* * *

Qyburn's quarters were rather drab and chilly. A few candles had been lit amongst the clutter of furniture and medical equipment that scattered the floor, but other than that, it was relatively dark. Brienne was somewhat grateful for that, as she walked tentatively across the room towards the hard bed that lay in the corner. She dragged Qyburn's chair over from his desk and sat down at Jaime's bedside.

It felt odd, to be back in her dirty mud-stained tunic and breeches after having cleaned herself thoroughly in the bathtub earlier, but she hadn't yet been provided with anything different to wear, and she wasn't sure she wanted to ask. Jaime, on the other hand, hadn't been dressed in anything at all since they had dragged his limp, unconscious body from the hot steaming waters of the bathtub, and he lay naked underneath the sheets on the bed. He groaned slightly as he slept, and Brienne wondered if he was dreaming yet again of his maiming…although now she knew that he had much worse memories of his past that undoubtedly haunted his nightmares.

She still couldn't believe the story that he had relayed to her in that bathtub earlier. He had confessed the truth of his most infamous act, the one he was most hated for…and only now did Brienne fully understand the depth behind the facade he'd been forced to put up due to the reputation he had received for killing the Mad King. Like everyone else in Westeros, she had judged him on only what she had been told about him. He had saved her from being raped and lost his sword hand because of it, and yet she had still continued to judge him for his most heroic act that had saved the entire population of King's Landing. All this time, he'd only been trying to do the right thing, for his family, and for the people he had been sworn to protect. All this time, he'd only been the same as her. Perhaps he was a true knight after all.

Not long after she'd sat down, Jaime soon began to stir awake, although he thought he was still dreaming when he opened his eyes to see that Brienne was sat beside him, her hair and face much cleaner than they had been for as long as he'd known her. She wore an almost guilty expression on her face as she watched him softly.

He struggled to sit up slightly, looking very confused. 'My lady?' he murmured with a frown, and he cleared his throat; his voice was still hoarse after all his yelling and screaming in this room earlier.

'Don't get up,' Brienne said quietly. 'I…I was just checking that you were…'

'Qyburn has seen to me.' Jaime still looked perplexed as to why she was here.

'He tells me you're still refusing milk of the poppy. Why?' she asked, and when he didn't answer, she sighed. 'You need it. You're in pain, you're weak. You need rest.'

Jaime raised his eyebrows at her sceptically. 'Do you really think either of us will be able to rest here in this place, with these ghastly beasts around?' he pointed out.

Brienne nodded wearily; she understood. He didn't trust Qyburn or any of the men in this castle. He was traumatised after his ordeal with Locke, and no wonder.

'I thought I was the beast here,' Brienne muttered.

Jaime closed his eyes in regret. 'You should ignore the things I said back then.'

'Is that an apology?' she asked, and he glared at her irritably.

'Will that make it any better?'

'Not particularly.'

A short silence fell between them. It was strange, being so close together in an enclosed room, with no ropes, no manacles, no trees, no jeering men. In a way, it was almost just as intimate as the bathtub.

Jaime cleared his throat as he rested his pillow against the wall and leant against it, wincing with pain each time he moved. 'Thank you. For catching me earlier, in the bath. And I'm sorry about before, if I was a little… I didn't really know what I was…' He trailed off awkwardly and let out a heavy sigh. 'I've never spoken about that to anyone until today.'

'You mean…I'm the only one who knows? The full story?' Brienne murmured, dazed.

'Yes.'

'Why?' she whispered.

There was a short pause.

'I…I was sick and tired of you seeing me as a monster,' Jaime replied eventually, his voice strained.

Brienne's lips parted, stunned. 'I thought a lion didn't concern himself with the opinions of the sheep,' she said coolly.

'I thought so too, once,' he muttered. 'Apparently I was wrong.'

Jaime wasn't ashamed to admit anymore that he had been craving closure, acceptance, validation, all of it…for so very long. He had never felt compelled to seize the chance for it, to share his traumatic story, until today. Until Brienne. He had bared his soul to her in that bathtub, and as a result he sensed that a new bond had inexplicably formed between them, a bond that could never be broken now. He could feel it in the air between them, in the new way in which she gazed at him.

Brienne breathed deeply as she looked over him. His face and hair were still dirty and covered with dried mud and blood; he hadn't had time to clean properly in the bath. Swallowing uncomfortably, she reached over for the clean cloth soaking in the washbowl that Qyburn had left on the nightstand beside the bed.

'May I?' she asked, leaning forward and raising the wet cloth to his face.

Jaime nodded reluctantly. It wasn't long after she'd started dabbing at his face, soaking away the marks of their harrowing time with Locke and his cronies, that she realised it wasn't just blood and mud trickling down his face as she washed him…it was tears as well. She could see them trickling down from his tired, bloodshot eyes, surrounded by purple bruises. She felt an ache of pity for him.

'Don't cry. It'll be all right,' she said, unsure of how best to speak to him; she wasn't that experienced in the art of consolation. 'All being well…we should be on our way to King's Landing soon.'

'If we play our cards right with Roose Bolton, then…maybe,' Jaime mumbled, embarrassed, as she firmly wiped away his tears with her thumbs before soaking the cloth again in the washbowl.

He sounded so miserable, so defeated, as if he couldn't be bothered with the effort of it anymore. Jaime had shown her the guilt, regret, anxiety, shame and fears that he had been hiding away for so long. He thought that he was too far gone, and he was letting go of all hope; she could see it in his eyes, in how deflated he looked. But, for some reason, Brienne found herself wanting him to hold on.

'And that's a good thing,' she said encouragingly. 'You'll be reunited with your sister.'

Jaime frowned at her, bewildered. 'Wh-why…why the hell are you being…nice to me?' he asked, completely baffled by her unusually soft behaviour.

'I'm not. Don't be ridiculous,' Brienne said at once, looking mortified at the very thought. 'Now…l-lie back and let me do this, I need to cool your temperature down.'

His lips quivered slightly as he tried not to smile while he lay back down on the bed and let her continue to press the wet cloth on his forehead. His suspicions were correct, he knew now; she was accepting him. She even cared about him, just as he cared about her, but they were both too stubborn to ever acknowledge this. Brienne wasn't just his former captor anymore, but also his protector…and she was slowly becoming so much more than that. He recalled the image of her naked, wet body emerging from the steaming waters of the bathtub earlier today after he'd insulted her for what he hoped would be the last time. He thought of the way she had wrapped her arms around him in a gentle embrace as he'd fainted, when he'd been at his very worst. When they'd first met, he had thought her doomed to be a spinster for the rest of her days, unwanted and unloved. Perhaps he had been wrong.

'Thank you, Lady Brienne,' he murmured.

Swallowing, Brienne then continued to run the cloth over his bruised forehead and cheeks. He winced as the droplets of water sunk into his cuts, but there was nothing she could do to avoid that – his marred skin was covered in them. Conscious of how close her face was to his, she then turned to examine the state of his mangled stump, as she so often did, but saw that Qyburn had re-dressed it with fresh bandages. She gave his forehead one final dab with the cloth, satisfied that he was much cooler than he had been before, before putting the cloth back in the washbowl.

'There. Better?' she said quietly.

Jaime nodded slowly as he sat back up, still stunned. She exhaled deeply as she looked at him, forcing herself to say what she knew must be said.

'You wanted a truce. Well…now you have it,' Brienne said heavily.

Jaime's expression softened; did this mean she trusted him now? 'What changed?' he asked, intrigued.

'You did,' Brienne replied, but then she frowned. 'Or rather, should I say…I did.'

'I see.'

Brienne suddenly felt rather flustered. They both knew that things between them could never go back to how they had been before, not after today.

She cleared her throat, wanting to change the subject. 'Lord Bolton apparently wants us to join him later for dinner,' she told him.

Jaime raised his eyebrows. 'Well that should be interesting.'

'Which is why you should try and get some rest,' Brienne insisted softly.

He nodded at her, still rather confused by this newfound attitude in her, and watched as she got up from the chair and headed back towards the door. When she reached the doorknob, her hand paused.

'Before I go, I…' Brienne trailed off as she turned back to face him, looking turmoiled.

'What?' Jaime asked, concerned for her. 'What is it?'

Brienne took a deep breath as she met his gaze. 'I'm so sorry for what happened that day…and for all that followed. Aerys Targaryen was an evil man. And I believe…you did the right thing.'

Jaime's trembling lips parted in shock, but before he had time to register her words or think of anything to say in response, she had already left. He felt another tear trickle down his cheek as she shut the door, and a surge of overwhelming relief and gratitude flooded through him. This honourable woman had acknowledged him. She now regarded him as worthy.

Suddenly he felt his fears of Roose Bolton and his men begin to seep away. Jaime was determined now; he would get them out of here. He didn't trust Lord Bolton or any of them, but he would find a way to see them both away from Locke and safely to King's Landing. He had to.

Meanwhile, as Brienne made her way along the corridor back to the room she had been allocated, she found herself rather shaken from her visit to Qyburn's quarters. She hadn't expected things to feel quite so different between herself and Jaime, yet they did. And it was all because he had told her his true story. A shiver ran up her spine as she recalled the date of the Sack of King's Landing and realised that Jaime had just been a teenage boy when he had killed the Mad King. A boy torn between two terrifying, horrific choices. Brienne knew she would have made the same choice as he had.

That day was the day her opinion of Jaime Lannister changed forever. That day was the day Brienne of Tarth saw him for who he truly was. A good man.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

Pod shivered as he trudged through the snow towards the Godswood. He didn't understand why Brienne would be here, but the soldier he'd asked had seemed fairly certain he'd seen the tall blonde knight walking this way. Lady Sansa had freed Pod of his duties for the time being and asked him to take care of Brienne. As much as Brienne would deny it, she needed looking after today.

He found her sure enough, stood near to the heart tree and gazing down at the frozen pond. He wondered if she was staring at her reflection, or if she were staring at nothing at all. It wasn't like Brienne to wander the grounds aimlessly without any purpose, without telling anyone where she would be. None of this was like Brienne at all.

Pod wished he knew what he could do to fix this. Why couldn't he have made Jaime see the light? Why hadn't he stopped him yesterday evening when he'd known what he planned to do? In truth, Pod hadn't really expected him to go through with it. He'd seen the way Jaime was around Brienne, he'd seen the way he looked at her. Jaime had devoted every moment of every day and night to Brienne's happiness this past month, and he'd transformed into a different man because of it, a man full of joy and laughter. How could it be the same man who had heartlessly abandoned Brienne merely hours ago? How could he have done it?

He thought once more of the letter Jaime had given to him, sealed in a tight scroll and locked away in his chambers.

'Only when the time is right…Give it a couple of months or so, maybe longer, I'll leave it up to you to decide. Once she's had time to…come to terms with it, if it happens. I don't want her hating me when she reads this…Promise me you'll give it to her, Pod…'

He swallowed, deeply uncomfortable, as he walked over to her. 'Milady?' Pod said tentatively. 'It's cold out here. You should go inside, get warm.'

Brienne barely seemed to hear him. 'We came here just a few days ago,' she said thoughtfully. 'He…he doesn't believe in any gods, but…he found it peaceful here. I did as well. Then. Seems strange now. It feels like it was a year ago…or a dream. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it was all just a lie.'

'I can promise you it wasn't,' Pod said, his face torn up in anguish as he watched her continue to stare blankly at the frozen pond.

'No, I know. I'm just being stupid,' Brienne muttered, and she scoffed. 'I'm acting like he did when he first got his hand cut off. He wouldn't stop feeling so bloody sorry for himself. He demanded pity from everyone, and all I gave him was a hard time. I couldn't stand him, you see.'

Pod swallowed. 'Let me go after him, milady,' he said in a small but fierce voice. 'Please. You can stay here and keep your oath to Lady Sansa, but let me…try to stop him.'

For the first time since he'd approached, Brienne looked up from the pond and gazed at him. 'I appreciate it, Pod, but there's no stopping him,' she said, and she exhaled deeply. 'It's time to put Ser Jaime behind us. Better to forget and move on.'

She didn't like the way Pod was looking at her, as if she were mad. It was Jaime's fault. He had done this to her. She'd let her guard down, she'd opened up her heart and given him everything, and he'd thrown it all back in her face and pulled the rug out from under her, whatever his true intentions and feelings. Why should she let herself fall apart for someone who had broken her into pieces?

'He's…he's not dead, milady-'

'He's as good as,' Brienne interrupted, and her voice broke. 'I won't get my hopes up for him to return, Pod, I can't put myself through that.'

Pod frowned doubtfully, full of concern. 'But still…forgetting and moving on is-'

'It's the only way I can carry on with my duties here,' Brienne said firmly.

She turned her back on the frozen pond then and slowly began to walk away. As she reached the heart tree, however, she came to a halt and turned back.

'Don't fall in love with her, Pod,' she said quietly.

'With who?' Pod asked.

'Sansa, of course. She's a wonderful girl, but love only makes you weak and you'll get hurt,' Brienne said. 'I won't let that happen to you, do you understand?'

Pod tilted his head at her sympathetically as he walked up to her. 'You're wrong,' he said in a tremoring voice. 'It doesn't make you weak. Whether you're happy or hurt by love, it's what makes you alive. It's what makes you human.'

Brienne looked back at him, her eyes welling up. 'Well I'd rather not be human just now,' she said, and with that she turned away and left the Godswood.

Pod watched her go, wondering sadly if the stony, cold-hearted, grumpy persona of the old scowling Brienne was back for good. But how could he blame her if she was? She knew that the love of her life was on his way into a bloodbath and back into the toxic arms of his monstrous sister. She had lost something that truly meant so much to her, not just Jaime but a part of her as well, and it was no wonder that it was destroying her.

Keen to avoid the eyes and pity of the other concerned residents of the castle who were beginning to wonder where Brienne's partner was, Brienne hurried past them all and headed back inside, wanting nothing more than to retreat to the solace of her bedchambers. She regretted going back there the moment she pushed the door open.

Their room – no, her room – still smelt of him. He had only taken the clothes he'd been wearing yesterday with him; his remaining attire was still here, along with various other belongings he'd picked up over the past month. She wondered if he had left Widow's Wail here deliberately or if he'd forgotten to pick it up in his desperation to sneak out of the room as quickly as possible without waking her.

Brienne's eyes turned to the fur covers of the bed as she thought over how loving and tender he had been with her last night. She would have to get used to being alone at night again, to sleep with an empty space by her side in the bed. It had only taken her a few days to get used to having him there, to have him hold her in his arms and love her. But he was no longer here and she felt more alone than ever.

I can't be in here.

She swept from the room and shut the door firmly behind her.

Determined to keep herself occupied, Brienne then promptly decided to return to her duties as normal, to keep as busy as she could and go about business as if nothing was wrong. As if by some silent agreement, Sansa and Pod went along with her act, though throughout the day, Brienne could sense the way they exchanged glances and watched her worriedly, as if looking out for any signs of a breakdown. But Brienne would not give in to her despair. She dressed into her armour that afternoon and channelled her anger into her training with the other knights and squires, while shielding herself from the pain that threatened to engulf her. It was easier to hide from it, after all, to act as if everything was as it should be, like the days before Jaime had come to Winterfell when she had been perfectly fine. It was healthier to pretend…wasn't it?

When the sun set that evening, Brienne avoided dinner – she hadn't managed to eat anything all day, and knew that if she did, she would only bring it back up – and left Pod to dine with Sansa while she took a stroll around the grounds outside. She'd forgotten how clunky and bulky her armour was, it had been so long since she'd worn it. It was strange how a large decorated suit of armour had once been her sole source of comfort.

The stars that Jaime so often loved to gaze at were obscured by heavy grey clouds tonight, and the relaxing winter breeze that they'd both found so calming when they'd taken their walks together along the snowy hilltops had come to a halt. Everything was so still, so quiet. Brienne's anger and denial slowly began to subside as she allowed herself to get lost in a daydream while she walked through the snow, fantasising about what could happen if things were to go her way.

Whatever she may have told Pod earlier, she still couldn't help hoping that Jaime would come back to her, that she would manage to find a way to overcome her anger and forgive him, that they would someday find trust in each other again, that they would be able to live the rest of their years together. But she knew that she could never hope for such a thing. He was lost. Lost in himself, and lost to her.

She cast her mind back longingly to the day Jaime had made her a knight. It seemed so long ago now, and yet still so vivid…she could clearly recall the way she had felt, and the soar of her heart as she'd looked into his eyes and seen nothing but pure love and pride there in his watery, awestruck gaze. He had made her dream come true that day, and in that moment as they'd locked eyes after she had risen as a knight for the first time, Jaime had become her new dream. But now it was time to say goodbye to that. That dream was over. All she could do now was pray that the gods would be just and fair to him, whatever prevailed.

Watch over him, she prayed that night, as she returned to the Godswood and sought solace in the presence of the heart tree. Watch over him and remember that he is loved, and above all, that he is a good man.

Chapter Text

The weeks passed. It was strange, the way time worked. The month Jaime and Brienne had spent together seemed to have lasted a whole year rather than just a few weeks. It had been a whole new life. Now, on the other hand, it was back to work as normal for Brienne, back to her normal duties around Winterfell just as it had been before the battle against the White Walkers, and the days sped by quickly. Before she knew it, it had already been an entire month since the night Jaime had left. In just the space of four wonderful weeks, the two of them had become lovers and talked about a future together. Brienne couldn't help wondering what would have happened in the four weeks that had followed, if Jaime had stayed.

He'll be there by now. Daenerys will be laying siege to the capital. What will Jaime do? What will Cersei do? Will they survive? Will he come back for me if he does? Or will he perish along with thousands of others?

The same questions raged through Brienne's mind as she diligently went about her duties and tried to focus on the items covered in her daily meetings with Lady Sansa. But it was hard to not let her mind be clouded. At least Sansa understood and forgave any of Brienne's lapses in concentration. Sansa and Pod were particularly considerate in that regard, even though they had accepted Brienne's consistent stubborn refusal to talk about the matter. They knew, more so than all the other residents at Winterfell, just how much Brienne had settled into her new life with her new partner. To have it all abruptly smashed and then for it to just disappear, as if it had never happened at all, was challenging enough for anyone to bear, let alone someone like Brienne, who had risked opening herself up in every way for the chance at this new life that had once promised to be so dazzling and blissful, but now just seemed like a silly fantasy.

At first, Brienne still rather foolishly clung to the hope that Jaime would change his mind, that he would turn around and come back for her. But he didn't. It was a terrible thing to love someone so willing to destroy himself. Not one hour passed when she didn't think of him. She saw Jaime everywhere she went in the castle grounds…every place they had talked, worked, strolled, laughed and kissed. He had left the ghost of his true self behind, but taken the rest of himself far away, along with their hopes and dreams for a better life, of a happy future together. She missed him so much. Her heart ached for him like never before. And yet Brienne refused to admit that she was feeling fragile or show for one second that she was suffering. She couldn't break. She wouldn't break.

While Brienne continued her work in the castle grounds, she closed her ears to any rumours or gossip from everyone around her about what was currently occurring at King's Landing. She didn't want to know anything about the events of the war unless the facts were absolutely certain. Besides, by remaining in this grey fog of hope and uncertainty, she was keeping Jaime alive. But Brienne knew she wouldn't be able to keep up her denial for much longer…and sure enough, it was only a few days later when she finally discovered the truth of what had happened down in the south.

Pod knocked on the library door tentatively, though Brienne wasn't sure why he bothered knocking at all; she'd left the door wide open deliberately, so that people could come and go as they pleased while she wrote out her letters and lists of supplies for the castle on a table in the corner of the room.

'Is there news?' Brienne asked him as he entered, putting down her quill.

'A raven, from King's Landing,' Pod replied, indicating the scroll in his hands.

Brienne rose to her feet, her heart lurching. 'Finally. What happened?' she asked urgently. 'And where's Lady Sansa? I thought she'd be here to discuss-'

'She's already read it, milady,' Pod said, and he closed the door behind them so that they were alone before slowly approaching her, a sorrowful expression on his face. 'I wanted to be the…she and I thought this would be better coming from me.'

Brienne felt her lips part and tremble; she rested her shaking hands on the table to steady them. 'Is it over? The war?'

'Y-yes. It seems it's over,' Pod said heavily. 'Sansa is making arrangements to travel south as soon as possible for a summit.'

Brienne's expression softened briefly. He'd addressed Lady Sansa without her title. She didn't need to be a genius to work out what that meant.

'Jon Snow and Lord Tyrion have both been imprisoned by the Unsullied, and there's to be a trial,' Pod went on, taking a look at what was written on the scroll, and Brienne gaped at him in shock. 'Representatives from all noble houses are expected to be present to discuss their fate and…the events of the battle.'

'I take it I'm to go to King's Landing as well?' Brienne asked.

'Yes…or what's left of it,' Pod replied, grimacing.

Brienne frowned at his tone. 'Tell me what happened.'

'Queen Cersei surrendered, but…Daenerys Targaryen, she…she burnt the city.'

'She what?' Brienne gasped, aghast.

'It seems Sansa was right to be suspicious of Daenerys, after all,' Pod said sadly. 'They rang the bells, but Daenerys…she slaughtered them anyway.'

Brienne slowly sank back into her seat, dismayed. 'That's terrible. And she expects Lady Sansa and everyone else to cooperate and bend the knee to her at this summit, I take it?'

'Err…not quite. She's dead,' Pod said awkwardly, and Brienne raised her eyebrows at him in alarm. 'Jon Snow stabbed her through the heart. Her dragon Drogon carried away her body, it says here.'

'Gods, that's quite a lot of information in that scroll, Pod. So…Jon Snow has been imprisoned for her murder,' Brienne murmured thoughtfully, and she sighed. 'His right as the heir to the Iron Throne will hold no resolve now. No doubt he'll be known as the…the Queenslayer from now on.'

'I fear so, milady.'

'But why is Tyrion on trial? What did he do?' Brienne asked, confused.

'H-he committed treason apparently, milady. He'd released…' Pod paused, seemingly unable to continue.

Brienne gave him a stern look. 'Go on.'

'He'd released Ser Jaime.'

Brienne let out a shaky gasp. She had wondered when his name would come up.

'Daenerys' forces had captured him on his way to the capital, but Tyrion set him free so that he could persuade Queen Cersei to surrender, apparently,' Pod explained.

'And to save her.'

'That as well, I believe.'

Brienne swallowed. 'And?'

Pod said nothing. He merely stared at her.

'What happened to Jaime and Cersei?' she prompted sharply. 'Did they make it out of there?'

There was another silence. A silence that meant Brienne already had her answer, and yet she still waited with bated breath for Pod to finally respond.

Eventually Pod took a great shuddering breath. 'They were found under some rubble at the bottom of the Red Keep,' he replied, and Brienne felt her stomach drop. 'It appears Ser Jaime had been trying to help Queen Cersei escape. He tried to save her from the destruction of the Red Keep…but apparently Drogon was very insistent on demolishing as much of the castle as possible.'

'He would have done nothing less,' Brienne murmured, her eyes and tone empty. 'Jaime…not Drogon, I mean.'

She felt a lump rise in her throat. It had been the first time she had said Jaime's name out loud since the day after he'd left Winterfell. It already felt unfamiliar in some ways. Blinking rapidly, Brienne looked up from the table to see that Pod's eyes were filled with tears. She stared back at him in horrified silence, almost refusing to believe it.

'Pod, I…' she said unsteadily. 'I need you to say it.'

'Milady?'

'Please,' Brienne said, and her voice shook. 'I've known it for a while, I knew it the night he left, but…I need to hear it.'

Pod hesitated. And then he spoke the words that Brienne knew would never stop haunting her, for as long as she lived.

'Ser Jaime is dead, milady.'

Neither of them were quite sure how long the silence lasted after he said that. It could have been seconds, it could have been minutes. All they knew for certain was that Brienne's world was crashing in all around her, leaving her with nothing but a hollow ache in her chest, and there was nothing either of them could do to stop it. Pod watched her carefully, trying to determine whether or not she was about to fall from her chair and break down into fits of anguished tears or possibly even faint. But Brienne merely stared at him, seeing nothing, with only the quiver of her chin as a slight indicator of the nightmarish pain and agony raging within her.

Brienne then cleared her throat. 'Thank you, Pod,' she said, getting back up to her feet. 'Does Lady Sansa need help preparing for our trip south?'

Pod looked perplexed by her sudden change in attitude. 'Milady, you can stay here-'

'I will be going with Lady Sansa to King's Landing for the summit,' Brienne cut over him firmly. 'Besides, they need someone to represent Tarth. When does she wish to depart?'

'Tomorrow at dawn…' Pod said, still confused. 'But milady, you've just received some bad-'

'We all receive bad news in these times, Pod, and we all carry on,' Brienne said dismissively as she moved around the table. 'I am strong.'

'You're the strongest person I know, milady,' Pod said, and he reached out to touch her arm. 'But there are times when you're allowed to let your guard down.'

Brienne shrugged him off her. 'That's where you're wrong. I'll never be making that mistake again,' she said fiercely. 'Now for tomorrow, we'll need to pack-'

But Pod interrupted her calmly. 'I've got it handled, milady. Sansa and I are sorting everything, along with her handmaiden. Why don't you…go to your room and pack your things?' he suggested gently. 'I'm here if you need me.'

Brienne considered him for a moment, then nodded abruptly and turned to leave, having forgotten about her letters and lists on the table. As she opened the door, Pod called after her.

'Milady,' he said, and she turned around to face him. 'I'm sorry for your loss.'

For one moment he thought he saw Brienne's face crumble but then the moment was gone as quickly as it had come, and her mask was quickly back on.

'I lost him five weeks ago. Nothing's different. We carry on,' Brienne said firmly.

Pod sighed heavily as she left the library and closed the door behind her. He hated to see her grieving in silence, but there was nothing he could do. He could only help comfort her and be there for her when she let him…but he couldn't see that ever happening.

Brienne headed upstairs as if in a trance. She wasn't sure what time it was, or even what day it was. The corridor to her bedchambers seemed longer than usual, and the walls were spinning. Perhaps the cold was making her dizzy. She was nearly at her door when she lost her balance; she reached out with her hand and held onto the wall, stopping to take a breath. A single tear she hadn't realised she'd been holding leaked out and trickled down her cheek as she tried to exhale deeply.

Pull yourself together.

She pushed open the door and stumbled through, where she sat down on the bed, numb. She was bereft and torn with sorrow and yet in some ways she could feel nothing; there was only a hollow, empty hole where her heart had once been. She couldn't even cry. The tears just wouldn't come.

He's dead. He's not coming back. He's dead.

Her eyes fell to one of Jaime's shirts, which she had left draped on the chair. She crossed the room to pick it up, and drew it close to her face, almost cuddling it. The shirt had once smelt of him, but the scent had long gone. Brienne undressed and put Jaime's shirt on before getting under the fur covers of her bed. The grief was pulling her down, telling her that all was lost, that there was no hope left for her in this miserable world.

He can't be gone. He can't be.

Jaime had been guiding her towards a different life…but the life she had begun to know, the life she had dreamed of with him, was now over. She didn't know what was true anymore. She didn't know what or who she could believe. She had finally felt settled, stable, secure. Safe. But now she was all alone again, without her guide, without the man she loved to rise for.

She just wanted to sleep and forget. Perhaps, if she concentrated hard enough and let her imagination take over, she'd be able to dream of him, of happier times when he'd slept here in this bed beside her, with his arm draped over her waist, his face nuzzled in her neck. But to do that would mean thinking of him, and if Brienne thought too deeply about him, she would crack and crumble into pieces. And she couldn't do that; Sansa needed her. She needed to be ready for tomorrow. And so Brienne refused to succumb to the darkness and simply lay there, craving for sleep to come while she tried to erase the Kingslayer from her mind.

The next morning dawned bright and early, but Brienne had been up and about long before then. Sansa's belongings had all been packed in the carriage, and the horses and men were all ready to begin their travels. It was only Sansa's whereabouts that Brienne wasn't completely sure of, but that soon became clear when Sansa surreptitiously emerged from the set of steps that led to Brienne's and Pod's bedchambers. Sansa was trying not to smile the whole morning and her cheeks turned a shade of crimson that clashed magnificently with her hair when Pod joined them for breakfast before they departed, but Brienne said nothing.

That had once been me, Brienne thought wistfully.

They set off not long after they had eaten. Brienne took one last look at Winterfell before they rode through the gates, wondering how long it would be until they returned. She wouldn't miss her bedchambers or the courtyard or the great hall…or anywhere, in fact. Those locations were all too painful for her now. When once they had been places of laughter and joy, they now only made her miserable. Perhaps it would be good to get some distance from this place.

Pod rode beside Brienne as they headed out towards the harbour, but remained silent, knowing that Brienne had no wish to talk. She'd barely spoken to anyone unless absolutely necessary since Pod had broken the news to her yesterday. He wished he could reassure her that, after some time, she would recover and it would be all right. People left and people died all the time, but Jaime would never really leave them, not for good. Even though he was no longer in this world, a part of him would always remain behind, Pod was sure of it. But looking at Brienne now as they rode together, he saw that she didn't believe that. She looked like an emotionless statue that had barely come to life. There was nothing in her face or her eyes. There was nothing at all – just a knight making her way to King's Landing. The happy woman full of joy and laughter from last month might never have existed at all.

Before turning in the direction of the harbour, Brienne found herself drawing her horse to a halt as she gazed out longingly at the kingsroad. She wondered which route Jaime had taken last month, and whether the kingsroad would have been the quickest way for him to get the capital. It made her think of all the hazardous complex routes she'd fashioned through bushes and fields and dwindling paths in the middle of lonely forests through the Riverlands when Lady Catelyn had set them both on their mission years ago. She could remember how much easier it had been when they'd continued their travels after Harrenhal in the company of armed soldiers to lead their way and protect them. Looking back now, that was the one journey Brienne had taken through Westeros that she'd actually somewhat enjoyed.

How she wished she could go back to those days now.

* * *

The sun was just beginning to set when Steelshanks finally came to a halt and called out to his men.

'We should stop here, it's getting dark. Ser Jaime?'

Finally satisfied that they were far away enough from Harrenhal, Jaime gave a firm nod. 'Yes,' he agreed. 'Here's as good a place as any to make camp.'

They had reached the outskirts of a forest – not too far away from the main road, but far enough so that they were secluded and hopefully wouldn't be disturbed. If they were, at least they were with a big group of armed soldiers; any bandits and outlaws wouldn't stand a chance against them. Jaime scrambled down from the horse and turned to Brienne in her torn, blood-soaked pink gown.

She was still in a bit of a daze. She could remember vividly how just a few weeks ago he'd kept saying to Locke about how uncomfortable he'd felt tied up to Brienne on the horse, how he didn't like being close to her. He didn't seem to mind that anymore, though.

'Be careful, her wounds will be fragile,' Qyburn called over in his concerned, unsteady voice.

Jaime reached up to help her; Brienne held onto his shoulders reluctantly and he lifted her down from the horse, his arms sure and strong. Steelshanks and his men noticed but Jaime found that he didn't care.

Let them talk.

Jaime let go of Brienne quickly and they turned away from each other, flustered. He'd never touched her nor any woman apart from Cersei like that before.

'If you want to find a place to rest, my lady,' Qyburn suggested, 'while I find the right supplies for you.'

Brienne traipsed over the red and brown leaves to have a walk around the forest clearing instead. She was fed up of resting and being treated like an invalid. Yes, she was in severe pain thanks to that stupid bear, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. Jaime watched her with a frown, irritated by her sullen silence and the way she kept glancing back at him as if unsure about who he was. Their bickering had become something constant, something familiar he had been able to hold onto…something he had even grown fond of. But now she was merely a shadow of her former self, stunned into silence. She wasn't even scowling as she usually did, and it unnerved him.

Jaime groaned, infuriated, as he walked after her, trying not to trip over the skirt of her ripped dress. 'Maybe I should have left you for the bear, it's better than you being this quiet. Are you going to keep giving me those odd looks or are you going to come out with it?' he snapped.

Her arms folded, Brienne turned to face him then, her eyebrows raised. '"Sorry about the sapphires"?'

Jaime stopped, surprised. He was stunned by her expression; it was the first time he had ever seen a hint of a slight smile on her face. He hadn't even known that she could smile.

'Well I had to seize the last word, didn't I?' he said, mildly amused.

A silence fell between them as they simply looked at each other, bemused frowns on both their faces as they tried to figure the other one out.

'Why did you come back?' Brienne asked.

Jaime stared at her for a moment, panicking as he tried to think of something to say. 'Does it matter?' he said airily. 'I came back, I got you out of there, we're finally on our way to King's Landing, let's focus on that-'

'Ser Jaime,' she said in a voice that forced him to stop, and Jaime reluctantly looked up at her. 'You were well away, you'd left Harrenhal many hours ago. You weren't even armed. I don't understand why you would…do what you did.'

If Brienne was trying to understand his motivations, Jaime wished her all the best; he barely understood himself. Thinking back to what had been going through his mind when he'd seen her in the bear pit, he realised that he hadn't actually thought that he could save her. He just hadn't been able to let her die alone. Not like that.

'If it helps, I don't understand it either,' Jaime admitted, and he sighed heavily. 'We've been through…a lot together. I couldn't just leave you there. We're a team now, you and I….as much as we hate it. It's probably best if we stick together, don't you think?'

There was a stunned silence as Brienne stared at him. His voice was so much softer around her now.

'I am…very grateful,' she said quietly.

'You shouldn't be,' Jaime mumbled, turning away and looking around at the trees to hide his embarrassment. 'It was my lie about the sapphires on Tarth that landed you in that mess in the first place.'

A lie he had told to protect her honour. He had risked his life twice for her. Brienne didn't recognise him as the man Lady Catelyn had released into her charge. She didn't recognise him at all. But she was slowly beginning to understand that she now knew the kind of man he was.

'Not that it matters, but just so you know, I…' Brienne trailed off and cleared her throat. 'I don't hate it, Ser Jaime. You and I as a team, I mean. Not anymore.'

Jaime's lips parted as he considered her. He could see that she was irritated with herself for saying those words, but that she meant them as well. His face softened.

'Nor I,' he said quietly.

They then heard the rustle of leaves as Qyburn came over with his bag of medical supplies and equipment.

'Sit down please, let's get you looked at,' Qyburn said, getting out his things.

Brienne obliged and sat down against the nearest tree. Qyburn crouched down beside her…as did Jaime.

'You don't mind if I stay?' Jaime asked them both.

Brienne and Qyburn exchanged a bewildered glance, then shook their head at him simultaneously. Jaime watched as Qyburn treated the wounds on Brienne's arm from the bear attack, trying to memorise in detail what he was doing so he could help in future over the duration of their journey to the capital. To try and distract herself from the pain while Qyburn stitched some of the skin on her arm and dressed it in a bandage, Brienne focussed instead on Jaime. His hair was so long now that it curled over his forehead. Brienne rather liked it, despite its greasy lank texture. She also noticed that his wrists were chafed raw from the manacles he had worn while captive. It filled her with guilt.

'These will need cleaning daily,' Qyburn said, as he turned his attention to the gashes on her neck and eyed them worriedly.

'I'll help – whatever needs to be done, just let me know,' Jaime said, leaving Brienne baffled.

'I'd prefer to sear the wounds-'

'No,' Jaime said firmly, making it clear with his tone and the look in his eyes that that was that.

He didn't want her to go through any pain similar to what he'd experienced when Qyburn had burnt and cut away the rotted, infected flesh from his stump back at Harrenhal. Brienne was the last person who deserved such a horrific experience, and for some reason Jaime saw Brienne as his personal responsibility now. He wouldn't let any harm come to her.

Once Qyburn had finished treating Brienne, Steelshanks sent a few of his men out hunting; they soon returned with a few rabbits for them to roast over the fire and share between the group while the sky darkened above them. As the evening went on, Brienne found herself feeling increasingly alarmed by how new and unfamiliar and strange it felt between herself and Jaime. It wasn't like he was trying to put on his golden-lion charms towards her, of course not – she knew he'd never want nor need to bother with that – but still…even his half-hearted insults were not as serious as Jaime intended Steelshanks and his men to believe. There was something different in Jaime that she hadn't seen before, and she knew it wasn't just because of his story about the Mad King. Their encounter with Locke had made him softer somehow. Perhaps even slightly compassionate. How else could she explain why he suddenly cared for her health and wellbeing?

'So here we are…on the road again,' Jaime said while they ate, and Brienne cast him a wary glance. 'Slightly different than it was before Harrenhal, which can only be a good thing.'

'Yes,' Brienne agreed somewhat nervously, as she tried to come up with something to match his light tone. 'You're not covered in mud this time.'

'Indeed, see – it's always good to look on the bright side. Gods, I was covered in it, wasn't I?' Jaime said, half-repulsed, half-amused at the memory. 'The mud was absolutely everywhere in me, honestly-'

'I know well enough, thank you, I had to wash it out of your ears,' Brienne interrupted him shortly.

Jaime smirked but before he could retort back, he overheard one of Steelshanks' men nearby mentioning something about a 'married couple' as he watched them and chuckled, so Jaime kept his mouth shut and continued to eat his supper in silence after that.

By the time they had all finished eating and warming themselves by the fire, the sky was black and everyone began finding places around the clearing to get settled and go to sleep for the night. Steelshanks had given Brienne a spare bedroll and blanket; she was grateful, though doubted she would be able to go to sleep with all these strange men around…and particularly with Jaime. He had been cursing loudly for the past five minutes as he tried but failed to remove his cloak from over his head. It was driving her mad.

'Oh, just stop shouting!' Brienne snapped eventually.

Jaime stopped, his cloak halfway up his head. 'I…I'm really not shouting,' he said. 'Also, why do you get to suddenly dictate what volume I speak at?'

'Because I have a headache and you were really irritating me,' Brienne replied.

'Oh,' Jaime said apologetically, finally managing to toss the cloak over his head and onto the leaf-strewn ground. 'Qyburn might have something for your headache.'

'I'll be fine. Thank you.'

'You know, if I were to give you a tip, knight to knight-'

'I'm not a knight.'

Jaime titled his head at her sceptically. 'You're as good as,' he said, and Brienne felt a strange warmth surge through her at his words. 'If you want a piece of my advice, learn how to take off your armour with one hand. It'll make things simpler for you should this ever happen in your life, though you should pray it doesn't.'

He was indicating his stump. Brienne frowned at him.

'You're not wearing any armour,' she pointed out.

'Exactly. I'm having enough trouble with these simple rags, imagine how tough it's going to be once I'm back in my Kingsguard uniform,' Jaime said; the thought was almost laughable…he could see Cersei's and Tywin's reactions already, and for a mad moment he considered commanding everyone to pack up, turn and head back in the opposite direction…anything to avoid such humiliation.

'Have you missed it?' Brienne asked, as Jaime sat down next to her bedroll.

'Missed what?'

'The Kingsguard.'

Jaime hesitated. 'It's my duty,' he replied, and Brienne raised her eyebrows at him.

'But do you enjoy it?' she pressed.

'Why? Are you experiencing 'Kingsguard envy'?' Jaime teased.

'That would depend on the king,' Brienne said dryly, and she gave him a sceptical look. 'Right now, I'm not so envious.'

Jaime's nostrils flared as he stared at her, suddenly enraged. 'You know I could have your tongue cut out for that,' he said in a dangerously quiet voice. 'You insult my nephew, and I could abandon you here on the kingsroad, I could tell Steelshanks to put a sword through you, I could drag you to the dungeons of the Red Keep all just for insulting my House and our king like that.'

Brienne seemed unperturbed by his threats. 'Yes, you could. But you won't,' she said coolly.

Jaime scoffed. 'What makes you so sure?'

'Because you told me the truth of the Sack of King's Landing. And you saved me from that bear – you wouldn't let all that effort and time go to waste just because I said something you didn't want to hear,' Brienne said thoughtfully. 'And also because I think you share my views on King Joffrey, regardless of him being your 'nephew', and you'd like us to be able to speak freely to each other.'

Jaime's lips twitched slightly as he watched her, but she had her eyes focussed on the flames of the campfire in front of them, trying not to look too smug. He was glad he had found her. And he was no longer ashamed or afraid to show that he liked her, not just as a person, but as a friend.

'Go on then. Speak freely,' Jaime said, fascinated, as he turned to face her. 'What else is it that you'd like to say?'

Brienne hesitated as she turned to consider him. 'That I've figured you out.'

'Oh really?' Jaime said, almost playfully.

'You call me a beast, but you're the one who's been so fixated on acting like one. But that's all it is. Just an act,' Brienne said unabashedly.

Jaime's smile had disappeared. Her confidence irritated him somewhat, almost as much as the words she spoke.

'Is that so?' he said, almost angrily.

'I believe so, yes.'

Jaime knew that she was right, though he hated to admit it himself. He prided himself on being a lion, he always had, but he was a lion with a thorn in his paw, regardless of the loss of his hand. He was in deep emotional pain, and possibly had been for a great many years now. And there was no point in him even trying to hide that from Brienne, not when he had let her see his true colours in the bathtub and in Qyburn's quarters.

'Well two can play at that game,' Jaime said irritably, leaning towards her as he considered her carefully. 'You try and be as unfeminine as possible because you hate that you were born without a cock – or rather, you pretend to hate it. You force your life to be all about swords and armour and fighting and honour, when really deep down you're a woman with a woman's feelings and desires, same as the rest. You just try to hide it. Only you're not as good as you think at it.'

'And what feelings and desires might they be?' Brienne asked sceptically, her tone and expression full of disdain.

A lump rose in Jaime's throat; oddly, he felt rather nervous. 'I…well, your dearest Renly would have been better at answering that, wouldn't you say?' he said without thinking.

He closed his eyes and groaned the moment he'd said it, but the damage was already done. Glaring at him as she tried to breathe deeply and remain calm, Brienne then began to struggle up to her feet to move away from him, but groaned as the pain from her injuries flared up again.

'Sit down,' Jaime muttered exasperatedly, reaching out and pulling her back to the ground by the skirt of her dress. 'Qyburn said you should rest, you'd be wise to listen to him for once.'

'Fine,' Brienne snapped irritably. 'Then could I ask you to shut up and leave me alone?'

Jaime sighed. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought up Renly,' he murmured.

'That's what you do best though, isn't it? You're hurting, so you lash out at the nearest person to you and know exactly what to use against them,' Brienne said coldly.

Jaime frowned. 'I'm not hurting.'

'Yes you are,' Brienne insisted. 'We all are, in some way or another. But you are more than most, and you've been in denial of that for years.'

'You don't know me,' Jaime said, shaking his head at her.

Brienne raised her eyebrows. 'Don't I?'

Jaime stared at her. He'd told her himself that she was the only one he'd told about Aerys. He had never exposed himself or opened up like that to anyone, not even Cersei or Tyrion. Perhaps Brienne did know him, better than anyone else. The thought scared him. Being alone at last with her, facing this hard truth, finally away from threat and free to talk after their expedition with Locke and at Harrenhal…it was too much. It felt like he was in the company of someone completely different to the captor whom he'd so despised upon first meeting.

He sighed wearily. 'You should get some sleep. You need it,' he murmured. 'Do you want another blanket? That dress is rather…'

They both looked at the tears and rips on her blood-stained gown, the gap in the material running up between her legs, the low-cut bodice exposing her cleavage. Brienne felt her cheeks redden.

'No, I'm fine with this one, but thank you,' Brienne said quietly, clutching her blanket as she looked warily at the bedroll she'd laid out on the ground.

Brienne hadn't tried sleeping out in the open without a sword before, or without Jaime either tied to a rope or in chains. But here he was free. Free to do whatever he liked. He could run away, he could hurt or kill her. He could do anything. But it wasn't Jaime she was worried about, she realised. There were quite a few other men in their camp, watching them both with beady eyes. What if some of them were just like Locke?

Jaime seemed to sense her fears. 'What, do you think I'm going to run off in the night and leave you with this lot?' he said, raising his eyebrows at her.

'No. No, I don't think that.'

'Good,' Jaime said with a roll of his eyes. 'Because I'd be bloody angry if you did.'

Brienne looked around at the men uneasily. 'I don't have my armour,' she said in a small voice.

Jaime knew now why she'd constantly worn her armour every night when it had just been the two of them – for protection. She had built a fortress inside herself. And now she had nothing but a torn, revealing dress to cover herself with.

Jaime leaned towards her. 'I'll make sure we get you some decent clothes tomorrow. And…tonight, I'll keep watch. I won't let any of them touch you,' he promised in a low voice so that no one else could hear, and Brienne looked up at him, stunned by his gaze. 'Not that they would want to, let's be honest,' he added hastily.

Brienne stared at him.

'What? You're still covered in dirt and blood and you've got a great ugly gash there. Not a pretty sight,' Jaime said, chuckling. 'Perhaps another bath would do you good.'

Brienne tilted her head at him. He smirked.

'Does it hurt? There?' Jaime asked, indicating the gashes on her neck.

'It's fine,' Brienne muttered dismissively, shrugging him off.

Jaime sighed. 'This hurts too,' he said, pointing at the stump on his right arm. 'A lot.'

She wanted to ask him why he was being so nice to her. But for some reason the words couldn't fall from her lips.

'I can still feel my fingers. It's strange, isn't it? I wake up every night with this searing agony, and I think my hand's still there. And then I look down and see it's gone. This massive part of me. Just gone,' Jaime said thoughtfully, and he sighed as he leaned back heavily against the tree trunk. 'Sorry. I know how tiring my complaining was before Harrenhal, you must be fed up with it, it's been incessant.'

'For good reason,' Brienne said sympathetically. 'You lost your sword hand.'

Jaime raised an eyebrow at her, confused. 'I thought you didn't think that much of an issue to whine and moan about.'

'That was when you'd given up,' Brienne muttered. 'But you're carrying on now. And you have every right to complain.'

'Thank you. So do you, by the way. We've both had a rather rough time of it, haven't we, you and I?' Jaime said wearily.

'Well let us hope for no more misadventure from now on.'

'Let us hope…' Jaime murmured, and he looked at her. 'Get some sleep. We have another long ride tomorrow.'

Brienne frowned, clearly uncomfortable. 'You need rest as well.'

'How about this – we take it in turns to keep watch?' Jaime suggested.

'All right,' Brienne said grudgingly.

She lay back on her bedroll and covered herself with her blanket, though she kept her eyes wide open as she stared across at the other side of the camp, keeping a firm eye on Steelshanks' men. Jaime began to chuckle beside her.

'Close your eyes. I'm right here, I won't let them anywhere near,' he reassured her, amused but also saddened by her fear.

Brienne groaned in defeat and tried closing her eyes. Jaime quietly moved his bedroll and sheepskin blanket near to hers and sat there for a while, watching the other men as they finished their drinks and began settling down for the night. Soon enough, they were all snoring. Jaime turned to face Brienne; she was breathing deeply, her face still strained even in sleep. He crept over and draped his cloak over her blanket, in case she got cold during the night.

He watched her for a while as she slept, mesmerized. They were two strangers, who had been raised in completely different worlds. Their lives had been so different. It didn't make sense for them to connect in such a way, and yet somehow this woman was making him someone new as they travelled to the city he was almost afraid to go back to. It was one of the longest journeys of Jaime's life, and yet bizarrely he felt the effects of it were more mental than physical…and that was including the loss of his hand. He wondered if he would feel that way so strongly if it had been anyone other than Brienne who had escorted him away from the pen in Robb Stark's camp.

After a few hours, Jaime could barely keep his eyes open, but he didn't wake Brienne. She needed the sleep more than anyone, and he trusted these men to not harm her, particularly when he was so close to her side. Besides, everyone knew in this group that Jaime was the one who was really in charge, not Steelshanks. So he let himself slide back onto his bedroll and under his blanket, and the moment his head hit the ground, he'd lost consciousness.

When Jaime woke up the next morning, he could hear Steelshanks and a few others already walking about the camp, talking about getting food for breakfast before resuming their journey. Blinking as his eyes came into focus, Jaime then realised that he had rolled over in his sleep and was pressed close to Brienne; no wonder he was so warm. His arm was on top of hers, his good hand around her forearm. Stunned, Jaime slowly removed it, unaware of the slight smile on Brienne's lips as she pretended to still be asleep. Shaking his head at himself in bemusement, Jaime then slowly sat up and looked down at her, content to see that she was safe and rested. He leaned over and tucked the blanket and his cloak more securely around her, making sure the gash on her neck was covered up, before getting to his feet and walked over to talk to Steelshanks. Brienne's eyes flickered open as she watched him go, her heart fluttering slightly, though unaware of Jaime's rare satisfied smile as he walked away.

He had made many bad decisions in his life…but going back to rescue Brienne of Tarth from Harrenhal was certainly not one of them.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

The broken remains of the tall double gates were pushed unsteadily open to reveal what was left of the city that had briefly been Brienne's home, and a scene of total devastation met their eyes. Daenerys Targaryen's destructive rampage across the capital had resulted in a tragedy unlike anything Brienne had ever seen before. King's Landing had been completely decimated, and Brienne, Sansa and Pod could barely recognise the graveyard of buildings and bodies as they led the way into the remains of the city they had all managed to escape years ago.

From the white blanket that covered the debris and charred bodies scattered throughout the streets, one might think they were in Winterfell, but this was certainly not the North, and it was certainly not snow. Endless thick layers of ash lay on the roads, roofs and rubble. Countless buildings had been destroyed, their collapsing debris having crushed many innocent civilians to death – Jaime being one of them, Brienne thought tearfully. It only took one look down the main road to deduce that thousands of smallfolk had been killed. Their flesh had been burnt away, leaving nothing but their bones and skulls that had been blackened and scorched by the extreme heat of the fires; Brienne felt her insides churn as they slowly walked past them, everyone in their entourage too stunned by the horrifying sights to speak. It wasn't just Drogon either; it was clear that the Unsullied and Dothraki armies had slaughtered the city just as brutally as the dragon's flames.

A few remaining civilians were removing bodies and clearing paths – a task they had no doubt set themselves to many weeks ago – but most of those who had survived had scarpered and run for the North, and Brienne could hardly blame them. What was there left here to stay behind for? The city had been annihilated…everywhere from Blackwater Bay and the slums of Flea Bottom all the way to the Red Keep. Up ahead, they could see that many sections of the Red Keep had collapsed, although a few integral structural pieces and towers of the castle remained upright.

Brienne couldn't bear to think of all the casualties…there must have been hundreds of thousands of people, soldiers and civilians alike, whose lives had been brutally taken from them that day.

The deadliest day in Westerosi history, Brienne thought sombrely.

'I never thought I'd be back here,' Pod murmured as they walked through the deserted remains of the main road.

Brienne shook her head sombrely. 'Nor I.'

'We're not,' Sansa said, her voice cold and empty. 'This isn't King's Landing anymore. It's just a ruin.'

She wasn't wrong. If Brienne had thought that Winterfell had been bad enough after the battle against the White Walkers, it was nothing compared to this. It would take months, probably years, to rebuild the city that had once been so busy and thriving, so full of life and excitement and danger. That was all gone now. The inns, the blacksmiths, the stalls, the homes, the families, the workers…all turned to nothing but ash and rubble.

As they continued their way towards the Red Keep, Brienne caught sight of the other pair of gates in the city, and came to an unsteady halt. If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost see her younger self walking through those gates, dressed in those drab brown clothes they had found on the Kingsroad for her, watching Jaime with concern as he'd trudged back into his old world, exhausted and in pain and weary from their travels.

'Step aside, country boy,' she could distinctly remember hearing one of the smallfolk snap at him.

She could picture the fear and dread in his eyes as Jaime had glanced up towards the Red Keep, just as she was doing right now. Back then, he had fought so hard to get back to King's Landing, and yet the moment he'd traipsed through the gates, it had become clear to both himself and Brienne that he'd no longer belonged in the capital. And yet he'd still gone back. Just as he always did. He always went back in the end.

A lump in her throat, Brienne looked down and turned away from the gates as she followed Sansa, Pod and the rest of the Northern force that had accompanied them down the rest of the broken remains of the street.

The Dragonpit was one of the few places in the city that Drogon had left alone, and so had been decided to be the best place to hold the summit. The moment she entered the empty clearing and saw the podium and canopy in the centre, Brienne felt a sudden wave of nausea. She thought of the look of panic and anger in Jaime's eyes as he'd marched past her when they had met here months ago in this very location. She thought of the half-anxious half-longing glances they'd exchanged as they'd waited for Daenerys to arrive while trying not to think of the words and gazes exchanged during their last encounter at Riverrun. She thought of the way he'd turned away from her the moment he'd realised Cersei had been watching them.

She should never have forgotten about the way Cersei had controlled him that day. She should have seen it coming.

It only hit Brienne now as everyone in the proposed council took their seats on the podium for the summit that she would never unexpectedly run into Jaime again. She would never see him…no one would. He'd departed this world, and left her behind in it without him. Somewhat stupidly perhaps, she hadn't fully believed that that night would be her last time seeing him…her last time holding him, kissing him, looking into his eyes…If she'd known, if she'd truly known that that was it, perhaps she would have done more to try and save him. But he'd been beyond saving, she'd known that deep down. He'd taught her how to love, while Brienne had taught him how to live…but it hadn't been enough. He had chosen death over life, and she'd had no choice but to let him go.

The summit didn't last as long as Brienne had expected, for which she was grateful. She wanted to leave the Dragonpit as soon as possible, for it only reminded her of the last time she had seen Cersei, glaring away and snapping at Jaime. As hard as she might pretend otherwise, Brienne would always think of Cersei bitterly for being the reason for Jaime's death.

The council members had all been allocated accommodations in various parts of the city that had remained standing; some parts of the Red Keep, for instance, along with one inn. It was in this inn that Brienne found a dishevelled-looking Tyrion a few hours later, having retreated here at once to seek solace with numerous cups of wine. She couldn't tell whether he was celebrating the fact that he had avoided execution and been freed from his chains and released, or commiserating the fact that he had been appointed the responsibility of being Hand to the new king, Bran Stark. Tyrion didn't notice Brienne enter; he was too consumed in his drink to notice anything, she suspected. She looked around at the inn awkwardly, wishing suddenly that Pod were here with her. He had offered to stay with her, but Brienne had insisted that Sansa needed him more; she was deeply forlorn after it had been decided for Jon to be banished to the Night's Watch.

Brienne took a step forwards in the inn and regretted it almost at once as Tyrion looked up from his goblet. His beard was long and bushy, his face gaunt and drained. His face was the last one she wanted to see today, and yet here she was. She couldn't run away from him.

'Ser Brienne.' He looked surprised to see her.

'Lord Tyrion,' Brienne greeted, bowing her head. 'I'd ask how you are but…'

She trailed off, unable to look him in the eye. It was difficult to be in his presence, to be talking alone with him. The last time they had spoken, Tyrion had been wishing her and Jaime well, and expressing his excitement for her becoming a part of their family…his sister-in-law. How times had changed.

'I'm glad to be out of my cell,' Tyrion replied, grimacing. 'But that's about all I'm glad for. How are you?'

'I…' But Brienne broke off. There were no words to describe how she was.

A lump rose to Tyrion's throat as he looked down, ashamed. 'I'm so sorry for what he did…and for what happened,' he murmured. 'Truly, I am.'

Brienne nodded slowly, still unable to meet his sympathetic gaze. 'I am as well. Do you know if I can see him?' she asked. 'Or…has he already been buried?'

There was a small pause. Tyrion looked deeply uncomfortable.

'Their bodies were burned two weeks ago,' he said eventually, and his voice broke.

Brienne's lip quivered. 'I see.'

She'd wanted to see him, to say a final goodbye. But perhaps this was for the best. It had been over a month since the slaughter of the capital, when the ceiling had caved in on him. Seeing Jaime's rotting, broken body that had been crushed to death by rocks might have well and truly destroyed her.

'With our new king's permission, I'll be taking Cersei's ashes to Casterly Rock, so she can rest beside our mother's grave. It's what she would have wanted,' Tyrion said, and he scoffed bitterly. 'Besides, it's not like there are any crypts left here to bury them in, Cersei made sure of that.'

'And Jaime's?' Brienne asked tentatively, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

'I…I haven't quite decided yet. Casterly Rock never meant much to him. Neither did King's Landing,' Tyrion grumbled, and Brienne frowned.

'But Cersei did. He would have wanted to be with Cersei.'

Tyrion's eyes filled with pity as he gazed imploringly up at Brienne, realising that she truly believed what she'd just said. 'He wouldn't. He didn't like that part of himself, Ser Brienne,' he said, his tone half-earnest, half-firm. 'I won't have him laid to rest beside the woman who poisoned his mind and drove him to his death.'

Brienne stared at him. She could feel her chin beginning to quiver.

I need to get out of here.

With a brief nod, Brienne then turned on her heel and hurried out of the inn; Tyrion opened his mouth in dismay to call after her, but for the first time in his life, words failed him.

It took a while for Brienne to stop the shakiness of her breaths as she walked in a daze away from the inn and towards the Red Keep, but eventually she managed to regain some control. For some reason, her feet seemed to know where they wanted to take her without Brienne even registering it, and before she knew it she found herself in the gardens of the Red Keep…or rather, what remained of them. The dead plants were covered in ash and the breeze was far chillier than the warm one she'd gotten used to back when she had lived here, but the sound of the waves from the sea down below were just as she'd remembered. Brienne's eyes then fell to the bench that she had sat on during her first day here to mourn the loss of Catelyn Stark. She thought of the way Jaime had sat there at her side, his hand on her shoulder as he'd awkwardly tried to console her.

'Look at me. I'm a complete joke.'

'You're not to me.'

Her lips trembling, Brienne turned away from the bench and the gardens, and hurried into the castle, her armour clunking noisily in her desperation to get away.

She wished she could hear his voice again, or just see a portrait of his face. What if she would end up forgetting the way his tone could change so quickly from sly and humorous to smooth and seductive when he spoke? What if she would start to forget the grey in his beard, the crinkled lines around his eyes, his scruffy hair, the way his gaze would turn so adoring whenever he smiled dazedly at her? What if all that became lost to her in a few years' time? How could she bear it?

The reminders that hit her everywhere she went in this place were painful beyond belief, and yet they were also necessary. They helped keep him alive to her, in a way…even though she knew there was no bringing him back.

'How was Lord Tyrion?' a voice then said out of nowhere.

Brienne spun around, shocked to see that Pod had emerged not far from her in one of the remaining corridors of the Red Keep. She hadn't even heard him approach. That wasn't like her at all.

'He was fine. Well no, he's in mourning for his brother and sister, so of course he's not fine,' Brienne said shortly. 'But he also somehow managed to decide the future of Westeros while on trial for his life and in chains, so I have a feeling that he'll always be fine in some way.'

Pod nodded heavily, his brow creased in concern as he tilted his head at her. 'And how are you?'

'I wish you and Lady Sansa would stop asking me that,' Brienne muttered irritably.

She knew they meant well, but the way they constantly asked after her welfare and gave her such worried looks as if she was something fragile and weak and about to break was testing her reserve. Pod sighed wearily as she turned her back on him, trying to take slow, deep breaths.

'We care about you, milady, and we're worried about you,' Pod said, frowning. 'Shutting yourself away like this isn't good for-'

'I appreciate your concern, Pod,' Brienne cut over him sharply as she turned to face him, 'but you don't get to decide what is and isn't good for me. I can cope with this in the way I see fit, in the only way I know how.'

But Pod wouldn't accept that. 'I know what guilt does to a person, milady. I saw it in Ser Jaime, and look what it did to him,' he said, making Brienne flinch. 'You can't let it rule over you.'

Brienne frowned at him, confused. 'Guilt?'

He sighed sympathetically. 'I know you, milady,' he murmured. 'I know how your mind works.'

She knew what he was referring to. Neither of them would forget one of their many intimate conversations they'd shared while on the road searching for Sansa…the day Brienne had opened up to Pod about her past…

'Nothing is more hateful than failing to protect the one you love.'

But of course, just as Brienne felt that way about Jaime, Jaime had felt that way about Cersei. It was why he had left Brienne the first place. She understood it. She just wasn't sure if she was quite ready to forgive it.

Brienne flared her nostrils at Pod, wishing he wasn't able to read her so well. 'Fine. I couldn't save him,' she snapped. 'I let him go, and I didn't even try to go after him, and that will probably remain the deepest regret of my life. But what good would it have done? Even if I had managed to save him and bring him back…he wouldn't have been able to bear it. He would have hated me, almost as much as he hates himself. Hated himself.'

As she corrected herself, she clutched Oathkeeper more tightly to her and stared at the hilt. She had kept Oathkeeper close to her side ever since Jaime had left, as if unable to let go of it.

Pod knew what she was feeling. She was terrified that her memories of Jaime would one day disappear. But Pod knew differently. There would always be a trace of Jaime left. He would never be gone from her forever. He was with her still, and always would be. Pod just didn't know how he could help Brienne see that when she was so determined to close herself off from him and everyone else around her.

'Milady, you know I'm here to talk to, don't you?' Pod said softly, taking a tentative step towards her. 'You're going through something horrible, and…I don't want you to bear it alone.'

But Brienne laughed sceptically, an unnatural sound that only made Pod feel more forlorn. 'Why should I inflict it on you, or anyone for that matter? Why should I give into it, when all it will do is make things worse?' she pointed out. 'Maybe you're right, maybe I do feel guilty, but more than that, I feel angry, Pod. He left me! I trusted him, and he left me. No matter what he may have said or done, it doesn't change the fact that he wanted to die with her more than he wanted to live with me. And I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive him for that.'

'I'm not sure if it was about what he wanted,' Pod said imploringly, desperate to make her see. 'I didn't know him that well, but…it seemed to me he felt he didn't have a choice.'

Something in his tone made Brienne look up at him, her eyes searching his carefully. Pod averted his gaze, but it was too late. She'd already seen what he'd been long trying to hide.

'You spoke to him, didn't you? Before he left,' she said in a low, quiet voice. 'You knew what he was planning.'

There was a pause. Pod looked overcome with guilt and sorrow.

'Not as such. And I never thought he would go through with it,' he said earnestly, and Brienne scrunched her eyes tightly shut as the pain came flooding through in another wave. 'Forgive me, milady, he swore me to secrecy. I thought I was protecting you by keeping silent.'

'I know, Pod. You don't need to ask for forgiveness,' Brienne said heavily, and she sighed. 'I understand…I know how persuasive he can be. Could be.'

She kept doing that. She still wasn't used to talking about him in the past tense. It only seemed like yesterday when his hand had been in hers as they'd walked happily along the snowy hilltops of Winterfell…a world away now. As Brienne looked down sadly, Pod took another tentative step forward.

'I was very fond of Ser Jaime, milady,' he said gently. 'I'd had little to do with him before he came to Winterfell, but…he looked out for me, he was nice, and I could see how much he cared about you…and, well, how happy he made you. I'd never seen you laugh or smile like that before. So…I liked him very much. Not that that would mean anything to you, but I just wanted you to know…' He trailed off awkwardly.

Brienne's quivering lips parted as his words sunk deep. 'I…'

She trailed off, her voice weak and unsteady as she tried to find the words to say, and then out of nowhere she burst into tears. Pod's lips parted in despair as he watched her break down before his very eyes, but it was relief he felt as Brienne walked into his open arms and sobbed into his hair while he wrapped his arms around the woman he'd long regarded his mother.

'It's all right, milady,' he murmured, blinking back tears. 'I'm here.'

'I-I'm sorry…' Brienne whimpered as the tears continued to cascade down her cheeks.

'You have nothing to be sorry for. You cry for as long as you like,' Pod said comfortingly as he rubbed her back. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

And so Brienne continued to sob, overwhelmingly grateful to have Pod in her life. She hadn't cried since the night Jaime had left…she hadn't even been able to cry the day she'd found out he had died. Because she hadn't let herself.

She had been cruel to herself, Brienne realised now. She had never given herself time to process the shock of the loss. She had rushed herself to recover and act as if her wounds were healed. Ever since the morning after Jaime had left, she had forced herself to pretend that all was well, whilst her body shook and the broken remains of her pounding heart continued to silently crumble. Perhaps it wasn't so wrong to weep for him after all, or to let others close to her see that she was suffering. Perhaps it was okay for her to ask for the comfort of someone's presence, for their shoulder to cry on. If there was one thing Jaime had taught Brienne, it was that she was valued and that she no longer needed to hide her true self from those around her. Perhaps he had been right; perhaps her pain deserved to be heard after all. And there was no one in this world better than Podrick Payne to help her through it.

Chapter Text

It was a few days later when Brienne found Lady Sansa in what remained of the Tower of the Hand; Sansa had just spoken with Tyrion for what Brienne presumed would be the last time before they left for Winterfell. As Brienne approached, her brow creased in concern; Sansa looked desperately forlorn. She had only just bid farewell to Jon this morning, and Arya was also making plans to shortly set off on her trip out at sea. The pack of wolves was no more, and Brienne could hardly blame Sansa for feeling melancholy because of it.

'Lady Sansa,' Brienne said softly. 'Are you all right?'

Sansa looked up at her and forced a smile. 'I will be,' she replied, gesturing for Brienne to sit down with her at the long table. 'I'll see him again, I know I will. And he'll be free in the North. 'The real north', he calls it. It's where he's always belonged.'

'The North is where you belong as well. I assume we'll be making preparations to depart for Winterfell soon?' Brienne asked, though she wasn't sure whether the thought filled her with hope or dread.

Sansa looked down, a lump rising in her throat. 'Yes. Only…you won't be coming with me, Ser Brienne,' she said reluctantly, and Brienne's lips parted in shock. 'I release you from your oath. As a friend, I would like to ask you to stay here in King's Landing, but only if you want it. I know being back here in this city must be…difficult for you.'

Brienne could hardly process her words. She was horrified, but more than that, she felt deeply hurt. She had never expected that Lady Sansa would dismiss her. And she had lost so much already…

She cleared her throat. 'I've disappointed you with what happened with Ser Jaime, my lady, I know,' Brienne murmured in a trembling voice. 'I understand that you no longer need my service, however I-'

But Sansa interrupted her with an earnest gaze in her eyes and placed her hand over Brienne's. 'It's not that at all, Brienne, and you haven't disappointed me in any way, let us be clear on that. I dearly want you to come back with me to Winterfell, but…there is someone whose need of your service is greater than my own at the moment,' she said. 'I believe the North will be all right. I've been in charge for some time, I know how it works and I know what to do. But the remaining six kingdoms are another matter entirely. And our King needs someone brave, someone he can trust, someone honourable…to take charge of his Kingsguard.'

Brienne frowned at her, confused. 'But I…I can't even be part of the Kingsguard, let alone command it…I'm a woman, my lady,' she pointed out.

But Sansa was smiling. 'Those rules stopped applying the moment Ser Jaime made the very wise decision to make you a knight. And I have it on authority from Lord Tyrion that Ser Jaime personally recommended you for this post – as I would have done, had he not beaten me to it – should the opportunity were ever to arise. He said no other person in Westeros could do a better job. And he was right,' she said fondly.

Brienne's chin quivered slightly as she tried to remain calm. She didn't want to cry, not now. She had released enough tears for him over the past few days, as poor Pod knew well…and in that case, probably so did Sansa.

Brienne sighed heavily. 'I don't want to become lord commander just because some man put in a word for me.'

She said the words scathingly, and her tone surprised Sansa. But then Sansa's face fell in sympathy; she understood. She had experienced grief more times than she could count, and she knew the stages well, and how different it was every time for each person. The anger was never an easy stage to be at. Sansa only wished she could remain here to see Brienne through it.

'Some man?' Sansa said sceptically, raising her eyebrows at her. 'That man loved you, Brienne. It was a tragedy, what his…tormented mind led him to do. But he loved you all the same. Besides, it wasn't just his word. You have been elected as the top choice for the position by all the lords and ladies in the council. The people choose you, Brienne. Not because Ser Jaime's influence made them, because you earned it. Because they know you to be the best warrior to protect the Six Kingdoms.'

'And what about the seventh kingdom, my lady? What about your kingdom?' Brienne asked urgently, torn about how to feel.

'The North will have me to look after it, along with some of the finest men in your force – those you'd be willing to give to me, that is. You'd need to build your own force here, of course. The Kingsguard and City Watch will be yours,' Sansa said, smiling at the thought, and Brienne felt a strange tingling sensation at her words. 'Imagine that…all those men following your orders…and the women you could give the opportunity to join it, to be like you.'

'But…how could I ever leave you?' Brienne said in a small voice.

Sansa was the symbol that had pulled Brienne and Jaime together. A joint mission for them both. What had it all been for, if she were to simply abandon all they had worked towards together and leave Sansa? What would Lady Catelyn have said?

Sansa sighed sadly. 'Bran needs loyal allies, Brienne. He needs protection,' she said gently. 'You know I'll be safe in Winterfell; I've given the North its independence back, no one will want to harm me there. You fulfilled your oath to my mother, and continue to do so by doing me this favour and protecting my brother. You'd be doing as she would have wanted.'

She was right of course. Brienne's purpose to both Sansa and Arya had been fulfilled. Neither of them were in danger from the world anymore. Only Catelyn's other child Bran remained vulnerable and in need of protection.

Brienne nodded slowly, deep in thought. 'You say you have released me from my oath, my lady, but…I don't wish that to be so. I will continue to serve all the children of Lady Catelyn's as best I can, according to their wishes. And if it is Bran Stark who needs me the most at present, then it is here I shall stay,' she said firmly, but then she frowned. 'If you're sure it would be wise…I doubt people will accept me being given such a position.'

'They will accept it when they know you and learn of your bravery, skill and honour,' Sansa said, smiling, and to Brienne's astonishment, she saw that Sansa's eyes were filled with tears. 'I'll miss you, Brienne. You were the first friend I made after my time with Ramsey, you helped me recover, you helped make me strong, you protected me and were there for me when times were at their darkest. I'll never be able to repay you for that. Please just know that I'm truly grateful for your friendship and loyalty.'

Brienne smiled, her eyes also suddenly rather wet. 'And I yours. I'll miss you as well, my lady. But I'll take on this new duty and swear myself to King Bran gladly. For Westeros. For your mother. And for you,' she said, and her voice shook slightly as she remembered speaking those last three words in a circumstance somewhat similar to this, in a room that would now become hers.

Sansa nodded triumphantly and rose to her feet. 'Then it is settled. I'll inform Bran that he has a new Lady Commander of the Kingsguard.'

Her voice rang out across the room proudly, and it was all Brienne could do not to let out a giddy gasp at the future that had just been determined for her. It may not have been the future she had hoped for, the one with Jaime at her side always and forever, but it was certainly one that the young girl who had dreamed longingly of becoming a knight would never have expected to become reality in her later life. Brienne watched in a daze as Sansa left the room, still too stunned to register what had just transpired.

Jaime had broken her heart, there was no point in denying that. His leaving, his death…it had been a betrayal that had resulted in such distress and anger and pain that Brienne had never known the likes of before. But her love for him remained, even now. His dreams of being a great knight had been soured from the moment he'd pledged his service to the Mad King, but now Brienne had the chance to continue the work that he had wanted to do when she'd returned him to this city years ago. She could redeem and lead the Kingsguard and return the capital to its former glory. She could earn the respect of the realm. Her honourable work as the first female knight in all of Westeros would be an inspiration to all the young girls out there who felt like an outsider, who felt like they didn't belong.

Yes, she was still in mourning. Yes, she was still in the depths of despair and heartbreak. But she must carry on. She couldn't look too far ahead, not when she knew that nothing would ever be the same again, but she needed to be able to take the next step in this new role for Lady Sansa, and for Pod.

I'm so proud of you.

Brienne blinked rapidly as Jaime's kind voice rang through her head with the words she knew he would say if he were here. Perhaps in some ways he still was.

She smiled to herself; the first time she had done so in two months. I'm to be the Lady Commander of the Kingsguard, Jaime. Who'd have thought it?

Brienne then got up to her feet and left the room to tell Pod the first piece of good news she'd had since the day Jaime had left Winterfell, unable to stop herself from smirking as she imagined what the younger Jaime from their time on the road together would have said if he could see her now.

* * *

When Brienne woke up, it took her a few moments to remember where she was. The shabby room was unfamiliar to her, as was the feel of the soft mattress beneath her. When was the last time she had slept on a proper bed, besides the one at Harrenhal? She wasn't sure.

They had managed to find shelter, for once, at a tavern they had been passing on the kingsroad as the sun was setting. Steelshanks had been wary at first, but then the rest of the soldiers had grumbled about not getting proper food or enough sleep, and when Qyburn had insisted that both Jaime and Brienne needed a wash and proper rest for the sake of their wounds, Steelshanks gave in. They had given false names and luckily no one inside the inn had recognised the Kingslayer – not that they'd have had much chance against Bolton's men if they had – so the exhausted, grumpy group of travellers had been given plenty of ale and good food, and even some rooms to sleep in. Brienne had retired to her room early, too weary and shy to participate in the drunken merriment, and fallen asleep the moment her head had hit the soft pillow.

Now, as Brienne slowly got out of bed and looked out of the window to see the break of dawn, she felt refreshed and well-rested for the first time in months. Her stomach rumbling with hunger, she crossed over to the chest of drawers where she'd folded up her new tunic and breeches. Jaime had forced Steelshanks to buy Brienne some appropriate clothes while on the road a few days ago, fed up with seeing her discomfort at wearing the ragged pink gown, and she was grateful, but couldn't help wishing for her original suit of armour that she missed so dearly. Wearing this nondescript brown garb, she no longer looked like a knight. She looked like a regular civilian. Just a tall ugly woman with nothing special or remotely extraordinary about her.

Once she had washed and dressed, Brienne then opened the door to head downstairs for some breakfast…only to gasp in shock at the lump of rags lying at the foot of her doorway, out on the landing. There came a grunt of shock as the lump of rags woke up.

'Ser Jaime!'

Jaime yelped and scrambled up to his feet, stumbling slightly as he looked at her with heavy bags under his eyes. 'Gods, you really do look much worse than usual in the morning, you know,' he greeted.

He was trying to deflect – something that Brienne had noticed had become a pastime for him during this past week on the road. She stared at him, completely nonplussed, and her eyes turned to his bedroll that he'd laid out on the floor outside her door. She looked back up at him; his cheeks had reddened slightly. He looked both irritated and mortified. Clearly, he hadn't meant for her to ever see him here.

'What are you doing here?' she demanded, baffled.

'I…I was sleeping!' Jaime said defensively.

'Why? You had a room!' Brienne snapped, frowning, and she lowered her voice. 'You've got a price on your head, you can't just lie about anywhere in an inn where anyone can find you!'

Jaime groaned. 'The men were getting drunk downstairs,' he said indignantly. 'I didn't want them…'

He trailed off awkwardly as Brienne's lips parted and she stared at him in utter bewilderment. It was only then that Brienne realised that Jaime was almost as haunted by the attempted rape on her as she was.

He stayed here all night to make sure no one bothered me. Who is this man?

Feeling rather flustered all of a sudden, Brienne tried to look stern. 'I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself, you know,' she said coolly.

'I know. I just…wanted to make sure…You needed some rest,' Jaime said wearily. 'I thought I'd save you the aggravation of turning away lustful drunken men.'

'Y-you really didn't need to do that,' she murmured, mortified at the mere suggestion, and she looked down to try and hide her embarrassment.

Brienne was extremely certain that no drunken lustful man would ever in her life come knocking on her door.

'I know,' Jaime muttered, equally as embarrassed. 'But I wouldn't have been able to relax if-'

'Are you expecting me to believe you were relaxed on that floor all night?' Brienne said sceptically.

Jaime's lips twitched. 'Point taken.'

Brienne looked at him for a moment, then stepped to the side and gestured at him to come forward. 'Get in.'

'I'm sorry?' Jaime said, and to his horror his voice broke.

Brienne rolled her eyes. 'I have a basin, get yourself washed.'

'If you insist, my lady,' Jaime muttered.

He walked into her room, and Brienne shut the door behind him to give him some privacy – and also so he wouldn't have to see the flustered smile that fell on her lips as she looked down at the bedroll on the floor.

When the two of them eventually emerged downstairs, they found that Steelshanks and the rest of the soldiers were already there storing up on food before they resumed their journey. They all began guffawing the moment they saw Jaime and Brienne enter together.

'Ah here they are, the beauty and the beast.'

'Yeah, but which is which?'

There were more roars of laughter but Jaime and Brienne ignored them as they joined Qyburn, who alone remained silent, at a table in the far corner. While the soldiers loudly made crude jokes about what the two of them had got up to upstairs last night, Jaime and Brienne shot each other an uneasy glance.

'You brought this on yourself, you know,' Brienne snapped across the table, annoyed. 'What else did you think they'd say if you slept the night by my room?'

'I'm sorry,' Jaime said, and he meant it. 'Truly, I never meant…It's your reputation on the line, not mine. I have no reputation left to save.'

His reputation was broken beyond repair, but he could try to save Brienne's – at least, he could if these stupid men didn't insist on spreading rumours of 'the lovers'.

They set off not long after they'd finished their breakfast, though they were sad to leave the comforts of a roof over their head and a proper bed – who knew if they would get such luxury again before they reached King's Landing? They had acquired a new horse for Brienne a few days ago, thankfully, so she and Jaime rode apart from each other for a while to avoid giving Bolton's men more reason to laugh. By the afternoon, however, Jaime was bored and fed up of having nothing left to think of apart from what Cersei would say when she caught sight of the disgusting stump on the end of his right arm, so trotted over to Brienne for some much-needed bickering.

Since their initial departure from Harrenhal, Jaime had unconsciously developed a talent for always finding some way, no matter how obscure, to automatically end up insulting Brienne in every conversation they had while they travelled along the kingsroad, be it one of their usual arguments or even a rare deep talk about their personal lives when the moon rose high and the campfire was crackling between them. It was his coping mechanism. It was the only way he knew how to deal with Brienne and this messy newfound affection he had in him for her. Since the events of the bear pit, perhaps even since their dinner with Roose Bolton after their intimate moment alone together in Qyburn's quarters, Jaime had been acting as her nurse and carer – and on times even her loving, concerned husband – and he couldn't have that. He had to make sure that she, and everyone else around them, knew where he stood. But it was growing increasingly hard to act indifferent around her. Because he did care. He cared very much, far more than he ought to and far more than he allowed himself to admit.

It was during the evenings when Jaime grew less bothered about keeping up his heartless pretence, however, and the arguments and insults would quite often cease. That night, hours after they had made camp and eaten, Jaime moved to sit against a nearby tree trunk and covered himself with his bedroll; Brienne walked over to sit beside him and frowned.

'Don't you want to lie down?' she asked, while the other soldiers slept on the grassy ground around them.

'I'll feel better if I stay like this,' Jaime muttered.

He winced slightly as he adjusted his position against the tree trunk; he'd marked his chest badly when trying to get out of the bear pit, having slammed himself against the walls and cut himself slightly. He'd hoped it would have stopped hurting by now. He eyed Brienne warily; she was watching him in concern.

'It's just a scratch, it's nothing,' he said dismissively.

'It's just a scratch for now, but we're out in the open again and it could easily get infected. Qyburn would tell you as much if he were awake,' Brienne said sternly. 'Besides, it's been over a week and it's still not any better.'

Jaime rolled his eyes irritably. 'Fine, I…I'll get some dressing for it-'

'No, let me.'

He watched in surprise as Brienne walked over to fetch Qyburn's medical kit; she soon returned with a bandage, cloth and some more dressing. Jaime undid the top buttons of his tunic for her so she could clean the wound. They both knew that Qyburn should really be doing this, but he was glad it was Brienne. Besides, they'd become accustomed to such intimacy when she'd been caring for his stump in the woods back with Locke and his men.

Brienne could feel his eyes on her face while she worked, and she tried hard not to blush as she focussed her gaze on the wound he had gained at the bear pit. 'You're a bloody idiot, you know,' she muttered, though she spoke in an exasperatedly fond tone of voice.

'I know. And you're welcome,' Jaime said, and Brienne's eyes smiled.

Her fingers lingered slightly on his sprinkling of chest hair as she finished covering up the scratch with the new dressing. She wondered why she could feel Jaime's heartbeat racing on at such a strangely fast pace beneath her hand. They both paused and looked at each other, their lips parted as the confusion, and nerves overwhelmed them into speechlessness. Brienne then quickly leaned away from him, flustered, and he did the top buttons of his tunic back up without a single snide remark.

'Err…I could do with something to eat,' Jaime said distractedly, trying to keep his voice down as the soldiers slept and snored around them. 'I'll see if we've got anything left over – do you want anything?'

'No, but thank you,' Brienne said as she leaned back against the tree trunk, trying to maintain a calm composure as her heart raced.

Jaime nodded nervously and got up to his feet to try and hunt for more food in the satchel of leftover goods the innkeeper had given them all this morning before they had left the inn. Brienne's face kept swimming into view as he found some more bread and cheese…the feel of her fingers hesitating at the top of his chest…

What was that? What just happened?

Shaking his head to himself, he then headed back with the food, tiptoeing around the sleeping soldiers, only to find that Brienne's eyes were closed and her head was lolling against the tree trunk; she'd fallen asleep. Jaime sat down beside her with his bread and cheese and looked at her for a moment, at the way her greasy messy hair hung over her eyes, at the unflattering way her mouth was hanging open, and he smiled. Slowly, Jaime reached over and gently pushed her hair out of her face; Brienne gave a small sigh of contentment in her sleep but luckily didn't wake.

He found it so strange that after everything the two of them were here together, wounded and without armour, huddled beside each other in the dark and cold, in the protection of a large group of Northern soldiers escorting them back to the home he was no longer even that desperate to get back to. It was funny how drastically things could change in just a few months. He'd thought all of them had been bad changes – the loss of his sword hand in particular being a rather prominent one – but now, as he looked at Brienne's sleeping face, he realised he had been mistaken.

It didn't take Jaime and Brienne long once they'd woken up the next morning to resume their normal pattern of bickering.

'I was not snoring,' Brienne was saying angrily as they packed away their bedrolls and prepared to depart the woodland clearing.

'You were, you were relentless,' Jaime insisted, half-amused, half-infuriated. 'It's not very ladylike to snore, you know.'

Brienne scoffed. 'Well have you ever thought of me as a lady?'

Jaime looked at her. He got a fleeting image in his mind of her naked body stood before him in the bathtub, of the way that ridiculous pink dress had clung to her curvaceous figure, of her tender nurturing of his stump and wounds while they had been Locke's captives, of the way she had washed him and comforted him while he let his tears of shame fall in Qyburn's quarters.

'Yes,' he replied.

He sounded almost as surprised to say it as she felt to hear it.

They departed not long after that and carried on riding for a few days in the comforts of the secluded woods rather than out on the open kingsroad, though the two of them never spoke of (or dared to even think of) the intimate moment that had passed between them while she had dressed the wound on his chest. Not even Steelshanks and his men could deny that both Jaime and Brienne were weakened, tired and frail from their wounds – be it either the result of hand-maiming or angry slashes from a bear claw – so as they went on, Qyburn insisted on regular stops for the two of them to rest and be treated, and luckily Bolton's men didn't object.

Despite their exhaustion and limitations, as their journey to the capital continued, both Jaime and Brienne found strength and encouragement from one another and their freedom at last to talk as if to, not just an ally, but a friend. It was a relief that there was no more fighting, no more tension or hostile glances or cruel snide remarks (or at least, not ones to be taken seriously). There was only respect and affectionate bickering now, and perhaps something more that neither of them were prepared to acknowledge to themselves. They helped each other in times of need when the strain, exhaustion or pain was too much – Brienne would saddle his horse and help him onto it, and she would cut up his food for him at night, while Jaime would give her more blankets whenever they made camp at night and ensure that the angry gash at the bottom of her neck was well-cleaned and dressed.

For many days the weather turned foul, and they would shield each other from the rain and try to find shelter under trees and in the burnt remains of war-torn crumbling buildings. One evening, however, the clouds dissipated and in the quiet peace of the cool night they all made camp close to a river, glad to be out in the open for once.

Once they had all eaten, Brienne left the campfire to wash herself at the river; it only took a few minutes after she'd left their group for Jaime to feel bored and lost without her presence. He went to find her not long afterwards, having little in common with Bolton's men and little respect for any of them. She had gone about ten minutes' downstream, out of sight and out of mind, and had redressed, though had left the top buttons of her tunic undone and was currently trying to redress the scarring at the top of her chest. A full moon was out, and there was only the sound of the trickle of water as Jaime walked over to her. Even the men telling tales by the fire couldn't be heard. It had never been more peaceful.

'Let me,' Jaime said quietly.

Brienne jumped slightly as she turned around to face him, pausing with the wet cloth in her hands. 'I wish you wouldn't sneak up on me like that,' she snapped, trying to conceal her surprise at seeing him here.

'Sorry,' Jaime murmured, fighting back a smile.

He walked over to her and held his hand out for the cloth with his eyebrows raised; they both knew it would be much easier for someone else to tend to her wound rather than her attempt to do it herself. Brienne sighed and reluctantly handed over the cloth and he stepped forward and began to dab at the ugly claw marks that the bear had left at the bottom of her neck, trying to breathe normally so she wouldn't be able to sense his nerves. It was strange…he had never once cared for the welfare of anyone who wasn't a Lannister. He didn't understand what had happened to him since meeting this woman.

While Jaime continued to wash the gash on her neck, his hand lingered slightly on the top of the soft skin of her chest, just as hers had done on his that night in the woods last week, and he looked at her. Her blue eyes looked like huge magnificent orbs reflecting the moonlight. They were beautiful.

'You know what they say of us?' Jaime murmured, averting his gaze as he redressed her wound.

'Yes,' Brienne said, though her voice came out in a whisper as she wondered where he was going with this; they both knew they'd been referred to as 'the lovers' for many weeks now, ever since Locke had taken them captive.

Jaime swallowed. 'Do you think recently we've…perhaps given them more reason to say such things?' he asked, still avoiding her eye contact.

There was a slight pause. Brienne's heart was beating as fast as it had back in that bear pit.

'Perhaps,' she replied, her voice slightly higher than usual. 'I wouldn't know, not really.'

He'd finished then, though he didn't step back as he withdrew his hands from the re-dressed wound on her neck. He brought his eyes back up to look into hers, and for a moment he forgot everything…the men drinking by the camp nearby, Cersei and King's Landing waiting for his return, his horrible stump…everything but Brienne.

'I should never have left you there. At Harrenhal,' Jaime said, a lump in his throat; seeing that gash on her neck was a constant reminder to him of that day in the bear pit, and it filled him with guilt. 'I'm sorry.'

Brienne shook her head. 'Don't be. You had no obligation to me, and…Roose Bolton didn't give you much of a choice. Not that you listened,' she said, almost disapprovingly. 'You came back for me.'

'I hope you know that I always will, from now on.'

He said the words beseechingly, his gaze earnest and sincere, and Brienne almost felt like bursting out laughing. She didn't understand. Was he drunk? Was he mad? Such a statement felt almost romantic, and if anyone else had heard him say such a thing…well, Brienne could scarcely think of those consequences. The rumours were bad enough.

'Ser Jaime, are you quite well?' she said, flustered.

Jaime chuckled. 'Quite well, thank you. Have I embarrassed you?' he asked, tilting his head at her.

Brienne frowned. 'Not…embarrassed as such, no. I'm just a little confused.'

'That makes two of us,' Jaime said, and he tore his eyes away from her and back towards the direction of the campfire, filled with both discomfort and intrigue. 'We should head back, they'll be…wondering what we've got up to.'

Brienne raised her eyebrows and before she'd even had time to think, she said, 'You made that sound rather indecent.'

The corner of Jaime's lips curled up into a sly smile as he frowned back at her, bemused by her statement. 'I did, didn't I?' he murmured.

They looked at each other in silence, both of them terrified of one another's longing gaze and disgusted with each other for letting them entertain such feelings of…what were they feeling? Neither of them knew. Neither of them understood. It made no sense, none of it did. Exhaling shakily, Brienne then hurried past Jaime without another word, glad that the darkness of the night concealed the way she blushed. Jaime turned and watched as she headed back towards camp, frowning.

I've been away from Cersei for too long. Yes, that must be it. There's no other explanation.

Neither of them spoke to each other for the rest of that night, other than to bid each other goodnight when the time came for their assembled group to sleep in preparation for tomorrow's early start. As they always did, the two of them slept beside each other against one of the few trees surrounding them by the river, though rather than lying on the ground, they'd set up their bedrolls against the trunk.

When Jaime's eyes fluttered open the next morning, he was surprised to see that he'd been leaning his head on Brienne's, and even more surprised to see that her head was resting on his shoulder as she continued to sleep. Though slightly taller than him, she'd slumped down against the trunk so that she was positioned lower; he wondered if she'd consciously decided to use his shoulder as a pillow, or if it had accidentally happened in the middle of the night. Though quite mortified, Jaime found himself also quite touched, and he smiled as he slowly leaned off her.

Some of the soldiers were beginning to wake and get up around him; Jaime felt he ought to help them prepare for the journey, but couldn't bring himself to move away from the tree trunk with Brienne sleeping so peacefully against him. When Brienne eventually woke up and realised that she was leaning on him, she immediately leapt up at once in horror, flustered.

'Sleep well?' Jaime greeted teasingly as he got up to his feet as well.

Brienne's face had never been redder. 'Why didn't you wake me? You shouldn't have let me…forgive me, Ser Jaime, I never meant-'

But Jaime cut over her with a roll of his eyes. 'Relax. It's fine. I'm glad I could be of service,' he said, and with a wink he then walked over to get himself a drink of water.

A few of Bolton's soldiers were sniggering over at them from afar. Qyburn remained unamused; only he saw this new bizarre friendship as something pure and wholesome rather than something to be mocked and laughed at. Steelshanks also seemed to struggle with seeing the funny side of things, as he expressed to Jaime not long before they set off.

'You keep sleeping next to each other,' Steelshanks said disapprovingly.

Jaime raised his eyebrows. 'Gods be good, I hope my fellow brothers in the Kingsguard spare my life once they hear of this monstrosity.'

'I don't appreciate your tone of mockery, Ser Jaime,' Steelshanks said through gritted teeth.

'Well I don't appreciate your insinuation,' Jaime said in a warning voice, glaring down at him. 'You and your men will speak no more about it, is that clear?'

Steelshanks sighed heavily. 'Very clear, Ser Jaime.'

From then on, if Bolton's men continued to laugh at Jaime and Brienne, they kept very quiet about it. Even though they knew the gossip and teasing still occurred, it was a relief for Jaime and Brienne to pretend otherwise, so they could continue to bond with each other over the rest of their journey back to King's Landing. As their strength picked up, with help from Qyburn's treatments, they would take advantage of their rare bursts of energy during the day and race each other along the fields and through the woods on their horses, and when their aches and pains and exhaustion came back to them at night, they would speak uncharacteristically soothing words of comfort and encouragement to each other and help tend to one another's wounds. They never spoke of their moment by the river, though they came close.

'You're like a different person, you know, to who you were when we first met,' Brienne said one evening, as they sat together on a stone bench outside an old unoccupied brothel.

They were just a couple of days out from arriving at King's Landing now, and had come across an empty village that Steelshanks had deemed good enough to stop at for the night.

'It's only been a few months, but…it's like you have two different sides to you,' Brienne went on, frowning at him. 'It's very…odd.'

Jaime raised his eyebrows at her. 'Speak for yourself!' he pointed out, and she tilted her head at him irritably. 'It's more confusing to me than it is to you, believe me. But…I am who I am. And I think – I hope – I've paid the prices for the choices I've made in my life.'

'Sometimes you didn't have a choice,' Brienne said in a small voice, and Jaime smiled sadly.

'I appreciate that. But still. I think if I could, I'd give my other hand to rewrite my past. But I can't,' he murmured in a slightly shaky voice, and to Brienne's astonishment she saw that there were tears in his eyes as he turned to face her. 'Not even for you, Lady Brienne. I just can't.'

Her chin quivered slightly as she gazed at him. 'You don't need to,' she whispered.

Jaime gave her a sad smile before straightening up and exhaling deeply, blinking away his tears before they had chance to fall. 'So, if you say I'm like a different person…does that mean I can be reassured that you're warming towards me slightly, Lady Brienne?' he asked, in an almost playful tone.

Brienne swallowed slightly as she looked at him. ''Slightly' might be overstretching it. But…yes,' she said begrudgingly. 'I can learn to like you, if that is what you'd wish.'

'And I you,' Jaime said, and he smiled at her.

In one way they were still practically strangers to each other, and yet in another way they were one person, bonded irrevocably together and willing to follow one another to the great unknown, as long as they stuck by each other's side. And Jaime knew inexplicably that, as long as Brienne was here, everything would be all right. He just wished he knew why he was suddenly wishing that they weren't taking him back to King's Landing after all.

Stay with me, Jaime wanted to say to Brienne. If she stayed in the capital with him, perhaps he could face whatever the future would bring. But she would never want that. After all, who would ever want to stay with Jaime Lannister?

* * *

~ Present Day ~

The day Sansa left for Winterfell was a gloomy one indeed.

Brienne had never seen Pod cry before, not even during the battle at Winterfell, but as he embraced a tearful Sansa and kissed her for the last time before she set sail from the harbour, he began to sob quietly to himself. This time, it was Brienne's turn to comfort him. It was a peculiar sensation.

'Do you think we'll see her again?' Pod asked in a quiet voice, a few hours after they had watched Sansa's ship sail away back to the North.

'Of course we will. But Pod…you do have a choice, you know,' Brienne said, frowning at him in concern. 'If you'd prefer to be part of her Queensguard and return to Winterfell, I'd understand, and King Bran wouldn't object in the slightest-'

'No. I'm not leaving you, milady, and I'd never want to,' Pod interrupted her firmly, his tone and expression sincere. 'We stick together. Always.'

Brienne considered him for a moment, deeply touched, then gave him a stiff nod before wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

The new small council session was due to be held in a few days' time, Tyrion had tentatively announced earlier…a few days of freedom until they began the impossible talk of rebuilding this once-wondrous city and reconciling the six kingdoms. A few days for Brienne to grow used to the new role Bran had granted her the day before Sansa had left.

Her new armour was magnificent and gold, and had a raven sigil imprinted on it, for Bran. It was strange, to think that the armour Jaime had long ago bestowed upon her would now never need to be worn again. She had a new uniform now, a new identity, a new purpose. And yet Brienne knew that she would never be able to bring herself to discard of her most beloved suit of armour. She would have to store it somewhere, perhaps even leave it standing in her new bedchambers – or indeed, Jaime's old ones – so that she could look upon it and remember from time to time.

'So, what will your first act as Lady Commander be, milady?' Pod asked the next morning, as Brienne tried on her new armour for the first time.

The two of them had spent their free time inspecting the Red Keep and making notes of where the damage was worst and what should be their priority. Pod had assumed they'd been taking a random route this morning during their examination of the broken remains of the castle, but from the slight smile in Brienne's eyes as she looked at him now, he suddenly became doubtful as to whether that was indeed the case.

'There's only one thing it can be,' she said. 'Come with me.'

Curious, Pod followed her down the corridor as she pushed open the grand front doors to the great hall. The refurbishment had already begun in this once-splendid room, but there was a great gaping hole where the Iron Throne had once stood, and the walls and ceiling surrounding it were barely standing. It was a wonder the place was still intact. It took a while for Pod to fully adjust to the sight of what the Dragon Queen had done, but then finally he regained his focus and saw Tyrion and Bronn stood with smug, almost proud smiles on their faces, watching him expectantly as if they had been waiting for him. Pod frowned at them, bemused, but then noticed that Brienne had come to a halt in the centre of the hall and withdrawn her sword.

She inclined her head at him as she pointed her sword towards the stone floor. 'Kneel, Podrick,' she said, her voice echoing around the remains of the hall.

Pod's lips parted in shock as he realised what was happening. 'B-but…milady-'

'Please,' Brienne interrupted, and her tone was unusually gentle. 'Kneel.'

Swallowing and trying desperately not to let the tears form, Pod walked over to Brienne and knelt down on one knee, glancing over at Tyrion and Bronn, his closest companions from his time living in this city. They both gave him a reassuring grin as Brienne rested Oathkeeper upon his shoulder.

Brienne took a deep breath. 'In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave,' she rang out, her voice wavering ever so slightly. 'In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent.'

A tear trickled down her cheek as she finished, though whether it was pride for Pod or sadness for Jaime, she couldn't tell. Perhaps it was a mixture of both. She had been ready for this moment for quite some time, and she hadn't needed to learn the words. They had been engrained in her memory from the moment Jaime had spoken them to her that night in front of the fire at Winterfell.

'Arise, Podrick Payne,' Brienne said, and the smile on her face was true and genuine as she declared him, 'a knight of the Seven Kingdoms.'

Pod leapt to his feet, hardly daring to believe that it could really be true, that Brienne could really have done this for him and had such faith in him. He smiled breathlessly up at his mentor; she had never looked prouder, and it made him feel like crying all over again. Pod couldn't wait to write to Sansa and tell her about this. He couldn't wait to wake up tomorrow morning and realise it wasn't a dream. He knew how painful it must have been for Brienne to relive such a vivid memory of Jaime. He knew how much such a moment and vows such as these meant to her. And he could never have hoped for anyone more worthy and honourable to grant him his lifelong wish.

Stretching up on his tiptoes, Pod reached up to hug her. Brienne hugged him back as Tyrion and Bronn cheered and clapped for their friend. Over Pod's shoulder, Brienne glanced at Tyrion and saw that tears were falling down his cheeks into his beard. She couldn't tell if he were simply emotional at seeing how far his young squire had come in this world or if he was simply lost in the precious memory of Jaime doing the same thing for Brienne. The sight of his tears made Brienne's chin begin to quiver, but she managed to hold it together as she tried to focus only on the good of what that memory brought her now. What a wonderful night it had been. One of the best moments of her entire life. And nothing could take that away from her. Doing what Jaime had done for her to Pod now, knowing how much it meant to Pod as well, only made it more special.

That evening, once Pod had finally stopped thanking Brienne, Tyrion and Bronn took the new knight out for drinks at the one remaining inn in the city to celebrate his accomplishment. They invited Brienne along, but she politely declined, having put on enough of a brave face for today. She needed time to herself now, to brood and mourn and rest from the mental exertions of socialising and working, and she knew Pod understood. Perhaps one day she would feel ready to get back out into the real world and enjoy herself a bit more with food and drink and laughter, as she had done in Winterfell. But today was not that day.

It was her first night in her new bedchambers, and Brienne knew that nothing could prepare her for the overwhelming flood of emotions that would hit her the moment she walked through those doors. She didn't know what she would feel exactly, or how she would react, but she knew she had to get it over with. Dragging it out would only make it more painful.

A great deal of the castle was heavily damaged, but by some miracle the Tower of the Lord Commander remained intact. There was a generous amount of apartments within, including the room containing the Book of Brothers…the book now in her sole charge, hers to write whatever she liked in, to carry on the stories of those they had lost and those who had prevailed. She went on up the winding stairwell, just as she had done years ago that day she'd paid a visit, and stepped through into Jaime's old bedchambers.

The Red Keep was filled with reminders of Jaime all over, but none quite so vivid as in this room.

Brienne stepped forward tentatively into her new quarters, the place she would now call home, and looked around with a hollow ache in her chest. The clothes and armour that Jaime had abandoned before leaving for Winterfell were still there. His old white Kingsguard cloak lay discarded on a chair in the corner of the room. Brienne ran her hand along the soft fabric before putting it aside, blinking away tears. Hung up against the ornate wardrobe was one of Jaime's brown leather jerkins, similar to the one he had worn during their time together at Winterfell. It had been his most attractive look, in Brienne's opinion.

Her eyes fell to the divan at the foot of the bed, and Brienne instantly got a fleeting image of her younger self sat there beside Jaime, her hand resting over his stump, his hand over hers, as she'd comforted him after Joffrey's death.

'We know each other too well. You can read me like an open book.'

'I wouldn't say that, Ser Jaime. You're the most complicated man I've ever met.'

'Have you met many complicated men, Lady Brienne?'

She remembered how short and smart his haircut had been, how refined his clothes were, how smooth his cheeks had looked without the beard, the sharpness of his jawline. Back then he had been the golden-lion Jaime, before her bearded shaggy Jaime had returned to her years later when he'd turned up in the courtyard at Winterfell. Two very different masks, and yet the same good man underneath it all. If only he had seen it.

A lump rose in Brienne's throat as her eyes then turned to the bed, magnificent and big enough for four people, let alone two. She thought of their last night together in Winterfell…the way he had held her and kissed her…the way he had whispered, 'Goodnight, my love' while she lay beside him with her eyes closed. She'd pretended to be asleep at the time, not wanting to scare him by addressing the fact that he had never called her 'my love' before. She'd been planning on teasing him about it a few days later, once she'd had time to recover from her delirious happiness over hearing him say such a thing…a delirious happiness that she could barely remember now. She wondered if she would ever feel anything close to such a thing again.

For a moment, as she walked around Brienne thought that she could recognise Jaime's scent in this room, surrounded with his various garments and belongings, but of course she knew she was just imagining it; it had been a very long time since Jaime had occupied these chambers. She would never smell his scent again, nor see him in these splendid clothes, nor hear his smooth voice, nor feel his strong arms or his tender lips on hers, nor meet his loving gaze. He was nothing but a ghost in this room, a memory. He was gone.

Feeling strangely empty, Brienne then caught side of a book that had been left on the table in the corner of the room. She frowned curiously and flickered through it, only to be surprised by the many untidy scrawls and drawings that filled the pages. Her breath caught in her throat as her hand turned over the page to reveal a drawing of a suit of armour, and she froze as she recognised Jaime's hand. The words 'blue, for sapphire isle' had been scribbled beside the drawing of the armour, along with a design of the belt and scabbard to go with a sword. Not just any sword, she knew. Oathkeeper. There had been endless attempts at lion heads and sunbursts; he had scribbled away on the pages relentlessly until he had perfected his design of the Tarth sigil. Her trembling lips smiled, and for one blissful moment Brienne felt the feeling of emptiness within disappear.

That night she lay down with her head on the luxuriously soft pillow thinking of a simpler time, imagining Jaime as he'd stayed up late into the hours of the night to draw and design the armour that he would gift her with, fresh from their time together travelling on the road by the romantic privacy of the river and the secluded warmth of the cosy campfire…

Out of habit, Brienne murmured, 'Goodnight, Jaime.'

Goodnight, my love, she heard his voice whisper back, and a tear trickled down her cheek onto the pillow where Jaime had once slept.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Brienne woke and to her surprise didn't feel instantly confused by the feel and sight of the large bedposts and ornate furniture. There was a strange sense of familiarity about this room, as if it had always been hers, as if she had always been meant to be here. She rose from the comfortable bed and put on her bedrobe before walking out onto the balcony and surveying the sight of the city down below. The capital had been turned into a graveyard of ash and rubble and chaos, but thankfully the work had already started on the rebuilding. She could already see people out and about, ready to turn a new page in their lives. It gave Brienne hope that perhaps one day there would be colour and light in King's Landing once again.

There was then a knock at the door, startling her. Who would be wanting to speak to her so early in the morning?

'Who is it?' Brienne asked, coming back in from the balcony.

'It's Tyrion, my lady,' the visitor called back to her from behind the closed door.

Brienne paused. She hadn't spoken with Tyrion alone since the day of the trial. She wasn't sure if she was quite ready to face him or the things he no doubt had to say just yet.

Hesitantly, she said, 'Come in.'

Tyrion pushed open the door and entered. It was hard not to notice the fact that he was carrying a sword much too big for him, and not just any sword – even from this distance she could tell it was Valyrian steel. Widow's Wail. Brienne looked away from it; she'd brought that sword to King's Landing so that it could be with Jaime in his final resting place, wherever that may be. She didn't want to see it here.

Tyrion paused the moment he saw her. 'Forgive me, you're not dressed yet, I can come back-'

'It's quite all right, I'm decent,' Brienne said impatiently as she folded her arms against her bedrobe; she didn't care about such matters anymore.

Tyrion nodded and walked towards her, looking around her new bedchambers wistfully. 'I haven't been in here for years,' he said. 'I almost forgot how he lived in such luxury compared to myself.'

'And yet you lived in luxury ten thousand times more than most normal folk,' Brienne dryly, wishing he would just get to the point. 'How may I help you, Lord Tyrion?'

'I wanted to see how you'd settled in,' Tyrion said politely, coming to a halt as he looked up at her and resting the sword on the floor.

'Fine, thank you.'

'Considering half the castle has collapsed, and given everything that's happened, I suppose you-'

'I said I'm fine, Tyrion,' Brienne interrupted him curtly.

Tyrion swallowed and nodded. She didn't want to talk to Tyrion about this, about any of it. She only felt comfortable talking to Pod.

'How is Pod?' Brienne asked, if only to break the tense silence. 'I hope you didn't get him too drunk last night.'

'Fear not, he's already up and about the castle,' Tyrion reassured her, and he smiled. 'I can't tell you how delighted he was about what you did for him yesterday.'

'He's deserved a knighthood for a long time,' Brienne said fondly.

'As did you. One of the only good things my brother did,' Tyrion murmured, and Brienne's face fell.

'Oh he did many good things in his life,' she said, her voice shaking ever so slightly. 'He just never talked about them. Only the bad.'

Tyrion nodded heavily and gazed up at her, considering her deeply, his brow furrowed. 'No one's more pleased than myself at your new appointment, my lady, but I…I am concerned for your wellbeing,' he said tentatively. 'Don't you think it will be painful, staying here at the Red Keep? You spent a lot of time with him here, after Lady Catelyn's death.'

Brienne stared at him incredulously. 'Of course it will be painful. But those memories are all I have. It feels right to be here.'

There was a pause as the two of them looked at each other.

A lump rose in Tyrion's throat and he stepped forward. 'Ser Brienne, I owe you an apology.'

'What for?' Brienne asked warily.

'I…wasn't going to tell you this, but…I can't not, not when it's been eating away at me,' Tyrion said, and Brienne frowned. 'I fear I may have…influenced Jaime a little, in his decision to return to the capital. It wasn't intentional, please believe that. I was just…I challenged him on what his plans were, the night before I left Winterfell with Daenerys.'

'The night you two went to the inn,' Brienne murmured thoughtfully, lost in memory. 'I thought he was in an odd mood when he came back home. Well, not home. My chambers.'

'And that was his home – his new home, his happy home. He wanted it to be…it should have been,' Tyrion said, looking dismayed. 'But I planted the seed in his mind. Bronn had come that night on orders of Cersei, and…well, it made me worried that Jaime wouldn't be able to put her out of his mind. And I think I…made him doubt. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything to him…if I hadn't then maybe he-'

'You sound like Lady Sansa. She too was kind enough to try and defend him. But you shouldn't blame yourself and make excuses for his choices,' Brienne said, the look in her eyes cold. 'We both know he would have come back here anyway, regardless of whether either of you had said anything.'

Tyrion looked doubtful. 'Perhaps…but perhaps not. I suppose we'll never know,' he murmured.

'I suppose not,' Brienne said shortly. 'Why are you really here?'

Tyrion cleared his throat as he turned his attention to Widow's Wail in his hands. 'I, err…I have your sword,' he replied, 'it was left in the Tower of the Hand, I just wanted to return it to you.'

'That's not my sword, that's Jaime's – it…it was Jaime's,' Brienne corrected him, her voice breaking on the last word.

'Yes,' Tyrion agreed gently. 'But he left it for you.'

'He must have forgotten it when he left that night,' Brienne said dismissively.

'He'd taken a different sword from the armoury at Winterfell, did he not? So…swapping that so that he could leave Widow's Wail with you was a deliberate choice,' Tyrion pointed out, frowning at her.

Brienne merely turned away. 'If you say so.'

'Ser Brienne.'

Brienne paused and closed her eyes. Hearing her being called 'Ser' brought a lump to her throat every time. Hearing the word from Tyrion's lips didn't help matters. She got a sudden fleeting mental image of Jaime resting his sword on her shoulder in front of Tyrion and the others by the fire. It seemed like a dream now.

'He'd written…a will, of sorts,' Tyrion went on, making Brienne look up. 'Dated a few years back, but…it still stands officially, signed by two witnesses, he did it by the book. It was found in the maester's quarters. Or what was left of them, at least.'

'Why are you telling me this?' Brienne asked, confused; did he only mean to upset her even more?

'Because you're mentioned in it,' Tyrion replied quietly.

Brienne took a step back from him, shaking her head in disbelief. 'That's…not possible,' she whispered, as if almost afraid by what Tyrion was saying.

'I have it here,' Tyrion said, and from his jacket pocket he pulled out a folded-up piece of parchment. 'He'd…left many of his belongings to Tommen and Myrcella…and not as much to Cersei as she would have liked, I must say. And here, he says, 'To Brienne of Tarth-''

'No,' Brienne cut over him in a tremoring voice, her eyes watering all of a sudden. 'Forgive me, Lord Tyrion, but may I read it myself?'

Tyrion smiled sympathetically and handed the parchment over to her. 'Of course.'

Brienne took the parchment from him and spread it out in her hands.

To Brienne of Tarth, without whom I would not have returned safely to King's Landing, I leave my sword, Widow's Wail, in the hope that she will reunite it with its twin, named Oathkeeper, and use them both in her honourable duty to be brave, just and defend the innocent.

'See? He'd already practically proclaimed you a knight even back then,' Tyrion said, once she had finished reading.

It was Jaime's hand, there was no doubt about that; Brienne recognised the untidy scrawl from when she'd tirelessly tried to help him learn to write with his left hand when they had arrived at the capital.

'When was this written?' Brienne asked in a small voice.

'A few weeks after…my father's death – it explains why I'm not…featured in it,' Tyrion replied awkwardly. 'You'd left the capital quite a while ago, I believe.'

He then held out Widow's Wail to her, though judging by the tremor in his facial expression, the strength needed to lift it up seemed to cost him greatly.

'It's yours,' Tyrion said proudly.

The words seemed to strike a chord with Brienne as she looked into his eyes and then gazed down at the sword he was holding out to her.

It's yours. It will always be yours.

She felt a tear form in her eye as she looked in front of her and suddenly saw, not Tyrion, but a much taller, handsome man stood before her in the middle of a red tent. That day had been so very long ago…and yet to Brienne, it felt like only yesterday…

* * *

Riverrun's walls rose tall and proud from the waters of the vast lake encircling it. Brienne and Pod came to a halt on their horses as they looked out at the fields occupied by hundreds of tents, horses and soldiers, all surrounding the impenetrable castle.

'Looks like a siege, milady,' Pod noted, looking up at her.

Brienne barely refrained from rolling her eyes. 'You have a keen military mind, Pod,' she said dryly.

The two of them had been tasked with delivering Lady Sansa's letter to Brynden Tully – otherwise known as the Blackfish – who had regrouped his forces whilst under siege from the Freys, in order to recruit him to the Stark's cause and acquire reinforcements to take back Winterfell from Ramsey Bolton. However, it was evident from the sight before them that this task would prove even more challenging than Brienne had first anticipated.

There were too many tents and soldiers for it to just be House Frey besieging the castle, and the sea of red spread out before them across the fields made it clear exactly which other House was helping them. No doubt some of these Lannister men would spot Brienne and Pod soon and detain them; keen to survey their territory quickly, Brienne looked around to observe the situation with her careful, sharp eyes. There were so many soldiers – how would she and Pod get past them to talk to the Blackfish? – and she could see a large group of even more of them riding down the centre of the campsite, led by a man on an extraordinary white horse that stood out easily amongst all the others. The man was clearly a knight and even more clearly in charge of the mission here today, judging from his magnificent armour and the confident way in which he led the group, his head held high, his hands – no, hand – taking control of the reigns –

Brienne began blinking rapidly.

It can't be.

Even from this distance, there was no mistaking him. She recognised his shape, the way he moved, the look of authority on his face as he gave out orders to his men.

It was Jaime Lannister.

Her heart thudded unsteadily as Brienne tried to control her expression and remember why she and Pod were here. It was hard to keep focussed now though…now that she knew after so long, after all this time pining and wondering if she would ever see him again, that at last they were in the same place, merely metres apart. For so long she had tried to keep thoughts of Jaime at bay, but now she was overwhelmed by the onslaught of memories…the look on Jaime's face the last time they'd seen each other as they bid farewell and she rode away…the way he'd placed his hand over hers as they'd sat together in his bedchambers…how he'd tended to her wounds and spoke tenderly to her of those embarrassing rumours while they'd camped by the river and the woods on the way back from Harrenhal…the bear pit…the bathtub…

She swallowed nervously. She had never seen Jaime ride without injury or exhaustion before; he looked good on horseback. Better than that – he looked incredible on horseback. Godly, even. She felt her lips twitch ever so slightly into what could almost be a half-smile as she watched him.

'My lady. My lady!' Pod then said urgently, but Brienne barely heard him or the hooves of horses galloping towards them.

She was so distracted gazing over at Jaime that it took her a few moments to realise that they had been surrounded by several Lannister soldiers. But this didn't bother her. She could sense Pod panicking at her side, but Brienne knew now that they wouldn't be in any danger here. Not when Jaime was in charge.

'Who goes there? State your business!' one of the soldiers commanded.

'My name is Brienne of Tarth. Please inform Ser Jaime Lannister I've come to speak with him,' Brienne replied confidently, and Pod jerked his head round at her in alarm. 'Tell him I have his sword.'

The soldiers exchanged suspicious glances.

'How is it you know the Kingslayer?' the first soldier demanded.

'Ser Jaime,' Brienne corrected him, and there was a smug glint in her eyes as she returned his glare. 'And you don't have enough time to waste hearing that story. Take me to him.'

One of the other soldiers scoffed. 'You really think Ser Jaime Lannister will want to speak to the likes of you? You think he has time to-?'

'By all means, you can ask him, I'm just wanting to save us all time,' Brienne cut over him loudly. 'Brienne of Tarth – that's all you have to say to him.'

The first soldier gave her a penetrating stare. 'You seem very sure of yourself.'

'Yes. I am.'

They were a silent for a few seconds and then –

'You'd better come with us.'

Brienne nodded, trying to maintain a cool composure, and gave Pod a reassuring glance before the two of them rode into the camp with the Lannister soldiers. They were escorted to a tent not too far from where she had seen Jaime on his white horse; once inside, the first soldier instructed Brienne and Pod to wait in silence while he sought out Ser Jaime. Brienne could sense from his anxious pacing that Pod was uneasy, but she felt strangely calm. Well, not quite calm. Her heart was racing and her hands were twitching with nerves, but it wasn't out of fear. She realised she was both apprehensive and excited about seeing Jaime again after all this time.

What if he doesn't want to see me and turns me away? What if he's forgotten about me?

Trying to ignore the irritating paranoid voice in her head, Brienne looked around at the swords and shields all stored in the tent she and Pod had been left in. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the shields and sighed. Brienne rarely wished for a pretty face nowadays, having become so accustomed to the constant mockery of her looks, but right now she found herself longing for the features, hair and shape a man would want. This was their reunion after all; it would do no good for Jaime to see her after so much time apart only to find her dirty and sweaty, and most likely uglier and even more manly than he had remembered her as. She reached a hand up to fix her hair and slicked it back in desperation, but it was no use. She would just have to do as she was.

'Are you all right, milady?' Pod asked quietly. 'You seem a little…agitated.'

'I'm fine,' Brienne muttered.

He smiled sympathetically. 'I'm sure he'll be pleased to see you.'

Brienne looked up at him. 'I appreciate that, Pod, but I…I'm not so sure about that,' she said doubtfully.

What's taking so long? Where is he?

Meanwhile, merely a few metres down the campsite, Jaime himself stood by the large ornate table taking up most of the space within his luscious tent, his eyes surveying the large map of Riverrun's grounds. He had been sent to assist the Freys in retaking Riverrun from the Blackfish, but it was hard for Jaime to ignore his irritable mood; he was still reeling from embarrassment and shame after being expelled from the Kingsguard by King Tommen Baratheon…his own son. Determined to prove his worth, Jaime had arrived with thousands of Lannister soldiers and knights, and he had successfully taken control of the siege. However, Jaime's attempted parlay with the Blackfish had gone terribly – as expected, it would most likely turn to bloodshed – and so the combined Lannister and Frey forces were currently digging trenches and positioning trebuchets around the castle, ready for the inevitable battle. Part of Jaime wished it wouldn't come to this, but he knew there was no other way. Besides, why should he shy away from the Lannister legacy, from the fear that came with that name, from the bloodshed and death that name carried? He had no reason to anymore.

Jaime cursed under his breath as a soldier then walked through into the tent, bold as anything; why did these imbeciles always interrupt him? Did they not realise he had important work to carry out?

'Ser Jaime, forgive the intrusion, but you have a visitor,' the soldier announced.

Jaime looked up at him incredulously. 'In case you haven't realised, I'm a little preoccupied at the minute. There isn't much time for entertaining any visitors,' he said in an exasperated tone.

'Just as well,' the soldier said smugly. 'It's a woman dressed in armour, she just turned up claiming she wants to speak to you about your sword. Stupid bitch-'

But Jaime cut over him at once, his eyes wide. 'A woman?'

The soldier raised his eyebrows. 'If you can call that a woman, yes. She calls herself Brienne of-'

'-Tarth, yes. I know her,' Jaime said urgently, his heart suddenly racing, the map on the table completely forgotten. 'She's here? Are you sure? Is she well?'

The soldier paused and stared at Jaime for a moment. Was he being serious?

'I'm sorry?' he said, confused.

Jaime's cheeks coloured slightly. 'I-I only meant that I hope you have treated her with respect. She's really here?' he said in disbelief, and he found himself smiling.

'Y-yes, my lord-'

'Where is she?' he asked.

'In one of the other tents, with a squire-'

'Bring Lady Brienne here at once. Please. Now!' Jaime ordered firmly.

Perplexed, the soldier retreated hastily; the moment he'd left, Jaime hurried to the other side of the tent anxiously to survey his reflection. As he hurriedly attempted to smooth down his hair and ensure his armour was fitted correctly, a strange laugh escaped Jaime's mouth.

What's the matter with me?

A woman he highly respected, one of the few people in this world that he genuinely cared about – enough to even endanger his own life just to save hers – was about to walk through into this very tent to see him, after so very long apart…and he felt like a giddy adolescent, filled with anticipation and nerves.

He hadn't thought about Brienne in quite some time. Yes, he'd wondered how she was and where she could be, but ever since the aftermath of Myrcella's death he hadn't really thought about her…about the way she scowled or the way the front strands of her hair dangled untidily against her forehead when she didn't have time to brush it back or the way she awkwardly manoeuvred in her bulky armour or the way she had looked in her blue attire on the day of Joffrey's wedding or the way her features had softened whenever she'd tended to Jaime's wounds after Harrenhal…those secluded evenings in the woods and by the river on the Kingsroad…that day in his quarters in the Red Keep before an outraged Cersei had burst in –

Jaime swallowed uncomfortably as he began to pace the tent. The undercurrents in their complicated, fraught relationship made him almost uneasy to look back on now, but there was no point in him denying to himself that they were so very alike and both held a deep affection for one another…unless that had changed for Brienne, and she was simply here on business and had moved on from their time together.

Why did she want to talk to him about his sword, Jaime wondered?

She had named it Oathkeeper.

They'd both known that day that giving her a Valyrian steel sword was no small thing. It was extremely rare and valuable, and had been a gift to Jaime from his father…though Brienne didn't know that. Was there a problem with it? Did she no longer want it? He couldn't understand why if that were the case.

He spun around as he then heard movement from the entrance flap of the tent, and there she was. He had never expected to see Brienne ever again, particularly not marching into his military camp, and yet there was no mistaking her tall figure, her short blonde hair, the suit of armour he'd had made for her, her face that looked equally as stunned to see him as he was to see her. The air was suddenly filled with unspoken affection and unspeakable loss as the two old friends gazed at each other in disbelief, both overwhelmed by a rush of relief and nostalgia. Jaime felt his shoulders relax, as if all the tension, stress and anger leading up to this siege at Riverrun was dissolving, and all that mattered was how content he felt just to see Brienne after so long apart.

'Brienne of Tarth,' Jaime said, almost wistfully, and he smiled. 'It is you.'

A small, humble smile flickered momentarily on Brienne's lips. 'It is.'

He had removed his armour and wore a simple dark leather jerkin; it was smart and fitted him well. To Brienne's surprise, he had aged somewhat noticeably since they had last seen each other; the tired lines on his face seemed permanently etched into his skin, and there was a light stubble of salt-and-pepper hair covering his chin. But it was still the Jaime she knew and remembered. The sound of his voice sent her heart soaring, and to be stood so near him…in the privacy of this tent away from the soldiers and the siege and all of it…it made her feel like she was back in King's Landing with him, or better still on the road travelling back from Harrenhal. It was as if no time had passed at all.

'I hardly dared believe it when I was told you were here,' Jaime went on, and the tone of his voice unnerved him; it had been too long since he had last spoken without sounding sly or curt or incensed.

They tentatively stepped towards each other, and for one mad second Jaime almost felt like hugging her. Brienne began to hold her hand out as if to shake his; Jaime took hers before she was able to change her mind and withdraw, but instead bent down to kiss the top of it. The gesture shocked Brienne so much that she couldn't speak for many moments.

Jaime frowned in bemusement as he let go of her hand. 'Forgive me, I don't know why I did that,' he said awkwardly.

'It's quite all right,' Brienne said, flustered.

He backed away and walked around to the other side of the tent, unsure of what to do but certain he needed to keep this as formal as possible. Brienne remained by the entrance, leaving the long table – and a nervous tension in the air – between them. Neither of them could understand this strange feeling. They were both happy to see each other, but they didn't know how to recognise it…nor could they allow themselves to recognise or act on the other emotions raging through their minds in this moment. They had to hold their cards so close to their chest, even when they knew from their history that this was so much more than just two soldiers meeting…they just couldn't acknowledge it.

'I trust you're well, Ser Jaime?' Brienne asked, and to her embarrassment her voice wavered slightly.

Jaime hesitated, unsure of how to answer; he hadn't been 'well' for an extremely long time. 'I'm…I…I'm well at the moment,' he replied. 'I've – we've missed you at King's Landing.'

Brienne frowned, bemused. 'We?'

'Yes. The court,' Jaime clarified hastily. 'Your presence was…highly valued.'

'I'm…very touched,' Brienne said, though she looked sceptical.

'H-how has Podrick been?' Jaime asked.

'He's turned out to be a remarkable squire, I must admit,' Brienne replied gratefully. 'He's loyal. And a good friend. You were right to have faith in him.'

'I'm glad to hear it. And how are you, my lady?' Jaime asked, his voice almost tender. 'It seems so long since we last saw each other.'

'It does. I'm…very well, thank you,' Brienne said, and she was; she had been very content since going into Sansa's service. 'I'm here on behalf of Lady Sansa-'

'Sansa?' Jaime interrupted, pleasantly surprised. 'She's alive?'

It took Brienne a moment to realise that of course Jaime wouldn't have known that Sansa was still alive – she'd asked Pod to burn that letter she'd written to him, after all, and how could Jaime have heard it from anyone else?

'Yes.'

'I can't believe it. I never thought you'd find her – I just assumed Sansa was dead,' Jaime admitted.

Brienne frowned; if he'd assumed as much, then why had he sent her away from King's Landing in the first place? Had he just wanted to be rid of her?

'Why would you assume that?' she asked, disappointed and perplexed.

'In my experience, girls like her don't live very long,' Jaime said simply, though he felt awkward saying it.

Brienne resented such a statement, and her voice was cold and stern as she retorted, 'I don't think you know many girls like her.'

Jaime hesitated for a moment as he looked at her, still hardly daring to believe that she was really here, stood just there before him. 'Well, I'm proud of you,' he said unashamedly.

Brienne looked at him, touched, and then lowered her gaze and began to blink rapidly, unable to fully process that those words had really just come out of Jaime Lannister's mouth.

'I am. You fulfilled your oath to Catelyn Stark against all odds,' Jaime went on, his tone soft and full of pride.

He watched her fondly as she continued to blink nervously and blushed. He knew that Brienne was very rarely shy – only ever in moments of emotional honesty did she let her tough mask slip slightly. He had missed seeing that; the way her features softened, the slight hint of a half-smile forming on her lips. It was so rare for her to receive a compliment. Too rare.

'Of course, my sister wants Sansa dead,' Jaime said, the tone of his voice changing suddenly as if he'd been unnerved by the tenderness of the moment, and Brienne watched him sharply as he walked around to the other end of the table. 'The girl is still a suspect in Joffrey's murder, so there is that…complication.'

His eyes ran over Brienne as he spoke the last word, almost playfully, and he frowned at her, still astonished to see her stood there, gazing defiantly back at him. He didn't like the way she was looking at him; it was as if she was challenging him to declare her an enemy of himself and his sister, when they both knew he would never do that. But there was no denying that Brienne was on the opposite side of this war now, fighting for the wrong side, for the Starks whom Cersei so dearly hated. Technically, Jaime and Brienne were enemies now, and there was no getting around that fact. But Jaime knew that Brienne had known that, and yet she had still entered this camp to see him anyway. She had faith in him that he would treat her fairly and justly, a faith that no other person would have in him. She was too good for this world, and certainly too good for this place right now, here with him and hundreds of other cruel men in the midst of a siege that would inevitably turn into a horrific battle.

'What the hell are you doing here?' he asked her quietly, and Brienne wondered if it was concern she could hear in his voice.

'I've come for the Blackfish,' Brienne replied.

Jaime looked bewildered. 'You're welcome to have him,' he said dryly.

'Lady Sansa desires to take her ancestral seat back from the Boltons and assume her rightful position as Lady of Winterfell,' Brienne explained.

Jaime looked sceptical, and yet also uneasy; these were dangerous waters they were treading on. 'With what army does she plan on taking Winterfell?' he asked, his eyebrows raised.

'The Tully army.'

'They're a bit occupied at the moment. I was sent here to reclaim Riverrun currently defended by the Tully rebels, so you can see the conundrum,' Jaime said irritably.

He was amused yet also annoyed by their situation; here they were, trying desperately to avoid talking about anything personal, standing very stiffly and as far as they could from each other, speaking correctly and formally as if those secluded moments they had shared together in that steamy bathtub and those moonlit nights in the woods and those tender conversations of comfort in the capital had never happened.

'The Tullys are rebels because they're fighting for their home?' Brienne asked sceptically, frowning at him.

'Riverrun was granted to the Freys by royal decree-' Jaime pointed out hotly, but Brienne interrupted him in outrage.

'As a reward for betraying Robb Stark and slaughtering his family,' she said angrily, her voice much louder than before.

'Exactly,' Jaime snapped.

His expression was torn, his eyes angry, his jaw set. Brienne's face fell slightly as a silence fell between them and she wondered if perhaps her fears had come true; had he turned back into the golden-lion Jaime Lannister of his past? Could he really condone this 'royal decree'?

Jaime blinked slightly as he took in her saddened expression. He'd almost forgotten that he was part of the family that had granted that reward in the first place. It filled him with the deepest shame right now. It felt like they had almost fallen right back into the old routine of their days in the Riverlands…Jaime saying something sarcastic, Brienne saying something defensive, the resentful glares, the bickering…It was in that moment when Jaime realised just how much he had missed Brienne's presence.

He frowned. 'We shouldn't argue about politics,' he muttered irritably, turning away.

He wished they weren't confined by such formalities. He wished they could be familiar with each other, as they had once been, and yet a part of him hated that he cared so deeply for her. Brienne hated it too, but it was no use. Whatever his true political views on this war may be, she knew that she could count on Jaime to be decent when it really mattered, even if no one else did. Even after all this time apart, she still understood him better than he did himself, and they both knew that.

'You're a knight, Ser Jaime. I know there is honour in you,' Brienne said, her words warming Jaime's heart as he slowly walked along the side of the table, his head bent low. 'I've seen it myself-'

'I'm a Lannister,' Jaime cut over her in a turmoiled voice, and the name felt almost like a prison as much as it did a burden for him. 'Don't ask me to betray my own house.'

He looked up at her and met her beseeching gaze, and he was overwhelmed by relief that she was here, and yet also sadness that she was seeing him here like this, in this capacity, preparing to fight and kill everyone here in the name of his cruel, twisted sister. If anyone else disrespected him, lost faith in him, thought badly of him, distrusted or disliked him in any way, it didn't really matter. But with Brienne it was different. He wanted her to trust him – no, he needed her to. And he couldn't explain why, not even to himself. All he knew was that she made him want to be good. He'd forgotten just how much.

Brienne glanced over his shoulder at the stone figurine of a lion that stood on the ornate chest behind him. Yes, he was a Lannister. But he could be his own version of a Lannister. He could change what the name 'Lannister' meant.

'I do no such thing,' Brienne said firmly, taking a step towards the table. 'Take Riverrun without bloodshed. Ride south again with your mission complete and your army intact.'

'What do you propose?' Jaime asked, intrigued and also hopeful.

He suddenly wished this table wasn't between them. He wanted to be closer to her.

'Allow me to enter Riverrun under a flag of truce,' Brienne said urgently, and Jaime barely refrained from rolling his eyes. 'Let me try to persuade the Blackfish to give up the castle.'

Jaime didn't like this plan, particularly when it put Brienne in danger. He knew that she was more than capable of defending herself, but still, he didn't like it.

'Why would he abandon his ancestral home?' he pointed out.

'Because you'll allow him to lead the Tully forces safely north,' Brienne replied.

Jaime looked at her for a moment, incredulous, then sighed exasperatedly. That naïve woman he had first met was still in there, even after all she had endured. She still had so such faith.

'Have you ever met the Blackfish?' he asked.

Brienne hesitated. 'No.'

'He's even more stubborn than you are,' Jaime said in a disgruntled voice, though the stern look in in his eyes didn't quite conceal the fondness he felt as he spoke.

He watched as she lowered her gaze. It was hopeless. He served the Lannisters, and what Brienne was suggesting would be going against everything he had told Cersei he would do. But this was Brienne. And she was trying to do things the right way. It was time he went back to doing that himself.

'All right,' Jaime said, and Brienne looked up at him in surprise as he walked around the table towards her. 'Try to talk some sense into the old goat. He won't listen, but his men might. Not everybody wants to die for someone else's home.'

Brienne turned towards him, relieved. 'I need your word,' she said. 'If I persuade him to abandon the castle, you'll grant a safe passage north.'

Jaime nodded. 'You have my word,' he promised. 'You have until nightfall.'

Brienne nodded back, and Jaime felt his heart swell; she accepted his word without question. He didn't know anyone else who would do that. It made everything feel like it was worth it, even if he was going against everything Cersei stood for. By allowing the Blackfish and his men to evacuate the castle and travel north to help the remaining Starks retake Winterfell from Ramsay Bolton, he was helping the enemy. And yet he didn't feel bad for granting this favour to Brienne, because he knew she was on the right side. He was just trapped on the wrong one. It scared him how she had this strange ability to bring out the best in him.

A lump in her throat, Brienne looked down and began unbuckling the belt fastened around her armour.

For a moment Jaime began to panic, but then realised as he watched that she wasn't undressing; she was removing her sword from its scabbard. Oathkeeper. Jaime looked up at her with raised eyebrows exasperatedly.

No. You are not doing this.

Brienne removed the sword, its hilt as glistening and gleaming as it had been on the day he'd given it to her, and held it out to him. He didn't know why he was surprised. He would never expect anything less of her. Jaime looked at Brienne's softened expression and saw that she looked almost younger and more innocent somehow as she gazed at him, ready to part with the sword she cherished so dearly. Jaime slowly took a few steps towards her, his eyes running over Oathkeeper fondly, and he sighed, nodding heavily as they both thought longingly back to their last few days together in the capital.

'You gave it to me for a purpose,' Brienne said, and Jaime looked up at her. 'I've achieved that purpose.'

She didn't want to give Oathkeeper back, and it wasn't just because it had served her well and been the best sword she'd ever owned. If she parted ways with this sword, her connection with Jaime would be severed forever. But it was Jaime's by right; he had given it to her to help her in her mission to find Sansa, and now that was over. This was the end of their story now. She wished it wasn't, but she knew it was how things must be.

Jaime raised his eyebrows, a small smile on his face as he nodded in agreement and looked back at Oathkeeper in her hands, the sword that was the pure embodiment or their irrevocable bond to one another. Surely she must recognise just as much as he did that he cared for her? Or had she forgotten their shared exchanges and looks during their intimate moments together on the road heading back from Harrenhal or in the capital? He'd hoped on their last day together back in the King's Landing that Brienne would have understood from his gift just how much she meant to him, but perhaps she hadn't got the message.

'It's yours,' Jaime said softly, and it felt as if a veil between them had suddenly been lifted as he gazed into her eyes. 'It will always be yours.'

As he spoke the words, Jaime was hit with the realisation that he didn't just mean the sword. Brienne gazed back at him wordlessly for a moment, her lips parted, her beautiful blue eyes wide as she tried to take in his meaning. Her heart racing, she then tore her gaze away from his, unable to cope anymore, and fixed Oathkeeper back onto her belt while trying desperately to ignore the tingles running through her entire body.

Jaime watched her, wishing she could know the things he longed to say. He conveyed it in a simple glance, but it was as if she was determined to make herself blind to it. Perhaps in another life, if he were a better person and uncommitted to his sister, he could say these things that he was trying so hard not to feel. His heart was an open book, just as Brienne's was, and yet both of them were pretending they couldn't see it because it was the only way they could carry on, for this was the life they had been given and the paths they had chosen.

Brienne could still feel his eyes on her, but she stayed focussed on trying (but struggling) to put her sword back in place, desperate to suppress the burgeoning love she felt for this man. Her fingers were trembling. She didn't understand what she had just seen in that gaze of his. She was hideous and ugly, the complete opposite to Cersei.

How could he ever love me?

But then why would he say that Oathkeeper would always be hers with such tenderness and affection? Why would he gaze at her in such a way?

Jaime watched her, waiting for her to say something in response, but Brienne couldn't deal with it. She had nothing to give him in return, and she was scared that if she were to open her mouth, he would be subjected to a humiliating declaration of love. Giving up on putting her sword back onto her belt, Brienne bent her head down low and turned away to leave the tent in a hurry without even looking at him, her sword and belt clutched in her hand.

Jaime's face fell slightly as he watched her walk away towards the tent entrance, crushed.

You're leaving already?!

Vulnerable and forlorn, he instantly walked after her. Seeing her again had reinvigorated him; was she really just going to leave straight away like their time together had meant nothing?

Brienne had nearly stepped outside to re-join Pod when she thought better of it and spun back round to face Jaime by the entrance of the tent. 'One last thing, Ser Jaime,' she said nervously.

She blinked rapidly, surprised by how close he was stood in front of her; his face was merely inches from hers.

Jaime smirked. Really? After everything we've been through, you're still calling me 'Ser'?

'Yes, Lady Brienne?' he said playfully, a hint of a flirtatious smile on his face that didn't make this any easier for Brienne.

'Should I fail to persuade the Blackfish to surrender…and if you attack the castle…honour compels me to fight for Sansa's kin,' Brienne said anxiously.

'Of course it does,' Jaime said reassuringly, confused as to why she seemed so distressed by this thought.

'To fight you,' Brienne clarified, her voice wavering.

Jaime felt like he had been kicked in the stomach. He had forgotten just how Brienne had this inexplicable talent of being able to say or do something that would completely catch him off guard and his expression, usually always set in the solemn mask of Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, would falter. His jaw dropped just a fraction as he looked at her now with a quiet, stoic look of pure devastation on his face and struggled to come up with the words to say, his eyes suddenly big and beseeching as he restrained the urge to move closer to her. He felt overwrought with grief and fear at the mere notion of fighting her, and he knew it had nothing to do with her skill or her being an enemy of the Lannisters. Brienne was the only thing that was right in this broken world that he lived in, and for some inexplicable reason, as he continued to gaze at Brienne in anguish, he found his own words that he had spoken on his last day with his beloved Myrcella ringing through his ears…

'We don't choose whom we love. It just…well…it's beyond our control.'

A lump rose in Jaime's throat as he looked at Brienne's tearful face swimming before him. 'Let's hope it doesn't come to that,' he said.

They both continued to gaze at each other fearfully, horrified at the prospect. If only the nature of war and honour didn't command them to pit themselves against each other in a fight…but to go against that would be to go against who they fundamentally were as people. It was strange, how the idea of a fight against Brienne made him feel so distraught, when long ago it had excited him. Despite the fact that she had beat him that day of their sword fight on the bridge years ago, Jaime had thoroughly enjoyed himself…perhaps because he hadn't cared about Brienne back then. But he did care about her now, far more than he should, and he knew from the quivering of Brienne's chin now as she gazed desperately at him that she cared about him too.

I won't be able to do it, Brienne realised, her brow furrowed. If it comes to it, I won't be able to fight him. How could I? I love him.

They were both so close to saying what they felt in that moment as they gazed at each other…but there was a siege and a war on, and a mission to get on with. Her lower lip trembling, Brienne then turned abruptly away from Jaime and swept from the tent without another word, her hand clutched tightly around Oathkeeper's hilt. Jaime watched her go, the intensity of the moment and Brienne's gaze having momentarily paralyzed him, and his heart sank as he let her march away into the camp to find Pod, both of them filled with instant regret.

In their time apart, he had forgotten just what a wonderfully honourable person Brienne was. He had forgotten what a good influence she had on him. He had forgotten that she was one of the few people who saw something in him other than the Kingslayer. And now she was going to walk into the lair of the beast and undoubtedly engage in a battle where she could very well perish, without her knowing any of this. He couldn't let that be it. He just couldn't.

Before he knew what he was doing, Jaime then walked out of the tent, leaving behind his armour, weapons, maps and plans for the siege, and hurriedly followed Brienne's retreating figure out into the camp. He didn't know what he was going to say to her. But he had to say something, before she walked out of his life, potentially forever.

* * *

~ Present Day ~

'It's yours.'

Tyrion's words were ringing in her ears, and yet it was only Jaime's voice Brienne could hear.

She pushed away Widow's Wail. 'I don't want it.'

'Oh I'm sorry, have you turned into Jon Snow?' Tyrion said irritably, raising his eyes in exasperation to the ceiling of her new bedchambers.

Brienne frowned at him, confused. 'What?'

'Never mind,' Tyrion said, and he sighed wearily as he propped the sword down, the point of its blade touching the floor. 'Ser Brienne…my brother requested that you have this upon his death.'

'Years ago-'

'And he left it in your chambers for you the night he left Winterfell,' Tyrion insisted.

'He already gave me this sword, at the time of Joffrey's death,' Brienne said, indicating Oathkeeper, hung up by her new suit of golden armour.

'I know. And he never wanted these two swords to be parted for too long. They're part of one, after all. They belong together,' Tyrion said earnestly. 'That's what I think – no, what I know – he believed. True knights have two swords, after all.'

Brienne closed her eyes as she heard Jaime's sly voice.

'I never understood why some knights felt the need to carry two swords.'

A hint of a smile fell on her lips at the memory. She opened her eyes and looked back at Tyrion and the sword, glistening there in all its glory. She thought of the words Jaime had written in his will. She thought of the great sword Ice, the two halves of which both Jaime and Brienne had used to defend Ned Stark's castle together.

'Very well, leave it there,' Brienne murmured eventually, indicating the desk near to them.

Tyrion nodded slowly, relieved, and walked over to lay Widow's Wail on top of the desk. There was a certain hesitancy in the way he peered up at Brienne as he walked back over to her.

'My dear lady, are you all right?' he asked, aching with pity for her.

Brienne barely shrugged as she turned away from him, her eyes fixed on the balcony. 'As all right as I'll ever be, I suppose.'

'It'll pass. Eventually. Time heals most wounds, so I believe,' Tyrion murmured, and he sighed. 'So I very much hope anyway.'

At this, Brienne's lips parted and she slowly turned around to face him, her expression softened somewhat. 'Forgive me, Lord Tyrion. He was your brother. You must miss him terribly.'

'Just Tyrion, please,' Tyrion corrected her at once. 'And I do. He could be a rude, arrogant fool, but he…he was always kind to me. He was different from the rest of my family. He was never ashamed that he loved me.'

'I…I keep forgetting that he's gone,' Brienne murmured, her voice breaking slightly as she sank onto a chair at the table. 'The other day I walked to the gardens, and I thought of how we'd sometimes arrange to meet there in secret after Lady Catelyn's death, and…without thinking I just turned to go and find him in the Lord Commander's quarters…well, in my quarters now, I suppose. It was as if I was…back in the past. It had felt so vivid, like I could just walk up some steps and find him here and speak to him again. I hear things that would make him laugh…I come across things that he'd love to see…and I go to tell him and…and then I remember.'

'I've been experiencing something similar, I must confess. It's…terribly hard to bear,' Tyrion said, his voice wavering. 'But we must bear it. Together, if you like. I would very much like to be your friend, Ser Brienne.'

Brienne looked at him and nodded tentatively, stunned.

Tyrion looked somewhat relieved. 'You know, in another life, had things gone more our way and the wretched man hadn't been blinded by his poisonous honour for his family…I have no doubt you would have become my sister-in-law. I would have been extremely happy to have called you 'sister', Ser Brienne,' he said warmly. 'If that…brings you any comfort.'

Brienne managed a small, weak half-smile. 'I'm touched by your sentiment, but…I'm not sure that would ever have happened.'

Tyrion gazed at her; her doubt made him more dismayed than he could say. 'He loved you, you know,' he said softly.

'I know. It just wasn't enough,' Brienne murmured, downcast. 'He would never have stayed with me in the end, would he? It was foolish of me to think he meant to.'

'But he did mean to, my lady,' Tyrion said earnestly. 'He told me so himself.'

'Then he lied to you as well as me,' Brienne muttered, though she knew that was just the anger talking now.

'Do you really believe that?' Tyrion asked sadly. 'If he hadn't found out Cersei's life was in immediate danger then-'

'Her life was always going to be in danger,' Brienne interrupted.

'Exactly. And he knew that all those weeks he was with you. Bronn told him so, and yet he still stayed in Winterfell, at your side. Because he was happy. He was so happy with you, he told me so himself,' Tyrion insisted, 'and I've never seen him the way he was when he was with you at Winterfell. But it was too much for him to bear, at least when he knew Cersei and the baby were going to die-'

Tyrion broke off and froze. Brienne stared at him.

'Oh, I…forgive me, I didn't think,' Tyrion said, horrified, but there was nothing he could do now; it was too late and he couldn't take it back. 'I…I didn't know if you knew she was pregnant.'

Brienne said nothing.

He swallowed nervously. 'You know, if it's any consolation…if it hadn't been for the baby, I think he would have stayed in Winterfell.'

'Do you?' Brienne asked sharply. 'I think he would have chosen her either way.'

'He didn't choose her – he chose the baby, he chose his vow. In fact, he didn't really have a choice in the matter at all, at least not in his mind,' Tyrion said. 'He was honour-bound by oath to go back. And who was it who taught him to value honour?'

Brienne glared at him, offended. 'Are you trying to blame me for what he did?' she said, outraged. 'You're saying his death is my fault?'

'No, my lady, I would never do that, nor think it,' Tyrion said at once. 'I'm just trying to make you see that the man he'd become would never have left his sister and unborn child to the wolves – or should I say dragons – like that, especially not when he'd pledged to keep them from harm. That just wasn't the sort of man he was. You loved him, you knew him better than most, surely you understand that.'

'I do,' Brienne said slowly, calming down slightly. 'I just…I sometimes find it hard to understand what was going on his mind…what the point was in him staying in Winterfell all that time when he knew all this anyway…'

Tyrion nodded heavily. 'I…well I know it was his full intention to stay with you. But he always thought he was Cersei's twin in personality, you see. He thought he was as evil and twisted as she was,' he said sadly. 'I know my brother, I know how that tormented mind of his worked. You said that the day he left, Lady Sansa told him of Cersei's imminent execution, and…well I think that will have triggered the…the 'golden lion' within him. He loathed himself because of it, and he loved you for showing him something different. You were the one constant thing that brought…lightness into his life. A lightness he felt he didn't deserve.'

It wasn't until she felt the tear drop onto her hand that Brienne realised she was crying.

'He thought his own darkness was tainting your life,' Tyrion went on, knowing she needed to hear this. 'And he had to break your heart to stop you from following him to his doom.'

'You sound very sure of that,' Brienne murmured, wiping her cheeks.

'I am,' Tyrion said firmly. 'Because…being Hand of the King allows for some knowledge in these matters.'

Brienne's eyes widened in shock as she understood what he meant.

Tyrion smiled sadly at her. 'Bran saw everything. It was honour for his family and hatred of himself that drove Jaime away from Winterfell. It wasn't you. But you know that already, don't you?' he said, giving her a knowing look, and Brienne pressed her lips together as the tears fell, and she nodded. 'You were the reason he managed to stay as long as he did, before Cersei's control over him won when he found out her life was in danger. You must remember that, Ser Brienne. He would have hated for you to think he did not care for you. He was cruel in the end, yes, but to save you. Because he loved you with all his heart. You were the reason he came to Winterfell to risk his life fighting against an army of dead men. The man he was before he met you would never have done that. You made him decent. You made him happy. You gave him…a glimpse…of a wonderful life with you, away from the tragic existence he'd always known.'

'If only he'd accepted that other life,' Brienne said in a small voice.

'If only he had,' Tyrion murmured, and he paused as he watched her, sat there at the table with nothing but pain etched across her face. 'You should talk to him, you know.'

'I'm sorry?' Brienne said, confused.

'You pray, do you not? Even though he's not here anymore, you should still talk to him, as if he is. I do,' Tyrion said encouragingly. 'Trust me, it helps.'

Brienne scoffed. 'Are you trying to make a fool of me?'

'No. I'm trying to help make your grief a little easier,' he said gently. 'Well…a little less painful, anyway.'

'I…I don't know what I would say…' Brienne murmured doubtfully.

'Just say what you feel. Talk to him as if he were sat opposite you,' Tyrion said, and he sighed. 'Ser Brienne, he may be dead but he's not truly gone. Not really. He's still in here.'

He was pointing at her chest, where her broken heart still managed to keep beating. Brienne nodded slowly, her chin wobbling, her lips trembling, and suddenly she found herself grateful that at least she had one Lannister still in her life.

Once Tyrion had left, Brienne washed and got dressed into a new tunic and breeches – she'd need to wait for Pod to help her with her armour – and she felt a surge of hope as she thought over Tyrion's words. Perhaps he was right. Jaime would have stopped at nothing to try and guarantee Cersei's survival and safety, but whether Cersei had survived or not, if he had lived his choice would still have been Brienne. She knew that. His heart would always have stayed firmly with her.

It's yours. It will always be yours.

Brienne's eyes turned to Widow's Wail on the table, and Oathkeeper hung up beside her armour. Every time she touched or saw those swords, she felt a huge swell of grief. But they had been a part of Jaime, and a part of their story. And now they were both hers, to keep their story alive. So she knew that her battered heart would manage to soldier on, because that was what she did best, and besides, Tyrion was right – Jaime wasn't really gone. He would always be with her, just as he always had been, since the day they met. And nothing, not even a city-destroying dragon or the huge pile of rubble in the castle's basement or the ghost of Cersei Lannister, could ever take that away from her.

Chapter Text

The day of the first small council session with the new King dawned bright and early. Brienne was already armoured and fed by the time most people had awoken, and as it was a considerable few hours before she was due to meet with her new colleagues, she and Pod left the confines of the crumbling Red Keep and set out on a few patrols of the city.

It came as a great surprise for Brienne to see that the broken remains of the streets weren't as empty as they had been previously. The survivors from Daenerys' brutal, monstrous attack had all assembled to help clean up and rebuild, and others who had previously run away seemed to have returned to get involved in restarting the lives of everyone in King's Landing. There were children playing, a man over in the corner of one of the remaining archways playing songs on the lute, adolescents riding around on horses and laughing, and older adults helping sweep the ash away from the ground and move the rubble…just as Brienne and Jaime had done back in Winterfell.

While Pod beamed around in wonder at the hopeful crowds that had formed in the streets to celebrate the end of the war, Brienne came to a halt as she caught sight of a young couple arguing loudly beside a pile of bricks, furiously scowling at each other as they snapped endless insults. Brienne envied them. She missed her and Jaime's antagonistic bickering almost as much as she missed their tender love for one another. As she watched the angry couple continue to shout, Brienne found herself thinking back to her words a few months ago…

'We've never had a conversation last this long without you insulting me. Not once.'

Brienne couldn't help wondering why she had said that to Jaime. Had she forgotten Harrenhal and the journey with Steelshanks back to King's Landing, not to mention those secluded moments alone together in the capital? Had she forgotten Riverrun?

No, I mustn't think of that.

Blinking rapidly, Brienne turned her back on the fighting couple, though was in such a daze that Pod ended up having to pull her back just in time to stop her from walking into one of the horses riding past.

'Watch yourself, milady!' Pod said, frowning up at her in concern.

Brienne murmured an apology to Pod though he could tell she was still distracted as she watched the riders on their horses longingly. Pod sighed sympathetically as he remembered one day in Winterfell almost two months ago, when they had both been riding back to the castle from winter town to see Sansa, only to ride past Jaime on his way to take over the patrol. Brienne had turned back and rode over to Jaime so she could steal a kiss; he'd kissed her back eagerly, amused, before she'd then leaned away and turned wordlessly to ride on with Pod and continue with her duties, carefree and full of laughter and a soar in her heart. Pod could still vividly see that joyous smile on her blushing face as they'd ridden back to the castle. Domestic bliss had suited her. He hoped dearly that she would be able to experience such happiness again at some point in the future. He knew no one who deserved it more than Brienne.

Both Brienne and Pod then froze as the man with the lute began to play a new song.

'He lifted her high in the air

He sniffed and roared and smelled her there…'

Pod didn't know the song well, but he knew its significance. He knew what it meant to Brienne; she had told him herself. He looked up at her in dismay and his face fell at the fear and agony in Brienne's eyes as she stared at the man with the lute, her jaw set, her chin quivering.

'…From there to here, from here to there

All black and brown and covered with hair…'

Brienne exhaled shakily, overcome with emotion as the memories flooded to the very front of her mind, and she listened, as if paralysed, to the song that Locke and his men had constantly sung in the woods when they had captured Jaime and Brienne and tied them up together, the song Bolton's solders had serenaded her with just before Jaime had jumped into the bear pit and saved her life, the song that had played at Joffrey's wedding…on the day Brienne had realised her true feelings for Jaime.

'May I have the honour, my lady?'

'But there's no music.'

'We'll make our own.'

She could vividly remember the way he'd put his hand on her waist and held her close as they'd swayed on the spot in their bedchambers while he'd hummed 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair' with a grin…

'What? I've grown fond of the song.'

'Well you're terrible at singing it.'

Brienne's hands began to shake and she felt herself rapidly dissociating from the war-torn, demolished streets and the brave, hopeful people around her, her body seemingly out of her control as her breathing came out in wild gasps. A sickening rush of adrenaline spread throughout Brienne's body and she felt like she was drowning, that everything was closing in around her, her golden armour was too tight and suffocating her…

I don't understand…what is this? What's happening to me?

Heart racing. Blood pounding in her ears. Walls closing in.

Breathe. Breathe. Calm down, you're making a fool of yourself.

There were distant sounds of Pod's comforting voice attempting to penetrate her hearing, but he was so far away, the sound muffled… 'Milady, are you all right? Ser Brienne…Brienne, you should sit down, let me take you back inside…'

She had broken out in a cold sweat, her legs couldn't stop shaking, her heart was pounding uncontrollably, her throat closing up, her chest growing tighter and tighter, as if it were about to burst.

But then, at last, she managed to form words. 'I-I need to go…'

'Yes, milady,' Pod said, sounding relieved. 'Let me take you-'

'No, I need to be alone,' Brienne said firmly, feeling rather nauseous. 'I can't be here.'

She was already walking away, though she swayed slightly as she made her way across the ash and rubble back towards the Red Keep.

'Tell him to stop. Tell him to play something else, anything else,' Brienne said to Pod urgently, as the dizziness threatened to consume her.

'Y-yes, milady…'

Pod's voice was faint and unsure as Brienne hurried away from the streets and the lute player and back into the safety of the Red Keep, furious with herself. She had fought and killed an army of dead men, she had suffered great losses more times than she could count, she was a warrior and had endured every insult and torture and ill luck the gods had deemed to fit to challenge her with, and yet this was what made her feel close to fainting? An innocent man playing a well-known song on his lute? It was ridiculous.

Once inside, she climbed the steps up to her tower in a panic, praying that no one would see her in this state. Before she knew it, she had arrived at the steps leading up to her apartments, but Brienne paused as she looked down the corridor towards the room that she had long been avoiding. She took a deep breath and without thinking slowly turned and began to walk towards the open doorway. It was strange how the rooms in this tower remained the few that were untouched by Drogon's attack. Strange, but somehow fitting as well.

Brienne hesitated a moment before entering, wondering why she was putting herself through this.

I must stop running away.

Like she had said to Tyrion, these memories were all she had left – she had to face them. She had to cherish them. Swallowing, Brienne then stepped through the doorway, wondering what it had been like for Jaime the very first time he'd entered this room, young and dreaming of glory.

The Book of Brothers waited for her on the large table occupying the majority of the floor. A collection of shields and swords hung above a cabinet, but other than that the furniture in the room was scarce. The sight of the book on the table left Brienne so dazed that it took her a few moments to realise that she was not alone.

Aman stood by the ornate cabinet and he was dressed in armour with a raven sigil on, similar to Brienne's; Brienne wondered if Tyrion was wanting to put this knight forward as a candidate to join the Kingsguard.

'Oh. Forgive me, Ser Brienne,' the knight said at once. 'I was here at Lord Tyrion's request, to prepare the room…'

Brienne bowed her head politely. 'That's quite all right, thank you.'

'I'll leave you now. Would you like me to remove this?'

He was indicating a stone lion figurine standing on top of the cabinet. Brienne looked at it for a moment, and felt a lump rise to her throat as she recognised it from Jaime's tent at Riverrun.

'No, leave it there please,' Brienne replied.

The knight looked confused. 'But…it's a Lannister-'

'The Hand of the King is a Lannister, is he not?' Brienne pointed out with raised eyebrows, and the knight fell awkwardly silent. 'This belonged to Ser Jaime. I would like it kept in here.'

'As you wish, Ser Brienne.'

The knight nodded and then retreated from the room, leaving Brienne alone with nothing but the White Book staring up at her. She could remember distinctly how she'd felt on that day she'd first clapped eyes on that book, when Jaime had given her Oathkeeper. She'd wanted to capture that feeling and make it last forever. She'd felt valued and cared for and even happy, an emotion she hadn't been remotely familiar with at the time. But moments like those didn't last forever, no matter how hard she had tried. And yet they still lived on inside her heart, and she knew they always would. She would forever see him, and their time together, in her words and in everything she did.

'It's the duty of the Lord Commander to fill those pages.'

Brienne sat down heavily at the table and stared down at the book that held so much meaning for her. She thought of how Jaime would have pored through the pages, reading the entries of his heroic predecessors that had influenced him since he'd been a young boy, and how he had pined for his own entry to be completed. She remembered how bitter he had been about the conspicuously bare pages beneath his name, how he'd truly believed that there was no good deed to remember him by, nothing worth recording.

Opening the large, heavy book, Brienne slowly began to flicker through the pages, glancing in interest at the entries of the famous Lord Commanders of the past…Ser Duncan the Tall…Ser Arthur Dayne…Ser Barristan Selmy…

The sight of Jaime Lannister's name on the last page cut her short. His entry was brief and unfinished. Brienne felt her heart sink as she read the last few sentences:

At the sack of King's Landing, murdered his King, Aerys the Second, at the foot of the Iron Throne.

Thereafter known as the Kingslayer.

After the murder of King Joffrey I by Tyrion Lannister served under King Tommen I.

Brienne swallowed uncomfortably as she gazed down at the words, trying desperately not to let herself to succumb to tears.

She couldn't let him be forgotten from the world or fade away. She couldn't let him disappear. He may have felt that he deserved that, but he didn't, not at all. He had been too consumed by self-loathing to recognise that he had been good and honourable, but Brienne knew the truth…and despite him having left her alone in the cold and dark at Winterfell, the everlasting love she felt for him meant more to her than that.

Jaime's story had been left unfinished on these pages. But Brienne could tell his story. Brienne could tell the world what kind of man he had really been.

And so Brienne picked up the quill on the table, dipped it in ink and began to write.

 * * *

'If I told you to leave the capital right now and find Sansa, if I told you to find that murderous little bitch and bring me her head, would you do it?'

Cersei's words from a few nights ago were ringing in Jaime's ears as he covered the new suit of armour with a sheet, ready for the big reveal. He felt rather nervous, though it was nothing to do with Cersei's taunts plaguing his mind.

'You made a sacred vow to the enemy…'

Cersei couldn't understand the change in him, and quite frankly, neither could Jaime. He had pushed one of the Stark children out of a window without hesitation or a second thought, and now he was simply refusing his sister's desire to hunt down another innocent Stark child. And it was all because of Brienne of Tarth.

There was then a tap at the door and Jaime looked up. Brienne herself stood there in the doorway, right on time, wearing a long blue skirt, boots and a brown tunic and belt, buttoned up right to the top of her neck to try and cover up her scars from the bear. Her expression and body language were even more awkward than usual.

'You asked to see me, Ser Jaime,' she said, stepping into the room tentatively with her hands behind her back.

'Lady Brienne,' Jaime greeted warmly. 'How are you?'

'I'm well. And you?'

'I…' He trailed off; there was no straightforward answer to that. 'I owe you an apology.'

'You may have to specify what for.'

Her lips had twitched slightly; had that been a joke? From Brienne?

A bemused smile flickered momentarily on Jaime's lips before disappearing just as quickly. 'For my sister,' he replied heavily. 'Her behaviour towards you the other day in my quarters was inexcusable.'

'On the contrary, my being there in the first place was inexcusable,' Brienne said, looking rather uncomfortable as she avoided his eye contact. 'It won't happen again, I assure you, I just forgot my place. Forgive me.'

But Jaime was frowning. 'There's…nothing to forgive. You were supporting me after Joffrey's death. You're the only one who's done that,' he said quietly.

Brienne met his gaze, and was saddened by the loneliness in his expression. She wondered if sometimes he felt just as alienated in this castle and this city as she did.

Jaime cleared his throat awkwardly as he looked away. 'I thought you might be interested to come here, to see…part of what being Lord Commander's all about,' he said, and he indicated a large book in the centre of the round table. 'That over there is the Book of Brothers.'

'I've heard of this…it's also called the White Book, I believe?' Brienne said as she walked over, intrigued.

'Correct.'

'May I…have a look?' she asked tentatively.

'Of course, please. Read as much as you like.'

Brienne opened the book and turned over the pages, fascinated by the records of everyone who had ever served in the three-hundred-year history of the Kingsguard. She raised her eyebrows in interest when she finally came across Jaime's name.

'Here's your entry.'

But Jaime's face had fallen. 'It's not that impressive, believe me,' he muttered, as he walked slowly around the table.

Brienne leant over the table and began to read aloud, '"Ser Jaime Lannister. Knighted and named to the Kingsguard in his 16th year. At the sack of King's Landing, murdered his king Aerys II. Pardoned by Robert Baratheon. Thereafter known as the Kingslayer."'

She slowly looked up, frowning at this pitiful entry. Was that all there was? A legacy as being 'the Kingslayer' and nothing more? Nothing about how in killing Aerys, he had saved everyone in the capital? It was shameful.

'It's the duty of the Lord Commander to fill those pages,' Jaime said in a low voice, and he turned slowly to a sword on the cabinet behind him. 'And there's still room left on mine.'

Brienne watched as he walked up to the sword his father had gifted him with and grasped his hand tightly around the hilt, hesitating for a moment before picking it up and holding it out to the sunlight streaming in through the window. He twirled it around in his good hand, admiring its beauty, and glanced up at Brienne. As he'd hoped, she was looking at the sword with interest; she could already tell that this wasn't just an ordinary sword. Walking over to her, Jaime awkwardly tried to balance the sword against his forearm, the steel clattering slightly against his golden hand, and he held the sword out for her. Brienne raised her eyebrows at him, surprised, but he gave her an encouraging nod; she reached out for the hilt. Jaime's fingers accidentally brushed against hers, and they both tried furiously to ignore the spark that had been lit at their touch as Brienne took the sword carefully from him and examined it, awestruck.

The sharp steel was immaculate and shone so bright that it almost blinded her. The ornate hilt was of a glimmering gold and decorated in sparkling red rubies. It was the most dazzling sword she had even seen, and Brienne could tell just with a glance that it would be hard to fail with such a weapon. How lucky it must be to be the Lord Commander and be able to wield such an impressive sword.

'Valyrian steel,' she said softly, impressed, and she looked up at Jaime, a small smile on her lips that Jaime wasn't accustomed to seeing.

'Mmm,' Jaime murmured.

Brienne tilted the sword in her hands slightly, testing its weight and balance. Watching her with it now, glistening in her hands, Jaime had never felt more sure of what he was about to do.

He looked up at her. 'It's yours.'

Brienne looked up at him in alarm. 'I can't accept-' she protested at once, but Jaime interrupted her gently.

'It was reforged from Ned Stark's sword. You'll use it to defend Ned Stark's daughter,' Jaime said firmly.

Brienne could do nothing but stare at him with wide eyes, her lips parted in shock. She could hardly believe it. Was this some sort of prank? A cruel joke he was playing on her? But then she saw the tender look in his eyes and felt the Valyrian steel sword in her hands, and knew that it couldn't be. She glanced back down at the sword, stunned.

A small smile flickered briefly on Jaime's lips as he looked at her dazed expression. 'You swore an oath to return the Stark girls to their mother. Lady Stark's dead. Arya's probably dead too, but there's still a chance to find Sansa and get her somewhere safe,' he said earnestly, and to his relief Brienne nodded.

Even after Sansa was suspected of killing his own son, Jaime wanted Brienne to uphold her – no, their – promise to Catelyn Stark…even if it meant going directly against Cersei.

Brienne still couldn't believe it.

Who is this man? And why does he make me feel this way?

She wondered when this feeling had started. She wondered how it could be possible that the Kingslayer had managed to touch her heart this way. But of course…he wasn't the Kingslayer anymore, at least not in her eyes. He was a lonely troubled man, a man who cared deep down, a man that somehow made her glow with warmth inside, a man who she needed just as much as he needed her. And yet he was sending her away.

Jaime looked over her shoulder and exhaled nervously. 'I've got something else for you,' he said, trying to keep a cool head as he walked past her towards the suit of armour, concealed by the long sheet.

Brienne turned to watch him, confused, as Jaime hesitated, as if afraid to remove the cover, as if he was bracing himself. He hadn't realised just how much it mattered to him that she liked the armour he had designed for her. Swallowing, he then removed the sheet. Brienne stepped forward, her mouth open, as she took in the sight of the new suit of armour before her.

The armour was a luscious dark silver steel, tinted with a hint of blue, and it looked less bulky than any other armour she'd seen; indeed, it almost had a woman's shape to it. It would fit her nicely. Perfectly, even. She walked over to it, speechless, and felt the armour; it was tough…and expensive.

'I hope I got your measurements right,' Jaime said in a low, gentle voice, making Brienne blink rapidly.

He watched her carefully as she surveyed the armour. She wasn't smiling, and her eyes weren't alight with joy, and yet Jaime knew her well enough to know that her speechlessness and the dazed look in her eyes meant that she was pleased. He hoped that she knew, from the armour and sword, just how much he appreciated her, how much he wanted to make amends, how much he knew her and what she wanted.

Brienne didn't know what to say. She couldn't even find the words to say thank you. The incredibly rare and valuable sword…the exquisite armour…all the accoutrements of knighthood…it overwhelmed her. She took a slight step back, her mouth still open, her heart fluttering as she found herself unable to meet Jaime's gaze; if she looked at him, she might crumble, either with gratitude for all he had done or with sadness that their time together was almost at an end. Inspired by the sight of the new armour, Brienne then eventually spoke up.

'I'll find her. For Lady Catelyn,' she said firmly.

A slight smile fell on Jaime's face as he looked at her, proud. He admired how determined she sounded. He had every faith in her that she would do all in her power to find Sansa, even if it was, as he suspected, a hopeless cause. Brienne glanced at him, though not quite directly at his eyes, and Jaime could see that she was unbelievably nervous, quite unlike her usual self. She swallowed, wondering whether she could find the courage to say the words.

'And for you,' Brienne said eventually, blinking rapidly.

Jaime gazed at her for a moment that seemed like a lifetime, holding back a myriad of emotions threatening to burst from within him as Brienne nervously kept her eyes on the armour. There had been a few rare moments during their time together where Jaime had barely been able to believe that Brienne existed, that he was lucky enough to have encountered her when he had, and this was one of those moments. Brienne understood better than anyone that finding Sansa, an innocent child caught up in this war, was Jaime's last chance at recovering some shred of honour. Brienne was doing this for him just as much as she was for her oath to Lady Catelyn, and it meant more to him than he could ever let her know. Though he wasn't sure if it was her words that struck him more or the way she had said them.

He could see how nervous she was. He could practically hear the way her heart thudded erratically against her chest, just like his. Could it be possible? Could someone like her really develop affectionate feelings for someone like him? Could she care for him?

No, it can't be. I'm just being silly.

But he couldn't ignore it. Brienne had never looked at him that way before, as if she were one of the nervous lovestruck girls who had once frequently approached him in the capital. Even during those brief tender moments on the road back from Harrenhal, when he and Brienne had been forced to be close on those evenings where the romantic setting of the woodland and the moonlight and the river had made them behave quite unlike themselves, Brienne hadn't looked at him – or rather, looked at anywhere but his eyes – quite like she was doing now.

Jaime looked down in surprise, unsure of what to say or do. He had let this strange relationship between them get too complicated, and now he was left with the pain of being forced to make her leave his life. He couldn't deny to himself how her departure would leave a hole in his heart – though he wasn't quite sure what form that hole took. He didn't know what he would do without her anymore.

He opened his lips to speak, though it felt like a struggle for him to get their conversation back in order. 'I almost forgot,' Jaime said quietly in a low, strained voice, and he swallowed. 'I have one more gift.'

Brienne blinked, relieved that the danger of her blushing seemed to have passed. 'You do?' she said, astonished.

'Hmm,' Jaime replied, smiling as he turned to face the bright blue sky outside the window. 'But err…it'll be a surprise for when you leave later.'

Brienne's chin quivered slightly, though Jaime pretended not to notice. 'As in…later today?' she asked.

Jaime sighed heavily as he walked over to look out of the window and survey the bustling city down below; Brienne followed and stood beside him. He wanted her to leave the city as soon as possible, and for good. It felt like the one person she had ever let in anywhere near her heart was dismissing her. Jaime glanced at her forlorn face, frowning. He could see how hurt she was, and he was frustrated; did she not comprehend what he was risking for her, or how much this was hurting him as well?

He slowly moved his hand as if to hold hers but then thought better of it and let it hang limply to the side instead; Brienne noticed and felt a lump rise to her throat.

'The sooner you leave, the better chance you have at finding Sansa,' Jaime murmured.

Brienne nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on the warm lively city before them. 'I see. You're right, of course.'

Jaime smiled; upon first meeting Brienne, he'd never would have thought she would speak those words to him. 'Take this.'

He reached into the pocket of his brown jacket and pulled out a big fat purse filled with coins. He placed it in Brienne's hands before she'd even had time to register what was happening, and she looked shocked as the weight of the purse filled her hand; she'd doubted she'd ever held this amount of money in her life.

'Ser Jaime-'

'Take it,' Jaime cut over her firmly. 'You'll need it. Find inns, with good food and good beds. You and I know better than most how dangerous the kingsroad can be. I won't have you go hungry or exhausted every night.'

Accepting defeat, Brienne took the purse. 'We…won't be able to keep in touch, will we?' she then asked in a small voice.

Jaime hesitated for a moment, then sighed. 'No, I'm afraid not. If it's any consolation, I don't…want you to leave,' he said, glancing awkwardly at her as he struggled to say the words. 'I've grown used to your presence here, and I don't mind admitting it. But it's not safe for you here, not anymore.'

They both knew what he meant by that. It was a subject Brienne had wanted to avoid, but she felt she couldn't any longer.

'Cersei believes Sansa helped Tyrion in murdering Joffrey, doesn't she?' Brienne said anxiously.

Jaime nodded heavily. 'She does.'

'What will she do if she finds out about this? She'll want Sansa captured and imprisoned-'

'She'll want much worse than that, believe me. And that's why I think it's worth the risk, whatever the consequences if Cersei finds out. And you're the only one I trust to see this through,' Jaime said, fixing her with that intense gaze of his, and Brienne swallowed nervously, dazed.

'Thank you, Ser Jaime,' she said softly. 'For everything.'

Jaime gazed back at her for a moment then looked away abruptly, flustered. 'Don't thank me yet,' he muttered. 'The armour might not fit you, I'm not sure if it's big enough.'

Brienne rolled her eyes; there he went again, always relying on the snide quips and insults to recover himself whenever a conversation of theirs strayed too far beyond the realms of ordinary friendship. It amused her how he didn't understand that she could see right through that act now.

Once they had made arrangements to meet later, Jaime left Brienne in the room to process what was happening and collect her belongings – and also to change into her new stunning suit of armour. The moment he'd left and shut the door behind him, Brienne found a chair in the corner and with a slight stumble slowly sank down, though she was so dazed and out of focus that she almost fell into it.

Oh, my.

She wondered if Jaime had any idea what all this meant to her. The sword, the armour, the mission…all of it. Probably not.

Meanwhile out in the corridor, Jaime had hesitated outside the door, wanting to go back and say the words that could never be unsaid or forgotten.

Take me with you.

But it was no use. He had no choice in the matter. His obligation was here, with his family, as it always was and always would be. He needed to support Tyrion through the upcoming weeks. He needed to try and control his sister and father, and stop them from destroying their family and kingdom.

And above all, no matter how much he wanted to go with Brienne, Cersei was the one who needed him the most. Their firstborn was dead, and she was almost broken by grief. Jaime felt bad that he wasn't. It was a terrible truth to admit, but the boy had never meant much to him. He'd felt little when he'd watched Joffrey perish. All he could remember of that terrible day was his urge to comfort Cersei, who had been howling and screaming at the guards to arrest their brother. He could also remember the way Brienne had rushed to them to help, the way she had raised her voice to try and calm the screaming, crying crowds, the way her hand had clutched Jaime's shoulder as if in sympathy.

'You need to get out of here,' he had said to Brienne, while Cersei had been too busy wailing and shrieking both in anguish and anger to notice her presence. 'Lay low for a while, stay in your room, it's not safe.'

'But Ser Jaime-'

'Now, Brienne-'

'But are you all right?' Brienne had asked urgently, her face turn in anguish.

He'd frozen then. He hadn't even thought about that. Jaime wasn't used to such a question being put to him.

'I have to be,' he'd replied in a strangled voice. 'For Cersei.'

Cersei. It was always about Cersei. The thought made him irritable now, when before it had once made him proud.

But what he was doing today was one thing he could do that wasn't about satisfying Cersei's greedy, power-hungry, revengeful needs. This was something he could do for Brienne. He wasn't a huge fan of the Starks – after all, how could he be when they were the enemy? – but getting Brienne away to safety, on a mission that would help fulfil her oath and save the life of an innocent girl who had endured enough here in this ghastly city, was the right thing for her. All he had to do now was say goodbye to Brienne and let her go. How hard could that be?

* * *

~ Present Day ~

Brienne paused as she looked over the words she'd written, her quill poised and ready.

Captured in the field at the Whispering Wood.

Set free by Lady Catelyn Stark in return for an oath to find and guard her two daughters.

Lost his hand protecting the honor of Ser Brienne of Tarth, whom he later armed and armoured in order to send her away to safety and to fulfil their oath to Lady Stark to find her daughters. Later made Brienne of Tarth the first woman Knight of the Seven Kingdoms.

Took Riverrun from the Tully Rebels, without loss of life.

Lured the Unsullied into attacking Casterly Rock, sacrificing his childhood home in service to a greater strategy.

Outwitted the Targaryen forces to seize Highgarden. Fought at the Battle of the Goldroad bravely, narrowly escaping death by dragonfire.

Pledged himself to the forces of men and rode North to join them at Winterfell, alone.

Brienne thought hard, struggling, as her chin quivered. She wanted so desperately to praise his actions, right up until the very end, but it was hard when those actions had broken her heart so deeply. Jaime's final choice had been a tragic one in which he had fallen victim to his darkest demons, and she didn't want herself or Westeros to remember him in that way. He had been a good man in the end, who had done many great deeds. She knew why he had gone back for Cersei, and she accepted it now, enough for her to express her love for him in the pages of this book. She may not have been able to save him from his self-destruction or Cersei or the dangers of King's Landing during Daenerys' slaughter, but she could at least save him from the judgement the world had for him. She could ensure that history would know the best parts of Jaime Lannister.

Swallowing, Brienne then bent down to write:

Faced the Army of the Dead, and defended the castle against impossible odds until the defeat of the Night King. Escaped imprisonment and rode south in an attempt to save the capital from destruction.

Devastated as she was to recount these events, Brienne found it strangely therapeutic to write them down. She didn't regret what she and Jaime had had together, not for one moment. The bitterness and anger had subsided, and as she fought back tears while she wrote, she found herself overcome with nostalgia and love for the memory of this broken, wholesome man whom she had known better than anyone else. With all his many complications and flaws and immoral deeds of his dark past, Jaime had been brave and caring, and had been driven by honour and love. And no one had come close to loving Jaime as much as Brienne had, and still did now.

Her face torn in anguish, Brienne then wrote the final sentence in Jaime's entry:

Died protecting his Queen.

A lump rose in Brienne's throat as she stared down at the final words, her lip trembling, and she bit her tongue to stop the tears. Her fingers shook slightly as she held onto the quill and raised her tear-filled eyes to the ceiling, taking a moment while the ink dried to think about the man she had once hated before falling irrevocably in love with him.

She thought of what would have happened in their relationship if they had stayed together, if he were still alive. She imagined what they could have become. Would they have gotten married? Would they have had children? Would they have lived here, in King's Landing, or perhaps Tarth, or somewhere else entirely? She would never know, but it was strangely nice to sometimes fantasize about it.

She wondered what Jaime would have thought of the words she had written in the White Book about him, if he would have been grateful or exasperated. Brienne knew that Jaime's greatest wish had been to be an honourable man. Jaime had granted her wish of a knighthood, so it seemed only fitting that she had given him the one thing he had secretly desired the most – to be remembered as a good man. The sad thing was, Jaime would never know that Brienne had finished his page and written all the good deeds he had done. Though perhaps he did, if life after death were possible. Brienne wasn't sure what she believed anymore, but she did hope that was the case. It would explain why she could still feel a part of him, even here in this very room beside her, glowing from within her heart.

Sighing, Brienne caressed her fingers over Jaime's pages, gazing down at them tenderly, before collecting herself and closing the White Book firmly. She would write her own entry later – for now, her duty was done, and she had somewhere important to be.

Right on cue, Pod appeared in the open doorway just as Brienne rose from her seat. He looked splendid in his golden armour, like a proper knight. He had grown so much from the adolescent boy Jaime had first presented her with. Pod slowly walked into the room, glancing from Brienne to the White Book.

'Are you all right, milady?' he asked softly.

'Actually I am,' Brienne replied.

She felt surprised to say it, but it was true. She felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, like she had been cleansed for having written Jaime's story down. Pod gave her an encouraging smile and reached out for her hand; she took it and squeezed it. The clunky armour got in the way slightly, but the gesture was felt deeply all the same. Smiling gratefully at him, Brienne then let go and took a deep breath.

'Is it time?' she asked.

'It is.'

Brienne smiled. 'Then let us fetch our King, Ser Podrick.'

The two friends then left the room, filled with anticipation for attending their very first small council meeting. Brienne looked back and cast one final glance at the White Book before shutting the door, satisfied with her work. She had ensured that the people of the realm would remember Jaime's accomplishments and that was something she knew that Jaime would have been grateful for, had he been here. Indeed, it gave her hope that perhaps, instead of being forever known as the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister would one day be remembered as the Oathkeeper she had always known him to be.

Chapter Text

Grief was a strange thing. It came and went in waves as the weeks passed, and in her daydreams Brienne still often dwelled on what might have been, if only to soften the ache when she returned to reality. Some days, Brienne would feel almost completely fine, and would think of Jaime in a positive light, remembering the good times they'd had together. It had been true love, it had been good. But that love had been lost and it was well and truly over; she was only just beginning to truly accept that. And so there were other days where Brienne would sink into the depths of despair, which would only make her more angry with herself for succumbing to such emotions after all this time. In another life, perhaps she would have been able to make him stay with her. Alas, she had failed, and months had already passed since the night he'd left her in that courtyard.

At least she had been able to grant herself a little bit of closure by finishing Jaime's entry in the Book of Brothers, and was now left with the comfort of her role as Lady Commander, protecting Lady Stark's child and sitting on his small council, with her faithful companion Pod serving alongside her. Even her friendship with Tyrion had grown somewhat, though Brienne sometimes found it painful to look at him when he paid her a visit outside of their small council meetings, as it made her think back to drunken, jolly nights full of laughter in Winterfell's great hall.

One afternoon when Tyrion came knocking on her study door, he found Brienne concentrating on a letter she was writing at a desk. He was aware that she corresponded regularly with Lady Sansa so that they could keep each other updated on one another's wellbeing and the state of the separate kingdoms in which they lived, but Tyrion was anxious for her to finish quickly; he was excited to tell her of the discussion he had recently had with King Bran.

'Ser Brienne, I have good news,' Tyrion said brightly, when Brienne looked up from her desk, and she raised her eyebrows.

'Good news?' What a strange concept.

'King Bran has agreed that the new Kingsguard will be allowed to take wives – or, in your case, a husband – and have children,' Tyrion announced, positively bouncing on his feet. 'You will not be deprived of your rights, Ser Brienne. You will be free to marry and start a family, to carry on the Tarth legacy.'

Brienne's lips parted, and all she found she could manage to say was, 'Oh.'

Her hand began to shake slightly as she put down her quill, the letter to Sansa still unfinished. She hadn't once thought about that side of things when she'd accepted the appointment as Lady Commander; those restrictions of being a member of the Kingsguard had had no reason to bother her anymore. But now those rules had been changed…and she didn't know what to think.

'I won't do it…not until we get things settled…'…'Have you ever wanted children, Brienne?'…'I saw Tarth once, on my way to Dorne…I was thinking it's probably worth another visit…Perhaps, when all this is over, we could go together.'…'You told me once that you never wanted a husband…Do you still stand by that now?' …'I want to ask you properly…but planning to spend the rest of our lives together can only start once the war is over…'

It was still Jaime. It would always be Jaime.

Brienne blinked rapidly, but thankfully no tears came. It took her a few moments to remember that Tyrion was stood in front of her desk, watching her. His face had fallen.

'I thought you would be pleased,' he said quietly, disappointed.

Brienne sighed. 'I should be. I am, for the Kingsguard,' she replied earnestly. 'It's a progressive change, a most welcome one, and I thank King Bran for it. And you, as I suspect you influenced this turn of events.'

Tyrion tilted his head smugly as he took a seat opposite her.

'I just…I never thought I would marry or have children. Until…until Jaime…brought it up once,' Brienne said, exhaling deeply; she hadn't been prepared to speak of this for quite some time yet. 'I could only ever picture doing that with him. I can still only picture him.'

'And he'll still be in that picture, for a very long time,' Tyrion said softly, a sympathetic look on his face. 'But…in a few years, perhaps there will be someone new to fill that gap in the picture.'

Brienne scoffed. 'Someone new?' she said sceptically. 'Jaime was the only man who saw me for who I was. The only man who saw me as a woman.'

'I know for a fact that isn't true,' Tyrion said gently.

Brienne's eyes flashed dangerously. 'If you're talking about Tormund-'

'I'm talking about everyone!' Tyrion said exasperatedly, and he sounded almost annoyed with her. 'Everyone who knows you, everyone who adores you. Because that's quite a number of people, my lady, a lot more than you allow.'

There was a short pause. Brienne was rather stunned by his words.

'I appreciate that. I do,' she said sincerely, but Tyrion looked doubtful.

'As long as you believe me.'

There was another silence as the two of them looked thoughtfully down at the parchment on Brienne's desk. Tyrion wondered what Brienne was writing to Sansa. Was she telling her what it was like here? Was she writing that King's Landing was a hopeless cause, that it was pointless trying to rebuild the city to its former glory? Was she writing that she was desperately unhappy here, that she longed to return to Winterfell? Did she mention how Pod pined after the Lady of Winterfell and thought longingly of her day and night, hoping that they would one day meet again? Or was Brienne only writing good things? It was hard to tell. She was a woman of mystery, always eager to keep her guard up and her emotions in check, just as Jaime had once told Tyrion. He wondered if that mystery and intrigue was what had first attracted Jaime to her.

'May I ask something?' Brienne then said, breaking Tyrion out of his reverie.

'Of course. Anything.'

'What did you decide to do with Jaime's ashes, in the end?'

Tyrion looked rather awkward. 'I didn't. They're…in my chambers, at the minute. In an urn, don't worry. Quite macabre, now I think of it,' he said, frowning. 'I'd like them to be scattered somewhere that meant something to him.'

'If only there was such a place,' Brienne murmured.

Tyrion gave her a brief, sad smile, then hopped off his seat. 'I'll leave you now. Forgive me for interrupting.'

Brienne opened her mouth to say something, perhaps to apologise for her ungrateful reaction earlier, but Tyrion had already left the room and closed the door behind him before she could think of the words. Sighing bitterly, Brienne slumped against her seat, abandoning the letter for now as her head ached with the effort of trying to cast aside the words she still dreamed about at night.

'I want this to be proper. So will you wait?'

'You know I will. I'd wait however many days, months, years you'd ask me to.'

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get Jaime out of her head. Every time she closed her eyes, there he was. And she was tired of it. She was tired of the constant misery and emptiness. She was tired of every day just passing by. She was tired of not being able to live her life.

'Whatever I am, whatever is left of me…I'm yours, Brienne. Heart, body and soul. I'm yours.'

Brienne's bottom lip trembled as she pictured his face before her, cupping her cheeks with his gloved hands as they stood by the frozen pond in the Godswood. The details of his face weren't as clear in her mind as they had been a month ago. How many lines had he had around his eyes? Where had the grey flecks in his beard ended? Where exactly had the crinkles appeared whenever he'd smiled so tenderly at her? Would these little details keep growing less and less vivid in her memory as time went on? Or would Brienne have to fight for them and force herself to think of them every day to keep them alive and so very real? The guilt and dread Brienne felt at this fearful notion often consumed her so much that she would sometimes forget that she was still in mourning for Jaime, that her heart ached in misery and sorrow. She wondered if that was a good thing, or just something else to feel conflicted about. Brienne had never known grief like this before. She wondered if it would ever end, or if she would just grow used to it. She suspected the latter.

Meanwhile, a few floors below in the castle, Tyrion was manoeuvring his way around all the builders to locate his former squire. He found him surprisingly easily, stood in the doorway to the great hall and looking around in awe as he watched the builders do their handiwork.

'Ser Podrick,' Tyrion greeted him, and Pod straightened up at once in his shiny gold armour. 'You mentioned to me a few weeks ago that my brother had given you a letter for Ser Brienne.'

'Y-yes he did, milord,' Pod replied, though he looked rather uncomfortable. 'He said only to give it to her once she'd recovered, but…I'm not sure if she's quite there yet.'

Tyrion sighed, deep in thought. 'Perhaps not. But I think now's a good time as any. It might help her recover,' he said.

Pod nodded in understanding. 'It's in my chambers. I'll give it to her later, after supper.'

'Good man,' Tyrion said, reaching up to pat Pod's arm and wincing; he kept forgetting how tough that armour was. 'Thank you, Pod.'

The sky was cloudless and peaceful that evening, so Pod knew where to find Brienne; she liked to spend her time on the balcony of the Lord Commander's – or rather, Lady Commander's – apartments to look up at the stars and listen to the sea before retiring to bed. Sure enough, he came to a halt in the open doorway to find Brienne sat out there on the balcony in her tunic and breeches – an unusual sight nowadays, for she had gone back to her old routine of wearing only her armour in front of everyone – with her head inclined towards the full moon that shone brightly down upon the city. She looked peaceful sat there. Pod hesitated slightly, his fingers twitching against the sealed scroll clutched tightly in his hand, but then forced himself to take a step forward.

He cleared his throat. 'Err…milady?' he said tentatively, knocking on the open door.

Brienne rose to her feet, surprised, and tilted her head at him as she beckoned him over. 'Pod. Please just call me Brienne,' she said exasperatedly as Pod joined her on the balcony. 'After everything you and I have been through, I…no more 'milady's or 'Ser's, do you understand? Not when we're alone, at least.'

'Understood, mi- Brienne,' Pod said hastily, giving her a sheepish smile.

'What is it?' Brienne asked.

Pod grimaced. 'I…I'm not quite sure where to begin. It's about…Ser Jaime,' he said awkwardly.

Brienne's lips twitched momentarily but other than that her face betrayed no hint of pain at the unexpected sound of his name. 'What about him?'

'On his last day in Winterfell, he gave me a letter for…for if he were ever to die in the war,' Pod replied, and Brienne frowned, confused.

'A letter?'

'Yes, for you,' Pod said, and Brienne's lips parted in shock, her chin quivering. 'He asked me to wait a few months before I gave it to you, so you'd be less…angry? I think he was worried you'd hate him.'

Inexplicably, Brienne let out a bizarre sceptical noise that sounded almost like a laugh. 'He wrote me a bloody letter and you've been keeping hold of it all this time?' she demanded.

To Pod's relief, she didn't look too irritated. 'He didn't want me to give it to you until you were ready,' he explained apologetically.

'Oh, Pod,' Brienne said, sighing heavily. 'I'm not sure if I'll ever be ready. But I'd like to see it.'

Pod nodded and reached for the sealed scroll in his pocket; he pulled it out and handed it over to her. Brienne's heart thundered as she reached out and it took her a moment to realise that she couldn't take it.

He wrote these words when he knew he was going to leave me. These are the last words he wanted me to remember him by. This is his goodbye.

Brienne let out a shuddering breath. 'I…I'm not sure if I can…'

But she trailed off as Pod gently made the decision for her and placed the scroll in her hand; he placed her other hand over the letter, keeping it there, and gave her a reassuring smile.

Brienne swallowed. 'Thank you,' she whispered, clutching the letter tightly.

Pod let go, his brow creased. 'I'm…I'm sorry.'

'Whatever for?' Brienne asked, frowning.

'I should have stopped him that day,' Pod said, his expression torn, and it was clear from his tone that he had been bursting to say this for quite some time. 'I should have come to you and warned you, I should have-'

'You made a promise to him. And you kept it,' Brienne interrupted firmly, and there was a warmth in her gaze as she looked at him. 'That was the right thing to do, even if it had been wrong of him to ask it of you. I'm grateful for how good you were to him, Pod. And to me. And with that in mind…there's something I'd like to give you in return.'

Pod frowned as he followed her away from the balcony and into her main bedchambers. It was only when Brienne pulled down Widow's Wail from its stand that he understood.

'I can't accept this, milady,' he said in shock, backing away as if in fear, 'you've already done enough for me-'

'Ser Podrick,' Brienne cut over him sternly, and he froze. 'We both know I have no need for a second Valyrian steel sword. I already have one, Oathkeeper, and it has served me very well these years. And I suspect Ser Jaime knew when he left this sword behind that I would feel that way. And he also knew I understood his desire for these swords to be kept not too far apart from one another. These weapons were never just about the steel or the strength or the gold…they held sentimental value, for both of us. Which is why I would like to give this to you. I know Ser Jaime would approve.'

A lump rose in Pod's throat; her words had almost brought him to tears. 'Jaime,' he said in a small voice.

'I'm sorry?'

Pod smiled sadly. 'Y-you don't have to call him 'Ser' in front of me, milady.'

Brienne's face fell slightly. She'd almost forgotten up until that moment just how close Pod and Jaime had become during that month in Winterfell. He had been grieving for Jaime as well. Of course he had.

'You're right,' she said, and her voice broke slightly. 'I'm sorry.'

'There's nothing to apologise for,' he reassured her, and when she held out Widow's Wail nearer to him, this time he took it. 'Thank you, Brienne.'

'Use it well,' Brienne said, and she felt herself smile as Pod admired his new sword with a giddy expression on his face. 'I have no doubt you will.'

Pod beamed at her, but then his face fell in concern as he glanced at the scroll in her hands. 'Would you like me to stay, or would you rather be alone?' he asked.

'Alone, I think,' Brienne replied, 'but thank you, Pod.'

Pod nodded and began to back away towards the door with Widow's Wail. 'I'll say goodnight then. I hope you're all right.'

'I will be,' Brienne reassured him gratefully. 'Goodnight.'

The moment he'd closed the door behind him, Brienne clasped her hand to her chest, stunned by how a simple piece of parchment could make her heart race so incredibly fast. She placed the scroll down on the table where a candle was already lit and sat down as she undid the seal with trembling fingers. She hesitated slightly before unravelling the scroll and spreading out the parchment before her, letting out a small intake of breath as she recognised Jaime's clumsy handwriting instantly. She caressed the parchment slowly with her hand, just as Jaime had done that day before sealing it up, and took a deep breath as she glanced at the top of the letter.

My dearest, Brienne…

Brienne looked away, unable to cope. How could she put herself through this, after all this time? Would it re-open the wound that only just slowly begun to heal? She didn't want to go back to the place where it was cold, empty, and numb. She had let the darkness consume her for too long already.

But perhaps this letter will show me the light. He wanted me to read it. He wrote this for me.

Exhaling deeply, Brienne then looked back at the parchment. Beginning to read, she blinked away tears as she cast her mind back to that painful night when Jaime had left and her world had fallen apart, and her mind flooded with the memory of their parting words of farewell…

* * *

'She's hateful. And so am I.'

The horse rode off fast and hard, the tears freezing on Jaime's cheeks as he gripped the reins tightly with his one good hand and rushed through the open gates, running away from the echo of Brienne's sobs of anguish. He didn't look back. He couldn't look back.

'Stay here. Stay with me.'

His chest began to tighten as he rode away, his vision getting blurrier. He tried to breathe normally as he sped on, but it felt like his throat was constricting.

'Please.'

Were Brienne's howls of despair still audible, or was the terrible sound just ringing in his ears? Jaime wasn't sure. All he knew was that he couldn't go on.

A heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, Jaime slowed the horse down to a steady trot as he gazed up at the starry night sky, his face torn in agony, his eyes burning with tears. He couldn't leave her like that. He'd wanted to make this easier for her so that she would be able to move on, so that if he died it wouldn't matter, but this was the complete opposite of easy. He'd abandoned her in the dark and cold, crying in the snow in her bedrobe thinking that he didn't love her or even care. How could he do that to her? How?

He came to a halt and exhaled shakily, wiping away his tears. 'Oh, fuck,' he whispered, his voice strangled as he closed his eyes against the frosty night air.

Before he knew it, Jaime had turned the horse around and was riding back towards the castle he had grown to love. When he reached the gates, he was relieved to see that Brienne was still outside in the courtyard, though she had turned away and was slowly walking back towards the door. The moment she heard his horse approach, Brienne spun around, hardly daring to believe it, and her tear-streaked face was a mixture of shock and fury as Jaime's horse came to a stop.

She watched, her lips trembling and her breathing heavy, as Jaime clambered off the horse and stopped for a moment to stare at her; he looked like he had broken down into tears too. Something that sounded like both a sigh and sob escaped his mouth as Jaime then began to approach her. Brienne so dearly wanted to close the distance between them and yet a part of her wanted to shut down and keep her arms folded, her head bent low, her stance unwelcoming. She stayed still as Jaime reached her and she gazed at him wordlessly with tear-filled eyes, her chin quivering.

Jaime looked like he wanted to crumple to the ground as he gazed back at her in turmoil. 'Brienne, I…' he murmured, though he couldn't quite bring himself to meet her eyes as he reached for her hand and took it. 'I'm so sorry, Brienne…I'm so, so sorry.'

Brienne looked like she wanted to both kiss him and slap him. 'You weren't even going to say goodbye,' she said in a small, shaking voice quite unlike her own. 'You were just going to leave me like that.'

Jaime's lips parted as he struggled to find the words. He had never felt more ashamed of himself. He had succumbed to his Lannister legacy and tried escaping in the middle of the night like a coward. He hadn't been able to face dealing with the confrontation…he hadn't wanted to emotionally prepare himself for her protests or her distress, so he had left their bedchambers, as difficult as it had been to do that, and tried to ignore the fact that he was doing the worst thing that anyone had ever done to Brienne. And she had every right for wanting to knock him to the ground and beat him senseless for it.

'I…I thought it would be less painful…' Jaime replied, and Brienne frowned at him incredulously.

'For who?'

'Both of us,' he admitted, his head bowed low as he stroked her fingers with his own.

There was a silence as Brienne stared at him, not quite sure if she recognised him anymore. She slowly released her hand from his gentle grip, and Jaime felt his splintered heart sink.

'You've not changed your mind,' Brienne murmured; she could see it in his eyes.

'No, I haven't.' He hated to say it, but there was no point in lying or giving her false hope.

Brienne took a slight step back from him as a shaky breath escaped her mouth. She had been blinded by the first flush of romantic love. She had been seeing only what she'd wanted to see. All this time Jaime had been using her to heal his own wounds, to distract him from his self-pity and self-loathing, to fill that void brought about by Cersei's absence. She could scarcely believe it to be true, but how else could she explain his inexplicable behaviour right now? It made no sense to her, none at all. It felt like the world was spinning and crashing in around her, and no one was there to catch her fall.

'Then why have you come back? If you're still just going to take off?' she asked in a strained voice

'I have to explain,' Jaime said, almost pleadingly.

'I don't want you to explain, I want you to bloody well stay!' Brienne snapped, her voice full of anguish.

Jaime closed his eyes briefly, trying to stop the tears. 'Brienne, please don't make this any harder than it already is. I…I'm so sorry. I thought I could do this…this life with you…but I can't,' he said helplessly. 'You're too good, and you deserve…so much more. I'm not the man you think I am.'

'And you're not the man you think you are!' Brienne said earnestly, and she grabbed both his arms and shook him. 'Do you want forgiveness for your sins, is that it? Because I'll give it to you!'

But Jaime was shaking his head. 'No. No one can give that to me.'

'You are so much more than the bad deeds of your past, Jaime. You talk of all the things you did for Cersei, but what about the things you did for me?' Brienne demanded.

There was a stunned silence as Jaime met her eyes in shock.

A single tear trickled down Brienne's cheek as she gazed at him fiercely. 'You stopped me from being raped. You lost your sword hand by defending my honour. You jumped into a bear pit with no weapon to save me. You gave up a Valyrian sword and had armour designed for me so I could fulfil my oath, and to protect me and an innocent girl, your enemy, from the capital. You spared everyone at Riverrun, because I asked you to. And you came to Winterfell, to fight for the living. And for me.'

Jaime's lips trembled into an odd sort of sad smile as he briefly brought his hand up to touch Brienne's cheek. He wasn't worthy of her love, even if she did see the good in him, because he knew better; he wasn't worth saving, and he despised all he had done in the name of a toxic love that he no longer wanted. Brienne reached up to keep his hand against her skin as he gently stroked her cheek, wanting to cherish the feel of his touch. She wished she could keep it there. She wished he would never let go.

'It's no use, Brienne,' Jaime murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper as he slowly removed their hands. 'I'm sorry. I have to do this.'

'You're making no sense!' Brienne said loudly, her tone suddenly irate. 'It's like you've been possessed!'

'Perhaps I have,' Jaime mumbled. 'It's an accurate way to describe this…hold she has over me.'

'Then don't let it win! Fight it!' Brienne snapped, furious with him.

'I have fought it!' Jaime replied earnestly. 'I've tried, the gods know I have tried all this time to fight it. But I can't anymore.'

Brienne shook her head desperately at him, open-mouthed. How could he change his mind so abruptly? How could he go from declaring his desire to marry her one day and then deciding instead to run back to his sister a few days later? How could it be so easy for him to snap like that?

'You told me once I saved you from giving up on life,' Brienne said softly, trying not to sound too fearful. 'Let me save you again now.'

'You can't,' Jaime whispered, his voice breaking. 'No one can.'

Brienne stared at him incredulously and then groaned, overcome with frustration. Why couldn't he choose her? Why couldn't he choose the light and the good and happiness? Why must the darkness always consume him in the end?

'I don't understand you,' she said, shaking her head at him in dismay. 'You knew Daenerys was planning to sack the city. For weeks, you knew. What changed?'

Jaime gaped helplessly at her as he tried to justify his denial that had plagued him for the past few weeks. He'd been in his own blissful bubble of harmony and happiness with Brienne…until it had broken yesterday when that raven came and he'd heard the news.

'It never quite…registered with me that Cersei would lose. And most likely be killed,' he said in a small, ashamed voice.

Brienne's face tore up in pain. 'I thought you'd left her,' she murmured.

'I did. But she hasn't left me.'

Jaime closed his eyes as he watched his words resonate with Brienne, and in that moment he wished he'd never turned back around to see her for one last time. This past month, he had been living in a dream…free of Cersei, in love and happy with Brienne…but in truth he had never been free of Cersei, not really. He was addicted to her, despite her emotional abuse of him, and he had been struggling for so long to break it…and now he was met with the crushing disappointment of realising that he never could. Their unconditional bond to each other, as well as the ghosts and sins of his past, would never allow him to.

'All this time…' Brienne whispered, 'these past few weeks when you were with me…were you really with her?'

Jaime's stomach dropped. Heartbroken by her statement, he took a few steps nearer to her but Brienne only backed away, her shaking hands held out to stop him coming any closer.

'No. Gods, no,' Jaime said firmly, his tone and expression full of desperation. 'Don't you see? I don't think of her that way anymore. I don't deny that I loved her once, in the way that I feel for you, but she never was what you are to me and I love her only as a sister now, as I always should have done. But she's not just my family, she's my duty. And I can't just stand by and do nothing. And it's not just about making sure she's safe – she's losing, and when she's vulnerable and in that sort of position…well, I know what happened the last time she was in a similar situation! What if she has more Wildfire planted around the city? She blew up the Sept just to avoid her own trial, and I wasn't there to stop her. But I could stop whatever she might have planned-'

'You're an idiot if you really think you'll be able to make her see reason,' Brienne cut over him coldly. 'She's dangerous! She's not the same person she used to be!'

'I know that,' Jaime said helplessly. 'But I'm the only one who has a chance at getting through to her.'

Brienne shook her head at him in despair, wishing she could just wake up from this nightmare. He had completely given up on himself. And on her.

'Did you always intend to go back to her?' she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

'No, of course not!' Jaime said earnestly, dismayed that she could really think that of him. 'I was done with all that, you know I meant it when I said I wanted to stay-'

'And when you talked of going to see Tarth,' Brienne interrupted, 'when you…spoke of children, and said you wanted to marry me, just a few days ago. Did you mean that?'

Jaime exhaled deeply. 'Yes, I did,' he replied, his tone firm, his gaze sincere.

But this only seemed to confuse Brienne more, judging from her turmoiled expression. 'Well…forgive me if it's rude of me to doubt your word on that, but after you just decided to take off in the middle of the night without a word like a bloody coward-'

'Brienne, please-' Jaime began in a strangled voice, tears welling up once more in his eyes, but Brienne cut over him.

'What exactly was your plan when you decided to stay here with me, after the battle?' she demanded. 'Did you even think any of it through? Or were you just too preoccupied focussing on getting your cock satisfied?'

Jaime's mouth fell open, both outraged and distressed. 'How can you say that when you know how I feel-?'

'I don't know anything about how you feel now, Jamie, don't you see? It's all a lie!' Brienne shouted, pushing him away as he tried to reach out and take her in his arms, and she stumbled backwards on the icy ground. 'What did you think was going to happen, really? That Daenerys and her forces would spare Cersei's life and Cersei would give us her blessing to be together?'

Ashamed, Jaime looked down at the ground. 'I-I didn't think-'

'Well you should have thought!' Brienne snapped, and she exhaled shakily. 'I don't understand you.'

'I wish I could explain it, I…it's hard for-'

'Oh, it's hard for you, is it? Hard?' Brienne said incredulously. 'How very terrible for you.'

There was a pause as they both tried to regain normal breathing, tears in their eyes. Jaime was surprised their raised voices hadn't woken up the residents in the castle. It wouldn't be long now until someone hurried out to Brienne's rescue and take her away from this monstrous man who had broken her heart.

'You mean everything to me,' Jaime said quietly, forcing his eyes to meet her stony glare.

'No,' Brienne said, her voice shuddering with rage. 'If you truly had a shred of any respect or affection left for me, you would never have left in the middle of the night on some ridiculous suicide mission without even saying goodbye. The Jaime I know would never do that, the Jaime I lo-'

But she broke off. She couldn't say it. Not now. It was too late.

Jaime moved his lips wordlessly for a few moments, unsure of what he could say to try and fix this. But there was nothing. Only the truth.

He sighed heavily. 'I didn't say goodbye because I knew if I woke you, if I told you what I was doing…you would try to stop me. Like you are doing now. And it would only make things worse…like it is now. I thought if I left like that, it would…make it easier for you to…hate me enough to…not be as hurt, and well…to move on,' he explained in a small voice. 'It was a coward's way out, I know. And it's too late for me to stick to that now.'

'Well I'm sorry for ruining your excellent plan,' Brienne said dryly.

'Y-you didn't.'

Suddenly Jaime realised then that he was glad that she had woken up and seen him in the courtyard, as painful as this was. It had given him a chance to try and fix it. It had given him a chance to say goodbye after all. He stepped towards her and took her hands in his own gloved ones; this time, she did not pull away, but kept her head bent low.

'It's real, Brienne. This, you and me, everything I said to you in the Godswood. It's always been real,' Jaime said earnestly, and he brought up one of his hands to cup her cheek and bring her face up to look at him. 'You have to believe that.'

'Do I?' Brienne said coldly, and she slowly released his hold of her and took a step back. 'Because to me it seems like I was just a distraction for you this whole time since you've been at Winterfell. You've put off going back to Cersei by using me-!'

'No, that's not true-' Jaime said desperately in a strangled voice.

'Isn't it?' Brienne demanded, her voice and expression like thunder.

There was a frightened silence as the two lovers stared at each other. Brienne's furious scowl made Jaime's face falter as her expression took his mind vividly back to their first day together on that tiny skiff in the Riverlands. The plan had always been to make her hate him, to make it easier for her if he were to perish at the capital…but the plan had never been for him to witness that change in her.

'Just go,' Brienne said in a shaking voice. 'If you're going to go then just do it. Do it!'

Jaime shook his head. 'I won't. I can't leave you like this.'

'You certainly found it easy enough to leave me sleeping in our chambers. So off you go,' Brienne snapped. 'Goodbye, Ser Jaime.'

A lump rose in Jaime's throat as he remembered when she had first said those words to him in that cell at Harrenhal…how it had made him feel to hear her call him by his name…how painful it had been for him to leave her there…

'Do you truly mean for us to part as enemies?' Jaime asked in a small voice.

Brienne stared at him incredulously. How dare he put this on her? How dare he try to make her feel bad?

'Jaime, you know that if I had any say in this we wouldn't be parting at all. But you and your devotion to your poisonous sister apparently know better, so I wish you all the best on your journey,' Brienne spat.

And with that, she turned on her heel and stormed away back into the castle, slamming the door shut behind her.

Jaime stood there for a few moments in the courtyard, simply staring at the icy clouds that formed every time he let out a shaky breath. A tear escaped his eye and trickled down his cheek as he turned back to his horse, waiting impatiently for him. He couldn't stay here, no matter how much he wanted to. Cersei's rise to power had been his fault. She was his responsibility. He had to stop her, but he also had to save her. For the sake of family honour. For the sake of his sworn oath to protect her. For the sake of his unborn child.

He turned back to the door Brienne had closed behind her. How could he desert her like this? And how could she not let him have a moment to explain and say goodbye? Swallowing, Jaime walked towards the door and entered the castle. The walls seemed to be closing in on him as he made his way up the steps and along the cold, narrow, dreary corridor.

Brienne didn't look around at first as she heard the door to their bedchambers open. She knew who it was. She kept her back firmly to the door as she stared at the frosted-over window, her arms folded tightly as if trying to protect her from the cold outside. Jaime slowly closed the door behind him and gazed pitifully at the way she stood with her back to him, her shoulders and head hung low, her stance that of someone truly defeated. She had no armour left. He'd stripped it all from her, and laid her bare, her heart open and vulnerable. Brienne had trusted him enough to let him in and give him the power to break her, and now he had done just that.

'She's carrying my child.'

The words came out of Jaime's mouth before he'd even had time to consider them, but he knew the moment he spoke them that it was the right thing to do. He didn't want to make this any worse or any more painful for Brienne, but it was the only way he could make her understand. And he needed her to understand.

Brienne could feel nothing but shock at the statement as she slowly turned around to face him, her eyes red and sunken as she gazed into his tear-filled eyes as he stood warily over at the opposite end of their room.

'Wh-what?' she whispered, stunned. 'Cersei's pregnant?'

'Yes, I…' Jaime trailed off as he saw the pain in Brienne's face, the way her bottom lip trembled, and he looked down in shame.

'You…so even after what you said to me at Riverrun, you and Cersei, you still…' Brienne murmured, but Jaime cut over her with an infuriated groan.

'Yes, she grew lustful and so did I! I never thought I was going to see you again after Riverrun!' he snapped. 'And you made it clear that day that you didn't want to even talk about the possibility of being with me so what was I to do, become a man of the Night's Watch and abstain?'

Outraged, Brienne reached blindly for the nearest thing she could get her hands on; her fingers clasped around the empty pitcher, the one he had brought in here their very first night together, and threw it at him. It hit Jaime squarely on the face. He couldn't blame her.

'You fucking idiot!' she said, her voice low with rage as she tried to keep her breathing steady. 'I wanted to be with you more than anything, Jaime, I just knew we couldn't! I didn't believe you that day, for starters. And I didn't think it ever would have worked. I thought Cersei would have got in our way. Turns out I was right all along.'

There was a silence as the two of them stared at each other furiously. Jaime wanted to just sink through the floor. These bedchambers held such precious memories for them both, but now…

Why do I always ruin everything? Why am I so hateful?

'Brienne, I…I'm so sorry. I never told you about the baby because I thought it would make you hate me, and I couldn't bear that,' he said in a shaking voice, 'but now I…I need you to know everything, the whole truth. And I need you to hate me, Brienne, because otherwise I-I can't leave you like this, I can't do it…'

And then to Brienne's astonishment Jaime broke down into tears. Her chin quivered as she watched him crumble before her, his knees threatening to give way, and she sank down heavily onto the bed as she stared up at him with watery, bloodshot eyes. She realised then that this man was just as broken by his actions as she was…and full of conflict about his terrible predicament.

'I…I didn't realise how much I wanted to be a father until the day Myrcella died. I just never got the chance.'

Brienne looked down sadly as she remembered Jaime's words to her from a few weeks ago. He has his chance now.

'I don't hate you,' Brienne murmured heavily. 'It's…I can understand now, why you feel…you have to do this. You've known what it is to be a father.'

Jaime looked at her, wiping away his tears, and he scoffed bitterly. 'I was no father. I wanted to be, by the gods I wanted to be – and I do, I still do, with you if we lived in a fairer world – but…I failed all my children,' he said, and she could hear the self-loathing in his voice. 'Joffrey was raised to be a monster, all thanks to his mother. He was vicious and cruel, and got murdered for it. And I don't even blame Olenna Tyrell for doing it.'

He walked over and sat down on the bed beside her, his head hung low in shame.

'But Myrcella was good and innocent and sweet, and she was excited to be married to the boy she loved,' Jaime went on miserably. 'All I wanted to do was protect her, but…if I hadn't gone to Dorne to take her back to King's Landing, she might not have even been killed. But she was. In the most brutal, undeserving way possible. And all I could do was watch as she died in my arms.'

A tear fell from Brienne's cheek as she watched him. Ever so slowly, she reached a hand out to stroke his back soothingly. Amongst all his pain and misery in this moment, Jaime felt a surge of relief and warmth flood through him at the feel of her comforting touch.

'And then Tommen…the kindest boy I've ever known and I wasn't there for him because I was away on some ghastly mission for my sister, not realising she planned to blow up the entire Sept…which drove our son to suicide,' Jaime said, his voice breaking.

'Jaime, it wasn't your fault,' Brienne said earnestly, her voice quiet and gentle. 'You must know that.'

'I don't know that, no. All I know is that I can't let Cersei destroy the life of our last child,' he murmured, and he looked up at Brienne helplessly, shaking his head in despair. 'I can't do it.'

Brienne nodded, her eyes swimming with tears. 'I know,' she whispered.

Overcome with emotion, Jaime then leant his head into her shoulder. Brienne took him in her arms and hugged him tightly; Jaime hugged her back with a sense of desperation, wishing he could never let go.

'You've made me so happy, you know,' Brienne murmured as they broke apart from each other, but then she grimaced. 'I don't mean now-'

'No, I…I know you didn't mean now.'

'Right now I just want to lock you in here so you can't ever leave,' Brienne muttered, and they exchanged a weak smile.

'You've made me so happy as well,' Jaime murmured, and he removed the glove from his good hand so he could hold hers tightly and cherish the feel of her soft skin and her fingers intertwined with his. 'More than I ever thought I could be, more than I thought was possible. I mean that, Brienne, truly.'

'But you're giving it all up,' Brienne said in a small voice.

'I have to. I…I swore a solemn vow to her,' Jaime confessed heavily. 'The day I brought back Myrcella's body from Dorne. It was the only way to comfort her. I pledged to always protect her.'

'You swore an oath?' Brienne said, frowning. 'You never told me about that.'

'That's because I was ashamed to admit I'd broken it when I left her to come here to Winterfell,' Jaime explained.

'If you swore a vow to her, then why didn't you go back to her straight after we'd won the battle?' Brienne asked.

'Because I was selfish and I wanted to stay here with you and…I thought I would be able to break it. I tried to forget about it, I tried to put it and her and the baby behind me. I thought I could…carry on and just forget, and be here with you and not let some stupid oath haunt me…' Jaime said bitterly, but to his surprise he saw that Brienne was smiling warmly at him.

'But that's not you, Jaime. It never was,' she said, almost fondly. 'If you'd told me this before, then I would have told you as much.'

She understood now. He would never be able to live with himself if he broke a solemn vow, to his sister especially.

'I never meant to hurt you,' Jaime murmured.

'I know that.'

'I really thought I could…that we…-'

'I know, I know,' Brienne reassured him, pressing her lips together as they both tried to fight back more tears. 'You don't have to say it. It's all right.'

They grasped each other's hand tightly and rested their foreheads against one another's as they stayed sat there together on the edge of the bed in silence for a while. Jaime never wanted to leave. Brienne had been thrown into his life during his darkest days, and she'd lit him up. She'd made him feel that he was enough somehow. But it had been too good to last.

After a short while, Brienne leaned away and stroked Jaime's cheek with her other hand. 'Jaime…you say you were no father. Well, you're wrong,' she said tearfully. 'I didn't know your children, but…I could see for myself that Joffrey was Cersei's child and not yours. But you say Myrcella and Tommen were good and sweet, and that's because they got that from you. They were good people, kind people, because of you. And it was a cruel trick of fate that their lives were cut so short.'

'It wasn't fate. It was war,' Jaime said sadly. 'And I won't let this war win this time.'

'No. You wouldn't be being you if you did,' Brienne said, and she loved him all the more for it. 'I'm coming with you.'

It took Jaime a few moments to register what she'd just said as she rose to her feet with a new air of determination about her. But then his eyes widened in alarm and he leapt to his feet too, horrified.

'No. Absolutely not,' Jaime said firmly, and Brienne glared warningly at him.

'This isn't a debate-'

'Brienne, you have an oath to uphold to Lady Sansa, and besides I am not dragging you down with me-'

'I won't let you go there alone-'

'And I won't let you die!' Jaime interrupted sharply, his voice shaking, and a silence fell between them as they stared at each other in anguish. 'You're going to die when you're old, surrounded by your family in Tarth-'

'Well I thought you were going to be my family,' Brienne said, her voice breaking.

Jaime gazed at her in dismay. 'I am. I…I was. And if I could choose, that would be my way to go as well, on the Sapphire Isle with you surrounded by our children and grandchildren,' he said, smiling at the thought as he wrapped his hands around hers. 'But…I need to do this. You know I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least try to save my sister and baby, for the sake of my oath if not for my family. And I need to know you're safe here while I do that. I need to know you're alive. Please. I couldn't bear it if…' Jaime trailed off, unable to think it, let alone say it aloud.

'Well I couldn't bear it if I let you leave just to end up being killed!' Brienne said, her chin quivering again. 'I can't do what you're asking of me, Jaime. To let you go and let everyone here think you're a traitor-'

'Yes you can,' Jaime said fiercely, cupping her face in his hands. 'It doesn't matter what they think, all that matters is you, you understand? And you're the strongest person I know.'

'But you'll die.'

'I might not,' Jaime said, broken by the pain in her voice and expression. 'But we both know I wouldn't be undeserving of it if I did.'

Brienne let the tears come as she shook her head desperately at him. 'You're wrong.'

But Brienne was fighting a losing war. Cersei – or rather, his addiction to her – had driven him to perform horrific deeds, ones he would be forever haunted by. He was just as bad as his sister, if not worse. No one could convince him that he was decent, not even the woman he loved.

Jaime gazed at her through tear-filled eyes as Brienne wept, her hands clinging onto his as if her life depended on it.

'I l-' Brienne paused and took a deep breath through her sobs before finally saying the words she had longed to say since the day he had sent her away from King's Landing. 'I love you.'

Jaime's lips parted as he felt his heart both swell and break simultaneously. He hadn't expected that. He realised then that no one had ever spoken those three words to him before in his entire life. No one. It shook him deeply, and he could feel his tears threatening to spill over again.

'You shouldn't,' Jaime whispered, as Brienne exhaled shakily. 'But…I love you too.'

'No, don't do that, Jaime, please,' Brienne murmured, blinking away more tears. 'I don't want you to say anything out of pity for me.'

'It's not, it's the truth,' Jaime said earnestly, and he caressed her cheek with his hand as he gazed into her eyes. 'I should have said it before. I should have said it our first night together after the feast, I should have said it during the battle, I should have said it at Riverrun, I should have said it when I gave you the sword and you named it Oathkeeper, I should have said it when we left that wretched bear pit in Harrenhal. I love you, Brienne. With every fibre in my being.'

Brienne found herself smiling as more tears came, unsure of whether his declaration made her more happy or sad.

'I'm so…I'm so sorry it has to be this way,' Jaime said, blinking rapidly as he removed his hand from her cheek. 'But I just…I can't bear to think that I'll do nothing to protect my sister and my baby.'

'I understand. I would expect nothing less of you,' Brienne said in a small voice, wiping away a stray tear from her cheek.

Jaime shook his head as he gazed at her, mesmerized. 'I feel unworthy of you.'

But Brienne smiled at him as she brought his hand up to her lips. 'You shouldn't,' she murmured, and she kissed the top of his hand before looking at him in turmoil. 'You have to go now, don't you?'

'I…I think so, yes,' Jaime murmured heavily, regretting his words already. 'Or I'll be too late.'

Brienne nodded tearfully. 'Let me walk you out.'

They left their bedchambers together and walked out of the castle hand-in-hand. When they reached Jaime's horse in the middle of the courtyard, Brienne went up to it to check the saddle, just as she had done years ago when they had been on the road with Roose Bolton's soldiers escorting them away from Harrenhal and back to King's Landing. Those had been much simpler times. They hadn't known pain like this back then. And yet they also hadn't known the happiness they had shared together this past month. Jaime wondered if it had all been worth it, now it had led to this. He hoped that Brienne thought so. At least he was comforted by the thought that they both knew that they would love each other until their dying breath, come what may…whenever that might be.

'Have you got enough food? And water?' Brienne asked anxiously.

'Yes, I'll be fine.'

'What about another cloak?' she went on, frowning as she rested her hands on his chest, and Jaime closed his eyes. 'You'll be far too cold-'

'Brienne. It's all right,' Jaime interrupted gently, and he rested his hand against her cheek once more, trying to reassure her. 'These weeks with you have been the best of my life. The happiest.'

Brienne smiled with trembling lips. 'Mine too,' she murmured, the tears welling up again in her eyes. 'I wouldn't change anything. Not one single thing from our time together.'

'I would. Just one thing.'

'Losing your hand?' Brienne guessed.

'No, not that,' Jaime said, his lips twitching ever so briefly, and then his face fell. 'The existence of my wretched sister.'

'Don't say that,' Brienne said at once, shaking her head. 'She's your blood, she's a part of you. And anyway, she's separate from us…from me and you.'

A tear escaped from Jaime's eyes as he nodded heavily. 'Then in that case…I have no regrets. I wouldn't change a thing either.'

Aside from perhaps this night, if I had the strength to do so.

'Not the battle at Winterfell, not Riverrun, not the bear pit and Harrenhal and Locke and all the rest of it, not even that stupid sword fight on the bridge. I'd change none of it,' he said, and he clutched both his hands around hers. 'Except perhaps some of the words I spoke to you…which, in hindsight, might have been quite harsh.'

Brienne laughed softly, which made Jaime laugh as well as he rested his forehead against hers. They stood there for a moment like that, half-laughing and half-crying as they tried to freeze this moment in time and in their memory so it would go on forever.

'You're my soulmate, you know,' Jaime murmured, kissing her forehead before leaning away and fixing her with his intense gaze. 'I meant what I said in the Godswood, every word and more. We'll find each other again, whether in this life or the next-'

Brienne frowned. 'I thought you didn't believe in life after death.'

'Well I do now. We will find each other again, I promise. That's what we do,' he said, a small smile on her lips.

'You'll come back for me? If you live through this?' Brienne whispered.

'I will. And I won't ever leave you again. Not unless you ask me to,' Jaime promised, and he pressed his lips to the top of her hand as he gripped it tightly. 'I am yours, and you are mine, Brienne. From this day, until the end of my days.'

Brienne exhaled shakily as more tears came. She'd wanted to hear him say those words for so long, but never in these circumstances. She couldn't bear to see the face she loved about to disappear from her life, most likely forever. As her face tore up in anguish, Jaime drew her into his arms and time seemed to stand still as they held each other tightly. A thousand things unsaid passed between them in their embrace as they both thought longingly of what might have been and the future that they could have, full of peace and happiness…

Maybe I will survive through this after all. Maybe I'll save Cersei and help stop the war, and then I can come back to be with Brienne for good at last, and I'll finally be worthy of her…

Childish, wishful thoughts kept swimming through Jaime's mind as he held onto Brienne tightly. For one strange moment there was then only him and her, and the call of his sister and the threat of the war didn't exist. It was just the two of them. And then the moment was gone just as quickly as it had come. Jaime's face crumpled as he clung desperately to her, wanting nothing more than to just stay here in her arms and never let go, but knowing he couldn't.

As they broke apart from their hug, Jaime then leaned in to kiss Brienne for the last time. Her lips trembled against his as they kissed tenderly, trying to memorize every last sensation of the feel of each other. When they leaned apart, tears were streaming down both their faces.

'I love you,' Jaime whispered, cupping her face softly in his hands.

Whatever distance there would be between them while he was gone, Jaime knew that there was nothing he wouldn't do to find his way back to her. All he had to do was pray that this war, Cersei and Daenerys Targaryen wouldn't tear them apart before they could reunite.

Brienne nodded as she placed her hand over his as it rested on her cheek, and held him tightly to her. 'I love you too.'

A part of her longed to knock him unconscious and keep him locked away to prevent him from leaving, but she knew she couldn't do that. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't rescue him. All she could do was love him and let him go. It was the hardest thing she ever had to do.

Jaime gave her hands a squeeze and then Brienne released her hold of him. Wiping the tears away from his face, Jaime scrambled up onto his horse, wondering if he would ever see Brienne again. He doubted he would, but he had to hold out hope that he would return to her; it would be the only thing that would keep him going on this mission. He would be able to come back here to Winterfell, to Brienne, to everything he had ever wanted, and finally be worthy of her love. All he had to do was save his sister and baby, and secure the future for him and Brienne and everyone else.

Hoping he was doing the right thing, Jaime then turned around for one last look at Brienne. She was trying to put on a brave face as she raised her hand in farewell and gave him a reassuring smile, but he could still see the tears trickling down her cheeks. Blinking away his own tears, Jaime raised his hand as well, and suddenly he was reminded of the last time they had waved goodbye to each other, back at Riverrun.

We found each other again after that day, when we never thought we'd see each other again. We can do that again.

Jaime gazed into those beautiful blue eyes of Brienne's for the last time and then with a nod and smile, he turned around and rode across the courtyard and out through the open gates for the last time. He knew as the cold wind bit at his cheeks and the tears continued to fall that he would love Brienne with everything in him until the last breath left his body.

Chapter Text

Blossom was beginning to form on the trees. It surprised Brienne to see that winter had not been as long or as treacherous as had been predicted. It made her feel somewhat hopeful for the future, and yet whenever she felt that, a strange surge of guilt would threaten to overcome her. How could she possibly think about being ready to move on, when the loss of Jaime still felt so raw?

Even after all this time, the grief remained Brienne's close companion. Some moments were harrowing and some were beautiful, and they never went away. They followed her like a shadow, like a gaping hole that Brienne had already gotten used to. Although Brienne had accepted now – and almost even embraced – that this feeling would never go away, she couldn't help but wish sometimes that she was free of it. She missed the person she had been when she was around Jaime. For quite some time now she hadn't shed a single tear, nor had she felt a surge of outrageous joy. She wanted to live again. She wanted to feel again. She wanted to re-join the human race. All she had to do was ask Jaime to let her go, and to move on from the future they had dreamed of together. There was a different life ahead for her now, as hard as that may be for her to try to understand and accept. But she wasn't ready for that quite yet. She needed to hold onto him, just for a little longer. And she could still try to enjoy her new life; it was getting easier with each week that passed.

Indeed, on one particular evening, Brienne found herself having a drink at one of the capital's many rebuilt inns with Pod and Tyrion, and the three of them were joking and drinking just like they had done at the feast at Winterfell, so many months ago now. After laughing for the first time in months at something witty Tyrion had said, Brienne had glanced up from under her lashes to look at the seat opposite her, half expecting to see Jaime's tender mesmerized gaze and soft smile…only to see it empty. And then the guilt, shame and sorrow had hit her like a punch to the gut, because grief followed no rules, and her rediscovered ability to laugh seemed to disappear abruptly.

Brienne left the inn quickly after that and retired to the Lady Commander's apartments so that she could keep busy and write a letter to Queen Sansa, as she frequently did, to update her on life in King's Landing. She wrote of how she missed Sansa's assertive yet comforting presence, of how she missed a female friend to talk to, of how Pod spoke of her often and openly looked forward to visiting Winterfell as one of King Bran's delegates. Brienne often wondered how that relationship between Sansa and Pod had started; she had been too consumed in her own newfound love with Jaime that she had barely noticed it come about. Lost in nostalgia, Brienne cast her mind back to that day on the snow-covered grounds in Winterfell while Pod had trained outside with the other squires and Sansa had noted his impressive skills. Not long after Sansa had left her side, Jaime had walked over to stand beside Brienne, smiling slightly as he noticed her nervous blinking. Two intimate friends who knew each other better than most, and yet they had been so unsure and so nervous after the last time they had spoken alone in Riverrun.

Why had we put it off for so long? Why did we waste so much time?

Sighing, Brienne abandoned her letter to Sansa for now, making a mental note to complete it tomorrow, and walked out onto her balcony, the balcony that Jaime had once looked out of so many times. He had told her himself once how much he had liked to come out here every night to look up at the stars, and every morning to watch the sun rise. It was his way of escaping, a brief moment of peace, where he could forget the woes of his family and the kingdom. Brienne understood how he had felt, only now strangely she felt like she didn't need to escape anymore. This place and its people were slowly but surely becoming her home. And it surprised Brienne deeply to realise that she was content with that fact.

Brienne looked up at the clear night sky, at the stunning view of the stars twinkling in the distance, and sighed longingly as she prayed for Jaime.

I know you're there. I just wish you were here. With me.

There was then a gentle tap at the door. Brienne turned around to see Tyrion hovering there in the open doorway. Brienne's lips parted in surprise; he must have followed her back to the Red Keep from the inn.

'Ser Brienne. May I come in?' he asked, and Brienne came back into her room from the balcony at once.

'Of course, Lord Ty-'

'What have I told you? Just Tyrion, please. Forgive me, I don't mean to intrude,' Tyrion said as he stepped into her room. 'I know it's rather untoward for a man to come alone to the bedchambers of a noble woman such as yourself at night like this. Not that that deterred my brother by any means.'

There was an awkward silence as Brienne felt herself blush. Tyrion grimaced.

'I…I'm sorry, my lady, that was…a poor attempt at a joke,' he muttered uncomfortably.

'It's quite all right. And…you're not wrong. Although Jaime was rather intoxicated at the time I think you're referring to.'

Tyrion laughed fondly. 'He was terribly nervous that night. I truly believe he was worried his affections for you were unrequited. Ah…it seems so long ago now,' he said wistfully.

'It does. Please, do sit. How may I help?' Brienne asked, as they both sat by her desk.

Tyrion watched her carefully, his brow furrowed. 'You rushed off earlier at supper. I thought we were having a nice evening together, us three.'

'We were. We did. It was very nice,' Brienne replied.

'Then…why did you leave so early?' Tyrion asked. 'I don't mean to impose, I'm just…I'm concerned and I want to make sure everything's all right.'

Brienne frowned. 'Why?'

'Because I'm your friend. And because I promised my brother I would look after you,' Tyrion said gently, and Brienne looked down at her hands on her lap.

'I don't need taking care of, Tyrion,' she said quietly.

'I know that…just as much as you know he didn't mean it in that way when he asked me to,' Tyrion said, almost sternly, and after a short silence he sighed. 'You know…I'm not trying to replace him, in any way.'

Brienne gave him a questioning look.

'I'm very aware that…you, Pod and my brother had a…connection of some sort,' Tyrion said. 'The three of you shared a special dynamic, ever since the Battle of Winterfell. I would hate for you to think I'm trying to…take his place in that.'

Brienne's face fell. 'Oh, Tyrion, you've got me very wrong. It's not that at all,' she said earnestly, and she sighed in resignation. 'I'm sorry that I was no good at hiding my…sadness earlier. But you see…I laughed this evening. You said something, I can't even remember what it was now, but…it made me laugh. And I haven't laughed since…-'

'Since he died,' Tyrion finished for her gently.

Brienne nodded. 'I think the last time was…the day before he left. He made some awful joke about me giving him a hand.'

'Oh dear,' Tyrion said, frowning. 'That's quite appalling, even for him.'

'I know. But the thing is…I thought that was it. After he left Winterfell, I…well, I was so deliriously happy during that month we spent together. And I was so…broken when he'd gone, I just assumed…I'd never find any remote joy in life again. But this evening I laughed. I smiled. And it was almost as if I'd…forgotten him, just for a moment. And I couldn't bear that,' Brienne murmured, a tear welling in her eye. 'So…that's why I left early. Forgive me if it was rude to do so.'

Tyrion gazed at her, his eyes full of sympathy, and found himself feeling grateful towards his late brother for bringing this person into his life. 'It wasn't rude at all, Lady – sorry, Ser-'

'Brienne. Just Brienne.'

'Very well. Brienne,' Tyrion said, and he smiled. 'You shouldn't let yourself feel guilty for…feeling happy, from time to time. And I know what you're going to say, but you're wrong – it's not a betrayal, it's not disloyal and it's not an insult to his memory. And you should jolly well listen to me, seeming as I'm his last living relative and have the right to say this.'

Brienne managed a hint of a small smile as she looked at him, his bottom lip trembling slightly.

'It's been quite a few months now,' Tyrion said, almost bracingly. 'We have both…reached a certain phase in coping with what happened. A turning point, if you will…where we are finally feeling…well, almost at peace with carrying on with our lives…without him physically around to share it with us. And that fact alone is painful and terrible and distressing but…that's what grief is, I'm afraid.'

'You feel the same, then?' Brienne asked, feeling somewhat relieved that she was not alone.

'I do. More so than I'd like anyone to believe.'