He Never Wanted to Leave

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/26414395.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Category: F/M
Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV)
Relationship: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters (very
minor- background)
Character: Jaime Lannister, Brienne of Tarth, Jon Snow, Bran Stark, Sansa Stark,
Arya Stark, Tyrion Lannister, Kinvara (Game of Thrones), Podrick
Payne, Bronn (ASoIaF), Selwyn Tarth
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Sansa Stark, not sansa
friendly, Canon through S8E4, Valonqar Prophecy, Heavy Angst, Angst
with a Happy Ending, horrible angst, brienne dies..., but Brienne comes
back to life (kinvara), Miscarriage
Stats: Published: 2020-09-11 Updated: 2020-09-29 Chapters: 20/? Words:
69414

He Never Wanted to Leave

by BecauseBraime

Summary

Canon mostly through S8E4. After Bronn shows up at Winterfell, Jaime knows that he
must leave to kill Cersei. It's the only way to keep Brienne safe and atone for his sins.
Assuming Brienne will be safest at Winterfell, Jaime sets out on his mission. Dark thoughts
swirl in Sansa's mind and prove Jaime's assumption horribly wrong. Now Jaime has to find
a way to bring Brienne back to life and to him.

Notes

This is going to be very angsty and dark in the first half, but it gets better halfway through
(current outline around 20ish chapters). In all the works I've written, this is my first stab at
poor Sansa. Sorry to any Sansa fans (I swear I don't hate her)! I usually love teaming her up
with Brienne as a great support system and friend, but I could almost see S8 Sansa behaving
this way (not ALL of it mind you) and S8 Jaime broke me, so now I have to fix him. Cause
I don't know WTF that Jaime was.
 Prologue

‘You would fight beside him?’

‘I would.’

It was the moment that Sansa’s trust in Brienne broke irreparably. The sworn sword of the lady
leading House Stark had sided with a Lannister. With him.

Cersei’s twin and lover had stood before them making the feeblest attempt to pretend at honor that
Sansa ever bore witness to. If they won the war with the dead, it was a foregone conclusion that the
dishonorable knight would flee back to his sister-lover.

With him, the Kingslayer would bring information on their forces and strategy. Cersei risked
nothing by sending him. The formerly golden Lannister twin was a man with one hand. He would
offer little in way of aid against an army of dead things. By comparison, Cersei’s army would
remain intact to face whichever side won.

When the living won, the Kingslayer did not return south as the agreement at the dragonpit stated.
Instead, he stayed and followed Brienne around like a stray dog. Knowing the role that Brienne
played at Winterfell, Sansa thought it was logical.

He seeks information. What better place than through my sworn sword. The very woman who
shadows me throughout the day; hearing all manner of plans and politics. The only person in all
the North who cares for him. The only person who vouched for him aside from his own kin. He
takes advantage of her weakness; her heart.

Sansa had learned years ago that while her sworn sword was the warrior incarnate, she had a
maiden’s heart. She had once asked Brienne if she ever experienced love. If she had ever known a
man.

The question originally came out of a desire for comradery. Sansa had experienced the worst form
of touch at the hands of Ramsay. She imagined that a woman who looked as Brienne did likely
only knew aggressive touch.

Brienne shared that she had only ever experienced attempted rape or japes at her femininity. She
shared that bets were made on her maidenhead, but none sought it out of love.

While Brienne never admitted to her love of Renly, it was obvious in how she spoke of the man. It
was akin to how Brienne spoke on behalf of the Kingslayer.

Then Brienne came to Sansa at the Kingslayer’s behest, asking if he could stay. The Lannister twin
pretended at having little desire to go south, but Sansa believed that as much as she believed his
intentions for riding north in the first place. It was an obvious ploy to get closer to their plans.

Baelish had warned Sansa once. Brienne of Tarth, the woman whose loyalty supposedly could not
be bought, was paid in full by Jaime Lannister. A Lannister sword hilt, a Lannister squire, and a
sword belt with lion heads.

The Kingslayer purchased Brienne’s loyalty not in gold, but in contrived affection. A currency that
Brienne never earned payment in before. It was a currency that Brienne seemed to desire as much
as Cersei and Daenerys desired the crown.
‘He armed me, armored me, and sent me to find you and bring you home, because he'd sworn an
oath to your mother.’

To Brienne, the Kingslayer may as well have given her a crown and jewels. It was the warrior
knight’s version of finery befitting a noblewoman. Sansa almost pitied the woman.

Does she truly believe someone such as herself could be desired by him? In truth, I am surprised he
managed to bed her. It certainly seemed to take a lot of wine to commit to his lie.

Sansa pretended at happiness for the woman she once trusted with her life. She agreed to let the
Kingslayer stay, but Sansa did so only to delay his return to Cersei’s side.

He knew too much of their forces. Sending him away would send him right back to King’s Landing
with details of their attack to come. Allowing him to stay was more to their benefit. A political
prisoner of sorts.

Sansa resolved to sabotage his objective. She refused him attendance at strategy meetings to ensure
he heard little of their evolving plans. She also found a use for her traitorous sworn sword. A
glorified Septa of sorts.

‘Lady Brienne, I will warn you. He is your responsibility. If he betrays us, it would be your head.
Keep an eye on him and report to me if you feel he will flee.’

In truth, Sansa knew that the Kingslayer would flee. It was a matter of when, not if. When they met
in the war council the day after Brienne’s request, Sansa offered her sworn sword a knowing smile.

The truth behind her smile was not one of happiness for the woman, but Sansa’s knowledge of
what was to come. When Sansa saw the small, returning smile tug at Brienne’s lips, she again felt a
nearly imperceptible pang of sympathy for the dolt.

How can she possibly think he cares for her? He got drunk, took her maidenhead, made her no
promises, and asks to stay without pledging loyalty to our cause nor marriage to the woman he
publicly dishonored.

Sansa watched for weeks as Brienne smiled dotingly at a man who looked more and more distant
by the day. It was clear that his mind was with his sister-lover. It took a moon turn before he made
his move.

When Sansa received the missive, she brought Brienne into the courtyard where she knew the
Kingslayer was bound to be milling about. He spent his days either trailing after Brienne and Pod
or watching the castle’s rebuilding process.

Sansa knew that with Missandei captured and a dragon killed, the Targaryen queen would go mad.
Signs of the Targaryen’s madness were evident at Winterfell during her stay. Sansa saw the vexed
looks and tense exchanges with Jon. Sansa planted the final seed by sharing the truth Jon’s lineage
with Tyrion.

I’ll let the two women destroy each other in the battle to come. Let my enemies take each other out.
Then I’ll see to it that the North is free of them all.

Looking to the missive in her hands, Sansa smiled inwardly as she donned her cool mask. She
learned the art of lying from Baelish, but she perfected it years prior in King’s Landing when she
stood before Joffrey and Cersei.

This is what will push the Kingslayer over the edge to take the last step towards his death. The
final push back to his sister’s arms and see all my enemies in the stranger’s grasp; Daenerys and
the Lannisters.

Sansa read the missive and watched as the man’s face fell at word of his siter’s imminent demise.
He would not get a chance to gather more information or weaken them from within. The
Kingslayer would flee to his true love none the wiser.

Sansa heard from the lookout of the pitiful scene in the courtyard the night prior. She saw the
withdrawn look on Brienne’s face the next day in the great hall. It was a waiting game to see how
long it would take the woman to confess her failure. The admission didn’t take long.

A knock at the door to Sansa’s study interrupted her concentration on the missive she was writing.
Before calling to enter, Sansa took a small sip of her tea. The door creaked open, revealing the face
of her sworn sword.

“Lady Brienne. What can I do for you?” Sansa’s voice was as cool as the northern winds. She
glanced back down at the missive she was writing while Brienne entered the room and shut the
door.

“My lady, if I may have a moment of your time.”

Pointing at the seat before you, Sansa poured Brienne some tea. They often took tea together in
Sansa’s study, and Sansa attempted to make the morning’s routine seem no different than any
other.

With a polite smile and nod, Brienne drank the tea and fumbled for her words. “I regret to inform
you, but Ser Jaime left last night.”

Of course he did. And you let him.

“And you’re telling me this now?”

Sansa looked up from her missive in feigned shock. The expression on Brienne’s face was one of
shame.

“I apologize, my lady. I… I tried to stop him.”

Tension filled the air as Sansa stood from her desk and walked around it. Leaning slightly against
the wooden desk, Sansa gripped the edge with her hands and appraised Brienne. Her sworn sword
looked as though she went through the Seven Hells and back again.

“Why did he leave?”

Brienne shifted in her seat and swallowed thickly. “For… for Cersei.”

“Because Cersei is the only woman he loves.” Sansa watched as Brienne flinched, but she did not
deny the statement.

“Yes, my lady.”

Sansa snorted and raised a brow. “So he spoke no words of love to you? No promises?”

“No, my lady.”

Folding her arms, Sansa’s eyes narrowed at the woman before her. She wanted to laugh at how
gullible the woman had been. Regardless of intent, Brienne had betrayed Sansa for the Lannisters.
Pity gave way to anger at the betrayal. Sansa had been made to feel a fool before. Misplaced trust
seemed a theme in Sansa’s life, and the woman before her proved to be no different than past
lessons.

“So the rumors are true. You truly are the Kingslayer’s Whore?”

Brienne bit her lip as tears formed in her eyes. She looked to the floor and did not answer the
question. Pushing further, Sansa took aim where she knew it would hurt most.

“You were at Joffrey’s wedding. Cersei spoke to you. I assume you recall what she looks like. Did
you truly believe someone like him could desire someone like you after having her? You betrayed
us when you let him ride south to save his twin. You betrayed me. You failed me.”

Brienne took a deep breath and spoke more to her feet than Sansa. “I am very sorry, my lady. I do
not believe he means to fight against us. I think he only means to save Cersei, or at least ensure she
doesn’t die alone. He knows that city is doomed.”

“How can you possibly know any of that? Clearly you didn’t even see how he was using you to get
information for his sister. And what do you think will happen if Cersei survives this? You must
know that she will come for me next, or are you that stupid? Now he rides south with full
knowledge of our plans. You do recall our agreement, correct? Are you here to offer your head?”

Brienne glanced up and nodded. “I remember it. It’s yours to take.”

Sansa stood to full height. A menacing expression tugged at her features. “When this war is done, I
will see to it that you are exiled if you have not left Westeros before then. I’ll leave you with your
head as a parting thanks for what you once did for me. You must leave before sunset.”
 A Maiden and a Knight
Chapter Summary

Jaime and Brienne reflect the day the missive arrives from the south.

Brienne

Brienne pushed around the porridge in her bowl. On account of the miserable hour, only a few
other soldiers were in the great hall breaking their fast. Always an early riser, Brienne was
accustomed to waking before the sun. It was not uncommon for her to be the first to rise and the
last to take rest.

In the North, it seemed that most hours were without sunlight. It was often difficult to identify
where one day ended and the next began. Despite that, Brienne had acclimated to it.

At her back and two tables down, a group of men grumbled about the cold and shift assignments
for the day. Brienne knew the men. They were a problematic group originally from House Bolton.
It was with good reason that Jon left them behind on his march south. The men were crass,
insubordinate, cruel, and disrespectful.

More so concerning to Brienne was their lack of regard for a woman’s authority. They
condescended to Lady Stark, and they seemed determined to make Brienne’s life more difficult
than necessary.

Then she heard it. The voice was low enough that it pretended at secrecy, but Brienne knew better.

“Can’t believe they stuck the fuckin’ woman with me again. Kingslayer’s Whore.”

The men snickered before another continued.

“Ser Whore now. What a fuckin’ joke. I heard he only knighted her so he could bed her.”

A flush at the back of Brienne’s neck gave away her awareness of their conversation. It was not the
first time since the feast that Brienne heard such cruelties spoken by the group.

Any respect she earned during the Long Night seemed cast aside the moment Jaime Lannister
followed her from the great hall and stumbled into her room drunk, complaining of the heat,
Tormund, and Tyrion’s game.

Since then, Brienne heard soldiers jape that it took Jaime a jug of wine to knight her and a barrel’s
worth to bed her. Worse still, others japed that Jaime only laid with Brienne to boast at bedding the
most attractive woman in Westeros and the ugliest woman in Westeros.

Still, Brienne let Jaime return night after night. Try as she might to summon some semblance of
self-respect and self-preservation, she couldn’t turn him away.

Brienne had loved Jaime for years despite her mind’s insistence to the contrary. She had never
done anything for herself until Jaime came to her room that night. He seemed willing, and so for
the first time in her life, Brienne followed her heart.
Like Jaime once stated, things were clearer in the daylight. The day after Jaime took her
maidenhead, Brienne cried privately as she stared down at the bloodstain coating her bedding. She
reprimanded herself for allowing her heart to override her mind.

If word reached Tarth of how whorishly she behaved, Brienne feared that she would be Brienne
Storm before the winter’s end. A part of Brienne also worried that Jaime felt dishonored at the act.

Jaime always seemed to pride himself on his fidelity to Cersei. Brienne was uncertain what brought
Jaime to her door that night, but she supposed that wine and sadness drove his actions.

Wine to give him the courage to bed such a creature as her. Sadness at the loss of Cersei. His own
twin had threatened to kill him for choosing to honor a pledge to fight for the living. Brienne
wished to kill Cersei herself, if only it wouldn’t destroy Jaime in the process.

In her heart, Brienne knew that Jaime was not hers to keep. Everyday Jaime grew more distant and
Brienne feared that he may return south before the fighting ended. It wasn’t the thought of losing
Jaime to Cersei that scared Brienne, but the thought of what would happen to Jaime when he left.

The North and Queen Daenerys already hated Jaime despite how honorable he proved himself to
be. If Jaime was caught returning to his sister’s side as the agreement in the dragonpit stated, it
would be a death sentence.

Every night, Brienne prayed to the Seven that she could be just enough to keep Jaime safe until the
fighting was over. Afterwards Jaime could likely reclaim his ancestral home with backing from the
crown.

He could take a beautiful wife to bear his children. Someone worthy of him. Someone whose love
he returned. It would hurt to watch, but Brienne would be happy for him.

Jaime made no promises nor spoke false words of love. If anything, Brienne respected him more
for it. It was in herself that Brienne lost respect.

That fucking game. ‘You’re a virgin.’

She had wanted to punch Tyrion and reply, ‘Of course I’m a virgin, you dolt. I’m an unwed
noblewoman.’

It was another reminder of the cruelties of the world.

If I was a beautiful noblewoman, I would be scorned for losing my maidenhead before I wed.
Because I am an ugly noblewoman, I am mocked for having my maidenhead despite being unwed.

Even still, it was less that Tyrion made a mockery of her maidenhead and more the way he said it.
‘You’re a virgin.’

When the words left Tyrion’s lips, all Brienne could think of was a similar comment spoken by
another Lannister years ago.

‘You’re a virgin I take it. Your childhood must have been awful for you. Were you a foot taller
than all the boys?’

It wasn’t the first time during the feast that Brienne wondered if Tyrion’s game was no different
than the ball on Tarth. Brienne had told Pod of it. The cruel game in which the boys pretended at
liking her and wanting do dance with her. Pretended at wanting to marry her. ‘Brienne the Beauty’
they called her when the game was revealed.
Then she thought of Renly’s camp and the bet made on her maidenhead. The men had been nice
then too. It wasn’t until Lord Tarly told Brienne the truth of it that she realized how naïve she had
been to think herself desirable.

Brienne had wondered if the three men met up before the feast to lay out the game. She wondered
if Jaime mocked her virginity to Tyrion, just as Pod shared the story of the ball from Tarth. It was
the only way that Jaime could have known about her dancing with Renly.

Why would Pod partake in such a cruel game? I thought he was my friend.

Brienne had wanted to ask Pod of it the next day, but she couldn’t find the courage. If Pod’s
friendship was only a game for his own amusement, Brienne would rather be ignorant to it. He was
the only friend she had and losing him meant she would be alone again.

Notwithstanding her suspicions at Jaime’s interest, Brienne gave herself to him. Love was not
something she expected to have returned. It was one of the earliest lessons that Brienne learned in
life.

She was not lovable. Despite that, Brienne willingly giving all of herself to anyone who would
accept it. She offered her loyalty, protection, care, and love.

At first, Jaime seemed content with his decision to stay. There was a moment in which Brienne
thought perhaps he might care for her. A tenderness was in his eyes when they were together, and
it sent Brienne’s heart racing. When Jaime approached Brienne about seeking Sansa’s approval to
stay, she was overjoyed.

As Brienne did when Renly accepted her onto his Rainbow Guard, Brienne nearly cried with
happiness. Then Jaime returned drunk from his night at the inn with Tyrion. He fell into bed with
Brienne and turned his back to her.

When Brienne awoke the next morning, the bed was empty and cold under her outstretched arm. It
hadn’t taken too long to find Jaime. He was on the battlements watching the army preparing to
move out. That was when Brienne saw the distress in his eyes.

Did he only seek to stay with me because he worried at dishonoring me? Have I selfishly made him
feel obligated to stay?

After the army moved out, Jaime seemed uneasy and withdrawn. To her face, Jaime would smile,
but there was a spark missing from his eyes that seemed to be there days prior. Try as she might,
Brienne could not seem to make him happy.

Brienne’s memories were interrupted by Jaime’s approach to the table. He sat quietly opposite
Brienne and offered a small smile. It seemed as forced as his continued presence at Winterfell.

“You left earlier than usual today.”

Pushing around the uneaten porridge in her bowl, Brienne cleared her throat and tried to push away
the nagging voice in her head reminding her of all that she wasn’t compared to Jaime’s true love.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I might eat and make myself useful for the day.”

Jaime watched the path of Brienne’s spoon as she dragged it back and forth across the bland food.

Brienne tried to think of something to say that might lift Jaime’s spirts. Anything to take his mind
off the fighting to the south. It was moments like that in which Brienne wished she had Jaime’s
wit, Pod’s affability, or Tormund’s knack for storytelling… even if the stories themselves were a
bit weird.

“One of the shifts saw the first signs of thaw. The ice is receding from the riverbed. Mayhap in a
few moon turns we may even see the grass and flowers return. Then you might not think it’s so
dreary.”

Jaime snorted and rolled his eyes. “Gods, I hate the fucking North. I certainly never needed to have
such conversation in the south. The weather just stayed decent to begin with.”

Stupid. What was I thinking? I hope he doesn’t think that I expect him to stay here that long with
me.

“Of course. I didn’t mean… never mind.”

An awkward silence fell over them before Brienne inquired what Jaime might do for the day. As
always, he shrugged and did a poor job of hiding his boredom. No one at Winterfell would trust
Jaime to assist with restoration efforts or other odd jobs around the castle.

Jaime spent his time with Brienne and Pod, or he watched the workers hustle about, repairing the
damaged castle. They spoke of trivial topics for a while longer until Brienne took her leave to find
Lady Sansa. It was later that day when the missive arrived from the south.

Jaime

Jaime had awoken as he did most mornings; alone. Stretching out his arm, he felt Brienne’s side of
the bed colder than usual. He remembered Brienne being an early riser during their journey
through the Riverlands. It was almost comical to think back on the earliest days of their
relationship now.

Gods. I was a proper ass. How did she not kill me off then?

Just as Jaime had tormented Brienne on their journey south, Brienne had tormented Jaime’s mind
and soul every day since. He knew that something had shifted between them after their capture by
Locke. A hand, a bear, a sword. It was as though Brienne was imprinted into his heart and soul.

Jaime had sent Brienne away from King’s Landing with a sword, a squire and his heart. He needed
her to guard his heart as desperately as Pod needed saving and Sansa needed finding. Every day
they were apart, Jaime dreamed of her. Sapphire eyes plagued his dreams and clouded his thinking.

Try as Jaime might to push Brienne from his daily thoughts, he couldn’t. He had admitted it to
himself at Riverrun, that what he felt for Brienne went well beyond a comradery forged out of
shared trauma. When she stood before him in the tent, he accepted it for what it truly was. Love.

When Brienne tried to return Oathkeeper, it felt a rejection of his love for her. It all felt so clear in
the moment, and a part of Jaime wanted to leave it all behind and follow her. He would have
followed her to the ends of the world and back again, but he didn’t. He watched her leave in a boat
just as he watched her leave on horseback years prior.

Then Brienne put herself back into harm’s way. When she stood in the dragonpit mere feet from
Cersei, Jaime felt as though he couldn’t breathe. The woman he thought himself in love for most of
his life glared at the woman he would love for the rest of his days. Jaime had tried to ignore
Brienne, but he always felt an overwhelming pull when she was near.
At first, he thought Brienne safe. Cersei stormed off towards the Keep and Jaime followed like the
beaten dog he was. Then Brienne grabbed his arm and shook him from his stupor. ‘Fuck loyalty.’

He had already known that going north wasn’t an option, it was a mandate. Jaime couldn’t allow
the woman he loved to stand before death itself without him at her side. Surviving the war with the
dead was not something Jaime expected to happen. When the dead thing charged out of the box,
Jaime knew he was soon to join its ranks.

All Jaime wanted was to honor the pledge he made and die in the arms of the woman he loved. He
had not expected Brienne to vouch for him. He had not expected to survive the war. He had not
expected to be with her.

Jaime had tried to find a way to win Brienne’s affections. After following her around for days
before the dead arrived, Jaime realized how little he knew about her. That was when he found an
unlikely ally in Pod.

Pod was a never-ending source of information on all things Brienne. It didn’t take much to get the
information out of Pod; only a slight hit to Jaime’s pride and some cups of ale.

Pod was far more perceptive than Jaime gave him credit for. Apparently, Jaime’s pining after
Brienne was as pathetic as Tyrion made it seem. The young man confronted Jaime on it when
Jaime approached in a pitiful attempt to casually obtain information on Brienne.

‘I had an idea when you were staring at her in the yards. I knew it when you knighted her.’

Things had been going well at the feast until Tyrion arrived at the table with his stupid game. His
younger brother had confronted Jaime earlier that day on his lack of progress with Brienne. Tyrion
seemed in need of a distraction, and Jaime’s love life seemed to be it.

‘You’re a virgin.’

Jaime cringed inwardly and glanced to Brienne. When he saw Brienne’s face fall, Jaime wanted to
throw Tyrion from the highest battlement.

It was unclear if his brother meant to help or hurt his effort to woo Brienne, but he was definitely
not helping. What Jaime had not expected, was everything that came after.

Taking more wine to Brienne’s room, any planned declarations of love went by the wayside when
he looked into her eyes. His mouth went dry and his tongue felt tied in a knot. He was nervous and
bumbling, but not drunk.

Frustrated at his inability to convey what was screaming its way through his heart, Jaime felt
jealousy take over and defensiveness kick in. A need to protect his own heart won out, and he
rambled nonsense as he fumbled with his clothing.

Everything felt like his first time. He didn’t think that Brienne was drunk or incapable of making
clear-minded decisions. He let his heart’s desire take over as he crashed his lips into hers.

Lying in bed afterwards, Jaime felt guilt sink in. He began to question how much wine Brienne
had. A sudden awareness of his actions weighed on him and Jaime worried that he had betrayed
Brienne. He had taken the maidenhead of the most honorable, incredible, amazing woman in
Westeros, and he had not spoken a single loving word before or during the act.

Jaime reconciled that he would confess his love the next day. If Brienne returned his love, he
would drag her before any god she wanted and say his vows. The next day however, Brienne
seemed distant.

He slipped from the room to get her something to eat and drink, but when he returned, she was
gone. The sheets had been torn from the bed and piled onto the floor. His heart sank and once
more, he decided to guard his heart rather than bare his soul.

Desperate to try a different approach, Jaime asked if he could stay. With more time, perhaps he
could win her over and put forth a better effort than the night of the feast. When she agreed and
seemed happy for it, Jaime felt a spark of hope.

There were days that Jaime wondered if he had died in the battle and it was all a dream. It seemed
too good to be true. He was free from Cersei’s clutches and with the woman he loved. Then reality
set in when Bronn arrived. The words had sent a chill down Jaime’s spine.

‘… maybe a few of her top generals get picked off…’ Brienne.

Jaime couldn’t lose her. While Jaime doubted Bronn would follow through with Cersei’s orders, he
also knew that Cersei would send more assassins north. She would not rest until everything and
everyone that Jaime loved was gone from this world. The reality of the situation took hold.

I’ve ruined the best thing in this world. Everything I touch goes to shit. Brienne would be better off
without me. Now she is being targeted because of my selfishness and need to be around her.

As much as Jaime tried to be in the moment with Brienne, his mind constantly wandered. He saw
threats around every corner and heard Cersei’s calls. It was time for him to die in atonement for his
sins.

‘How do you know there is an after?’

Bran’s ominous words brought Jaime back to the strange young man in the wheelchair. The
missive had arrived from the south and Sansa’s implication was clear. Cersei was a hateful woman
and deserved to die.

Unfortunately, Cersei was also gaining the upper hand. Without intervention, Cersei might win and
then Brienne wouldn’t be safe.

As Jaime stood before Bran, he met the boy’s eyes. “You asked me how I knew there was an after.
Am I meant to die with Cersei to atone for my sins? I’ll go south. I’ll kill Cersei to keep Brienne
safe. To keep you all safe.”

Bran stared at Jaime blankly before responding. “You’ll be the death of her.”

My twin. I’ve done horrible things for Cersei. She’s a hateful woman and she’ll kill everyone to get
her way. I have to kill her to keep Brienne safe. If I die in the process, it may be for the best.
Brienne deserves someone as good as she is. Someone who she loves in return. Not some old,
cripple known for fucking his own sister.

Jaime was at war with himself all day. He didn’t want to leave Brienne, but if he stayed and Cersei
won, Brienne would not be safe. Jaime needed to ensure Cersei did not survive the war. Bran’s
words echoed in his mind. I need to kill Cersei. It must be by my hand.

It was likely that Cersei and Daenerys would kill each other and take all of King’s Landing with
them, but Jaime couldn’t take the risk. He needed to see it done, even if it meant his own death.
Before committing his second selfless act to save King’s Landing, he had one final act of
selfishness.
Tugging Brienne into her room, Jaime made love to her twice before she fell asleep. He needed to
tell Brienne through his body what he could not give voice to. His love. Sitting before the fire
before finding the courage to leave, Jaime felt as though he was leaving his soul behind as well.
 Stay and Leave
Chapter Summary

Brienne asked Jaime to stay, but Jaime must leave.

Brienne

‘Stay with me. Please.’

It was the first time in Brienne’s adult life that she asked for something with selfish intent.
Everything else was always requested in service to another. Brienne had long accepted that she
would never have another’s affection nor love. She was meant to serve as a human shield and
nothing more.

Her request was the closest thing to a love confession that Brienne could muster without
destroying herself in the process. She felt like a desperate fool the moment the words left her
mouth. If words were tangible things, Brienne wished to reel them back in with her hands.

From a young age, Brienne discovered that it mattered little what she desired. She wanted to be
accepted, but she was outcast. She wanted to be pretty, but she was ugly. She wanted to be
respected, but she was mocked. More than anything, she wanted to be loved, but she was
unlovable.

Standing before the only man that Brienne had ever given herself entirely to, she felt vulnerable
and exposed. It was as though she was bleeding out before him and all Jaime could do was talk
about his sister. His other half. His true love.

Jaime was never meant to be hers and she knew that, but she raged at herself for not being enough
to save him. With the depths of her soul, Brienne felt him a good man.

I can’t save him if he can’t see his worth. He sees his soul in the same light that Westeros sees me.
Ugly. Unworthy. Unlovable. The difference is that his perception of self is false.

It was too embarrassing to love him in such an obvious way. Rather than say anything more, she
had watched him ride away to death. It hurt to know that death seemed a better option than staying
with her.

I’m simply that miserable to be with that someone would rather die. It’s my fault.

Brienne stood in the courtyard with her head hanging in shame for some time. It wasn’t until her
feet grew numb from the snowing melting into her boots that she moved. The night was a blur. An
array of emotions fought for dominance in Brienne’s mind; each more self-loathing than the last.

When the sun came up, Brienne realized that she had not taken rest. Lady Sansa would be
expecting her, and she needed to honor her vows to the young woman. It was the only thing more
powerful than her instinct to care for herself.

I’m a sworn sword first. A woman with wants second. I must do to my duty and honor my vows to
Lady Sansa. It’s the one thing that I can’t fail at. It’s the only thing that I’m good at.
It was then that Brienne realized her failure. When she saw Jaime in the courtyard, she knew it was
her duty to inform Lady Sansa, but she couldn’t. In her heart, Brienne knew that all Jaime wanted
was to die with Cersei; the only woman he ever loved.

If I knew that he was in King’s Landing alone and waiting for death, I would ride to him too. How
could I deny him that with Cersei?

When Sansa dismissed her, Brienne felt hollow. The only thing Brienne felt useful for was deemed
insufficient. She could not disagree with Sansa’s determination and Brienne would honor the
decision. If anything, she considered herself lucky that the young woman spared her life.

I would have honored my word and given my head. She does me a kindness in her own way, though
I’m certain Essos wishes she would have taken my head. Now they’ll be doomed to look upon me
as Westeros has.

Westeros. The thought of her father on Tarth flashed in Brienne’s mind. She replayed the last
conversation she had with him before leaving for Renly’s war.

“Thrice I’ve tried to find you a match, and thrice I have failed. I let you train with the sword, and
you took advantage of that kindness by beating the last match willing to have you to a bloody pulp.
Don’t return to Tarth unless you intend to do your duty.”

Making her way back to her room, Brienne stepped inside and sat on the edge of the bed. She had
failed Lady Sansa, and, in the process, she failed Lady Catelyn.

I was selfish. I failed Jaime. I failed Sansa. I failed Lady Stark. I failed Renly. Everyone who comes
near me is cursed. Pod. I’ve failed him too. He deserves knighthood and I can’t even give him that.
I’m a disgraced knight. No… not a knight. It’s as the men said. Just a whore only knighted by a
man in desperate need of distraction.

The sight of Oathkeeper hanging dutifully by the fireplace caught her eye. It was piece of herself
that once felt worthy. When she gripped the hilt of Oathkeeper, she felt like a woman with a
purpose.

It was a gift from a man who meant the world to Brienne, and he entrusted to her to carry out a
shared oath. Brienne would have gladly given her life for Sansa’s, but now she may have
compromised the young woman’s life.

When Jaime told her to keep the sword at Riverrun, it felt like more. For a brief moment, Brienne
imagined he was willingly offering a piece of himself through the sword.

Gods. How pathetic am I. Thinking he meant anything more than offering a piece of steel that I
may do my job. He’s a good man. What was he going to do? Take it back? I had just told him that I
would be fighting for Sansa’s home and by consequence, her life.

Brienne stood from the edge of the bed and gathered her meager belongings. In her sack, Brienne
threw inside her smallclothes, her tunics, breeches, and the cloths for her moonblood.

My moonblood. Gods. When did I last bleed? I know it was before the dead came, but when? Seven
hells. I’ve missed it.

A slight panic set in as Brienne calculated backwards. Her last moonblood was a fortnight before
the Long Night. It had been six weeks and she had not considered the absence of her moonblood.
The realization added to Brienne’s vexation with herself.
After packing her meager belongings, Brienne took one final look at the room she had called home
for years. The room she was afforded after Lady Sansa reclaimed Winterfell. The room she came
to after being knighted. The room she gave herself to Jaime in. The room she betrayed everyone by
crying in the dark rather than alerting the guards or stopping Jaime herself.

Brienne slung the sack over her shoulder before gathering her armor in hand. She wouldn’t need
her armor where she was going, but she would need to trade it for coin to afford passage to Essos.

With Oathkeeper strapped to her waist, Brienne felt weighed down. It wasn’t a physical effort to
carry it, but an emotional load that she struggled with.

It no longer felt as though Brienne was worthy of wearing the sword. Once outside, Brienne sought
out Pod. He deserved a true knight to squire for. Someone who could knight him without seeing
shame placed on the young man.

“Ser Brienne. Why do you have all of your things?”

Brienne turned around to see Pod walking slowly to her. His brows were knitted as he appraised her
pile of belongings. Glancing down to her things, Brienne forced a smile to her face.

“Hello Pod. I… I need to be going now. I was looking for you actually.”

At Brienne’s words, Pod’s face fell. A slightly panicked expression took hold of his features.

“I’ve failed in my oath to keep Lady Sansa safe. I was given strict orders and I did not follow them,
so I need to leave.”

Brienne paused to bite the inside of her cheek in a pathetic attempt to mask her emotions. She
needed to be strong for Pod and ensure he was alright.

“I am so sorry, Pod. I had hoped to knight you, but it should be by a worthy knight or sovereign.
Being knighted by me would only bring you shame, and I don’t want that for you.”

Brienne put her armor on the ground and began to unstrap Oathkeeper from her waist. Pod’s eyes
went wide in shock at the sight.

“My lady. Ser. Being knighted by you would be the greatest honor, but more than that, I want to go
with you.”

“No! Pod, please. You need to stay here. I need you to guard Lady Sansa on my behalf. Please,
honor the oath that I failed at.”

Placing Oathkeeper in Pod’s arms, Brienne forced another smile as the air left her lungs. She
closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. When she opened them to speak, she was surprised at
the despair on Pod’s face.

“Please, Pod. You’ve come so far. After all you’ve done, you deserve a proper knighting. I ask that
you honor the oath that I made to Lady Catelyn. Guard Lady Sansa as I would have. Please.”

Wrapping his hand around the sword and sword belt, Pod shook his head in refute. “Let me come
with you, Ser.”

Brienne took a deep breath. Where she was going, Pod could not follow. She needed to know that
he was safe and positioned to succeed in this world. Brienne would set sail to Essos with barely a
coin to her name and no proper skills befitting a woman. She could only hope to find a worthy
cause to fight for and not fail in it as she had failed in her oaths to Lady Sansa.

“You can’t, Pod. I’ll be fine, but you are needed here. Please, honor the oaths that I made. Use this
sword to guard Lady Sansa. She is a good woman and will need protection. I don’t feel she is safe
with some of these men. Will you do that for me?”

Pod nodded in acceptance and met her eyes. “Yes, Ser. Will you write when you get home?”

Home. I have no home.

“Of course.”

Unable to look at Pod a moment longer for fear of breaking down, Brienne picked up her amor and
turned towards the gates of Winterfell. It would be a long journey to White Harbor, the site of her
best chance to secure safe passage to Essos.

Approaching the gates of Winterfell, Brienne considered what little coin she had on her person.
Turning towards the stables, she approached and inquired after a horse.

“Excuse me. I was wondering if I might exchange coin for a horse. I’m to ride to White Harbor.”

The stable master looked Brienne over with disdain heavy on his features.

“How much do ya have?”

Putting down her armor, Brienne riffled through her coin purse. She had the equivalent of a single
Gold Dragon. From her experience, it should be enough for a proper horse.

Putting the coin in the man’s hand, he appraised it and nodded.

“Aye, this is enough for a horse.”

Brienne sighed in relief and offered a warm smile. “Thank you.”

Before she could inquire which horse would be agreeable, the man snorted.

“It’s enough to cover the horse ya Kingslayer stole off with last night. Unless ya got more coin in
there, out with ya. Kingslayer’s Whore.”

It was the first time that someone called Brienne that openly and it hurt twice as much as the japes
behind her back. She knew the man standing before her. He was a good, honest man who was
loyal to Lady Sansa.

During the battle with the dead, Brienne had fought beside his son and saved the young man’s life.
She had prayed to the Seven when the young man left with Jon that he would return safely.

Taking in the words, Brienne’s face fell. With a small nod, she picked up her armor and walked out
through the gates.

Now I have no coin and no horse. I hope the village will give me fair price for my armor.

Making her way towards Wintertown, Brienne felt tears at the back of her eyes. The cold northern
air pulled the tears towards the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill anew.

Do not cry. Pathetic. Keep your head up and your mouth shut. You did this to yourself. If Lady
Sansa was cruel, your head would be on a spike.
Arriving at Wintertown, Brienne made her way towards the local blacksmith. He was a good man
who had an eye for fine weaponry and armor. When she first visited Wintertown years ago on
orders from Lady Sansa, Brienne met the man and struck up a friendly acquaintance with him.

He had noticed her armor then and his words rang fresh in her mind.

“Some fine armor ya got there, m’lady. I’ve not seen its likes in some time. Where did ya get it? I
know many a man would pay hefty coin for something as that.”

Making her way into the shop, Brienne spotted the man she had spoken with on many occasions
over the years.

“Hello Balen. How are you?”

The man looked at Brienne with knitted brows. “M’lady. What do ya need?”

Swallowing thickly, Brienne looked to the armor in her hands. It felt more than armor. It was now
the last thing she owned that Jaime had gifted her. Oathkeeper and Pod were safely at Winterfell,
honoring the oath that she failed at. Closing her eyes briefly, Brienne reminded herself why she
had to part with the last piece of Jaime.

You have no place here. You have no purpose. No loved ones. You failed them.

“I was hoping that I might see how much this armor could fetch me. Unfortunately, I need the coin
to follow out my last order to Lady Sansa.”

Balen huffed a bitter laugh and shook his head. “Ya have any idea how much armor I have in the
back room? So many dead from the battle with the dead and no fuckin’ soldiers left in need of it. I
can’t buy it.”

Brienne felt her heart drop. Realization hit her that she had no coin for food on the road, let alone
passage to Essos. Desperation kicked in as she looked to Balen.

“Please, anything. I wouldn’t ask for its value. Just anything you could offer.”

Balen sighed and shrugged. “I got a silver stag on me. That’s more than I should offer.”

The price felt like a sword to the heart. Brienne knew the armor was worth well more than that and
it felt yet another betrayal of Jaime. With a small nod, Brienne placed the armor on the counter and
hung her head in shame.

“Very well.”

Balen snorted. “Ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Truly? That armor for a stag? Fuck it. I’ll not look a gift
horse in the mouth.”

Throwing the coin at her, Brienne’s lips pressed together into a forced smile as she nodded in
thanks and left the shop. Brienne felt suffocated and she needed fresh air. She had given away the
only gifts she had ever received for the price of a stag.

Aside from the clothing at her back, the stag was all Brienne had left to her name. She would need
to do what she could on the way south to acquire abandoned goods to trade for coin at White
Harbor. If that approach did not work, she may need to consider offering services.

Brienne left the village after taking a final look back in the direction of Winterfell. Her stomach
lurched as reality set in.

I’m a woman alone with no armor or weaponry to protect myself. I’ve barely any coin to my name
and I’ve no one to travel with. Will anyone notice if I die?

Jaime

‘Stay with me. Please.’

The words ate away at what little remained of Jaime’s heart. He had wanted for nothing more than
to stay with Brienne. If he could, he would steal her away to Essos and leave behind the madness
of Westeros. Despite the desire, he could not.

He needed to kill his wretched twin or die trying. Cersei; the woman for whom he committed his
most heinous crimes. Still, Brienne’s words gnawed at him.

It was the first time that Brienne asked something of him not in the name of another.

‘Let me treat with the Blackfish’… for Lady Sansa

‘Let me take Sansa from King’s Landing’… for Lady Catelyn

Self-loathing wore at Jaime.

I couldn’t give her the one thing she asked for. ‘Stay with me.’ If only she understood how much I
don’t want to leave. How much I long to stay. I need to kill Cersei to keep her alive. To keep her
safe. Brienne is safe at Winterfell. Safe away from me.

Jaime prayed to the Seven that he could kill Cersei and get back to Brienne. He would spend every
day for the rest of his life staying. He would prove to her how much he never wanted to leave.

As the horse’s hooves stomped through the dampened northern soil, all Jaime could hear was
Pod’s rendition of Jenny’s Song. Sapphire eyes haunted his thoughts. Eyes he brought tears to.

Despite the pain, Jaime knew that he would gladly die so long as it was a death that ensured
Brienne’s safety. His only regret was leaving her in the courtyard crying.

Jaime contemplated if there was a way to ensure Brienne knew of his love in the event he didn’t
survive.

I should have written a note. I should have told Pod the words that I couldn’t tell her.

Jaime rode hard and with minimal breaks. It was a desperate effort to get to King’s Landing before
Jon’s army attacked. He knew they were bound to lay siege at any point, but Jaime prayed they
delayed as Daenerys collected herself at Dragonstone.

She lost a dragon. She lost her friend. Surely she won’t attack immediately. She needs to be smart
about it. Gods, let me get there and see this done.

At night, Jaime found little sleep. His dreams were haunted by images of Brienne alone in the
courtyard as he rode away to likely death. It was a cycle of exhaustion. Jaime would ride
throughout the day and attempt only a few hours of rest at night. He was weak and weary but
determined.
Get to King’s Landing. Kill Cersei. Find Brienne. Stay with Brienne.

When at least Jaime arrived at the outskirts of Jon’s camp, he was too delirious to consider his
approach. It was his golden hand that did him in.

The soldiers that approached assumed his intent was to return to his sister and save her. They
looked to him as they did throughout the entirety of his stay at Winterfell. Disgust.

Jaime was unceremoniously thrown into a tent and chained to a post. It felt eerily reminiscent of
his captivity at Robb Stark’s camp. Despite his intent, Jaime seemed destined to be a man
misunderstood. His actions forever villainized by Westeros without asking why.

Even Tyrion neglected to ask why. When his younger brother came into the tent, he also assumed
that Jaime meant to return to Cersei. He never once asked about Brienne.

‘How did they find you?’

Jaime had been half awake; weary from lack of sleep in his haste to get south.

Jaime raised his golden hand in response. He always was the stupidest Lannister. It seemed only
fitting that it would be his demise now.

‘You’re going to go back to her, to die with her.’

It hurt to hear Tyrion assume the worst in him. To assume he cared so little for Brienne.

Only a moon turn ago, my brother japed at how pathetic my pining for Brienne had been. Does he
truly think that I give my love so freely? Has he always thought so little of me deep down?

A terrible bitterness took root in Jaime’s core. The only person who understood him was Brienne;
the woman he left cold and crying in a courtyard in the North. Jaime let Tyrion think his
assumptions true.

What difference does any of this make. I’ve failed. Let Tyrion think what he wants. Whatever makes
me feel smart. Gods forbid he doesn’t feel like the smartest man alive.

Then Tyrion produced a key and said the one thing that made Jaime’s heart skip a beat.

“We both know that you care for one innocent.”

He truly thinks there’s a babe. While there isn’t, there is one innocent that I do care for above all
others. Brienne.

Jaime hadn’t the heart to tell Tyrion at Winterfell that the babe was a lie. He had not been with
Cersei in some time. If there was a babe, it wasn’t his, but Tyrion had seemed so downtrodden.

It was clear that a rift existed between him and his queen, so Jaime nodded and lied in a poor
attempt to let his brother salvage some semblance of confidence.

Jaime would do anything to make his brother feel like less of a failure. He knew the feeling all too
well and wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy. With a deep sigh, Jaime looked down to collect
himself.

Play to his lie. Agree to whatever he thinks. Kill Cersei. Get back to Brienne. Stay with Brienne.

Tyrion made his plea to Jaime. A boat. Cersei. Essos. Every sentence hurt more. Jaime had never
wanted to correct someone more than he did in that moment. He wanted to tell Tyrion how wrong
he was. How the only women he truly loved was at Winterfell.

If he thinks that I do all this for Cersei, why is he risking his life for me? He thinks that I’ve turned
on him. He thinks that I’ve turned on Brienne. Turned on everyone who only a moon turn earlier, I
fought beside.

When Tyrion told him why, it broke Jaime. The little boy he so often defended at the Rock had no
one else in this world.

Tyrion guaranteed his own death because he loved Jaime and truly thought that dying with Cersei,
or attempting to escape with her, was what Jaime wanted. Jaime hadn’t the heart to tell him the
truth then, just as he hadn’t the heart at Winterfell concerning the babe.

As the cuffs fell off his wrists, Jaime knew he may well be seeing his little brother for the last time.
The last opportunity to ensure that Brienne knew the truth of it was fading into the shadows as
Jaime crept from the tent.

If I told him the truth of it, the truth that my happiness is at Winterfell, Tyrion wouldn’t have
released me. He would have done anything to keep me safe so that I may return to Brienne. I can’t.
I need to kill Cersei. I need to find Brienne. I need to stay with Brienne.
 Love and Hate
Chapter Summary

Jaime gets to Cersei in the Keep while Brienne continues her journey south.

Chapter Notes

This chapter has a few warnings. It contains mention (and minor description) of a
miscarriage. This is also the chapter where Brienne dies (as the tags note). It's horrible
and the darkest thing that I've ever written (I HATED it), but it is important to note
that she does not stay dead. This is the lowest point of the fic by far. The next couple
of chapters are a bit angsty, but then it gets better. Still... I'm sorry. this is awful.

Jaime

Jaime ran through the tunnels below the Keep. It had been easy enough to weave through the city,
and his path to Cersei was unobscured. The tunnels were as he remembered, but the darkness
slowed his progress. From stories above, Jaime could hear war raging and a dragon’s battle cries.

Jaime had done as Tyrion asked. He rang the bell to signal the city’s surrender before finding his
way into the tunnels. Despite Jaime’s effort, the fighting had continued. The sound of war raging
above hardly surprised Jaime given the two women fighting for the crown.

When at last Jaime emerged from the bowels of the Keep, he stepped into the map room and saw
her. Cersei had never looked so small. So scared. So human. Her eyes were wide in terror as pieces
of the ceiling fell to the floor at her feet.

For a moment, Jaime hesitated. Memories of playing with his sister at Casterly Rock flashed in his
mind. Nights spent laying on the grass under the stars beside her tugged at his heart. She had not
always been a monster, but she had become one.

She is Aerys reborn. She and Daenerys deserve one another. They deserve the Seven Hells waiting
to swallow them whole.

As Cersei turned around, their eyes met. Shock flickered briefly in her eyes before desperation took
hold. Unexpectedly, Cersei ran to him. A choked sob echoed off the map room was as she collided
into him.

She thinks that I mean to save her.

The cries of the dragon circling the Keep above intensified and Jaime pushed Cersei from him.
Realization flashed in her eyes and any softness on her face was gone as rage took hold.

“You took too long.”

It was a phrase that Jaime heard from her lips once before; seemingly a lifetime ago. A deadly
anger began to pool in his gut as he stared into Cersei’s eyes. Unable to look away, Jaime spoke
from the heart.

“I did take too long. I took too long to see you for what you are.”

Cersei’s eyes glowed like wildfire. Her face contorted in fury as she slapped Jaime hard across the
face.

“I should have let the Mountain kill you when I had the chance. It’s her, isn’t it? That fucking cow.
I saw it on your pathetic face that day in the dragonpit. I saw it when you returned from Riverrun
after letting her past siege lines. I saw it when you returned from the Riverlands with missing a
hand. I should have sent more than Bronn. When I get out of this Keep, I will send everything at
her. You can moon over her rotting carcass.”

Jaime’s hand slid up towards Cersei’s throat. Hesitating for only a moment, Jaime’s fingers
encircled Cersei’s pale throat. A pair of sapphire eyes danced in his mind as Cersei’s threats
reminded Jaime of why he was there. Then he recalled Bran’s words.

‘You’ll be the death of her.’ I must kill Cersei. I’ll return to Brienne. I’ll stay with Brienne.

Pushing Cersei back against a marble column at the corner of the map room, Jaime’s grip
tightened. Shock flashed in Cersei’s eyes as his hold tightened. Leaning into her face, Jaime spoke
through gritted teeth.

“I will choose her every time. She is my other half. She is my love. Not you.”

A strangled sob pushed passed Cersei’s lips as her hands came to his arms. Time seemed to still
around them as Jaime looked over Cersei’s shoulder. The ceiling began to fall in larger sections
around them, but Jaime needed to feel life leave Cersei’s body before he could let go.

Find Brienne. Stay with Brienne.

As Cersei’s body stopped twitching beneath his grip, Jaime pulled back his face. It was only then
that he realized he was crying.

Letting go of Cersei’s lifeless body, Jaime staggered backwards. A large piece of the ceiling fell
only a foot from him. As the stone clattered to the floor, Jaime realized the danger he was in.

Snapped from his trance, Jaime turned to flee. The Keep shook slightly, and a dragon cried out in
rage. Its cries filled the room around them and seemed to destabilize the room further.

More pieces of the ceiling fell to the floor. As the stone crashed around him, smaller chunks broke
away and bounced into Jaime’s legs as he ran.

Reaching the opposite end of the room, something hit Jaime’s head with a sickening thud.
Everything went black and the last thing in Jaime’s mind was a pair of sapphire eyes staring back
at him.

I love you, Brienne.

Brienne
It had been nearly two moon turns since Brienne left Winterfell on foot. As she passed through
villages, rumors swirled of the destruction in King’s Landing. No one knew much except that the
two queens had stopped at nothing to destroy one another.

Wildfire and dragonfire consumed the city. Daenerys Targaryen’s forces won, but at the cost of
King’s Landing. Both queens had made Aerys seem sane by comparison.

It was unclear what was currently happening in the capital, but from what little Brienne heard, both
queens were dead and the lords paramount had been summoned for a council.

Brienne prayed to the Seven for the Stark family. She prayed that Jon and Arya survived. She
prayed that Sansa would be safe.

Then Brienne thought of Jaime. She remembered his warm smiles and soft eyes. She remembered
the feeling of his embrace and the sound of his laughter.

Please let him be alive. Let him mourn his sister and find true happiness and love.

Brienne had little awareness for her proximity to White Harbor. The journey had been grueling,
and Brienne was both physically and emotionally exhausted. Her clothes were beginning to sag, as
she caught little game to eat.

The nights were cold and Brienne’s thinning body offered little protection from the elements.
Gathering kindling for a fire, Brienne felt a familiar cramping in her pelvis. When Brienne went
into the woods to make water, it was then that she noticed the blood.

A wave of emotions crested over Brienne as she recalled the last time she bled. Mere days after she
left Winterfell, Brienne felt an intense pain like nothing she previously endured with past
moonbloods. She had stopped midday to take rest, as she found it unbearable to walk.

By that point, her previous moondblood had been 7 weeks prior. It was evident that she carried
Jaime’s babe. When she sold her armor, Brienne thought it the last piece of Jaime left to her. It
seemed she had been wrong.

Brienne had mused that it was not the first time Jaime left someone in her charge. As frightened as
she was, Brienne committed to raising the babe to know nothing but love.

She would protect the little one to her last breath. It was never what she intended, but Brienne
would do everything she could for the child. Her last piece of Jaime.

Mayhap I will finally have someone to love me. Mayhap this babe won’t see me as the rest of the
world does.

Then the cramps began, and Brienne knew.

I’ve failed again. I’ve failed this babe as I’ve failed Jaime. Mayhap it is best that Jaime never
knew. It would be one less inadequacy for him to hold against me.

The pain had been excruciating and the amount of blood that Brienne lost was worrisome. For
hours, Brienne thought she might die on the forest floor. When at last the bleeding and cramping
subsided, Brienne couldn’t bring herself to wash the breeches she soiled. She dug a hole in the
ground with her hands and discarded the garments.

For days after, the dirt under her nails served as a cruel reminder of what she lost. The remnant
bleeding mocked her every time she stopped to make water or change her moonblood cloths.
Down to her last pair of breeches, Brienne had continued forward under Sansa’s orders. As she
walked through the thawing landscape, Brienne lamented that the babe had been her last chance at
companionship.

Brienne feared the nighttime the most. The nights were cold and lonely; a harsh reminder of the
lack of warmth and love in her life. Every night Brienne curled close to the fire and tried to
imagine a world where she could be someone else.

Sleep was difficult to come by given she had no one to tend the campfire with. When Brienne did
find sleep, her dreams were haunted by her many failures. Soon, Brienne found it easier to avoid
sleep altogether. It seemed to hurt less than the visions she saw behind her closed lids.

As her strength faded from lack of sleep and food, Brienne pressed on. She held onto the one silver
stag in her sack as a savings for White Harbor. She would need more still, but Brienne hoped to
earn some coin before reaching the port city.

Eating what little she could find in way of berries and vegetation, Brienne began to slip in and out
of consciousness over the last fortnight. The roads were getting more dangerous to travel as
soldiers returning from King’s Landing made their way north.

Most of the men didn’t recognize Brienne as she begged for scraps of food. She was glad of it, as
she felt like little more than an undesirable camp follower. The only thing worse was when the
men did recognize her. They looked to Brienne in confusion before throwing stale bread at her and
continuing forward.

That evening as Brienne padded her smallclothes with cloth for her moonblood, Brienne cried
quietly at the reminder of her empty womb. Curling onto her side, Brienne struggled to remain
awake as her body began to succumb to weeks of limited sustenance and a miscarriage.

When Brienne next opened her eyes, she heard approaching voices. The sun’s first rays were
poking through the heavily wooded area around her. Brienne was nearly frozen to the ground as
her fire appeared to have gone out some hours earlier.

Gods. How long did I sleep for?

Forcing herself to sit upright, Brienne’s entire body cried out in protest. Her limbs hurt and her
extremities were numb. She saw a dozen men step into the small clearing off the main road.

Brienne reprimanded herself for camping so close to the main road, but she had been so tired and
desperate for food from passing soldiers that she ignored the danger.

I know these men. These are the Bolton men.

“Fuckin’ hells! Look who it is boys! The Kingslayer’s Whore.”

Struggling to stand, Brienne tried to focus her eyes. Brienne could feel the threat settling over the
small clearing.

I need to flee.

As if sensing her thoughts, the men lunged forward and tackled her violently to the forest floor.
Rough hands and feet landed blows to her ribs, face, and stomach. Curling into a ball, Brienne tried
to will them away, but they only grew more violent.

“Fuckin’ whore! Ya almost cost us the war!”

A man’s foul-smelling breath assaulted her nose as his face pressed close. “This the best ya got!?
Ya can’t fight worth shit. No wonder no one knighted ya before the Kingslayer.”

A third man’s voice filled the air. He laughed loudly before joining in the assault against her. “She
ain’t no knight! Kill the fuckin’ bitch. Show ‘er what she’s worth.”

The blows came harder. Mirroring the physical assault, each taunt came crueler and more vicious
than the next. Brienne wanted to cry, but she had no tears left. After losing Jaime and the babe, she
felt hollow, unloved, and alone.

Eventually the assault stopped, and Brienne thought they had grown bored of attacking a nearly
lifeless body. Then she felt the rope around her neck. The men hauled her to her feet and dragged
her towards a tree. They placed something around her, but Brienne was too weak to recognize what
it was.

It felt impossible to stay upright, but rough hands kept her in place. Within moments, Brienne felt
herself being hoisted from the ground. The men tied off the rope and stepped back to watch her
flailing limbs reaching out desperately for aid.

Please. Help. I can’t breathe.

As laughter filled the space around her, a pair of green eyes flashed in her mind. They seemed
happy and alive, but then they landed on her and the joy within them died.

Stay with me. Please. Don’t let me die alone.

The eyes turned away from Brienne and all she could hear was the men’s laughter. As the air left
her lungs and her limbs began to still, Brienne felt the Stranger’s arms wrapping around her.

I just wanted to be loved.

 Life and Death
Chapter Summary

Jaime sees the consequences of his actions.

Jaime

Jaime stood in the Red Keep surrounded by dust and destruction. Waving his flesh hand before his
face to push away the smoke, he squinted into the distance. Voices echoed off the walls around
him as Jaime tried to gather his bearings.

Looking up, Jaime could see light streaming in through the breaks in the ceiling. Smoke obscured
much of the air, but enough filtered through to illuminate the room.

Seven hells. How big was that bloody brick? This room didn’t look this bad when I killed Cersei.

As Jaime glanced down, his eyes went wide in shock. There at his feet was his own body. Blood
trickled down his temple as his body lay motionless and covered in debris on the floor.

I’m dead. I didn’t make it out.

“This is your after, Ser Jaime.”

Turning around to confront the voice he knew all too well, Jaime’s eyes went wide. He was face to
face with Brandon Stark.

Seven hells. He can walk!

“Bran. Are we dead? I thought you were at Winterfell?”

Bran smiled slightly and shook his head. “No, we’re not dead. You could have died, but you’re
alive; just rather unconscious. I imagine you’re going to have quite the headache when you wake
up.”

A wave of relief washed over Jaime.

“Thank the gods. How are you here? Is this a dream?”

Bran moved closer and stared down at Jaime’s body. “No, this is real. It’s the only way that I could
show you.”

“Show me what?”

At Jaime’s question, the voices he had heard only moments earlier grew louder. Emerging from the
dust, Jaime saw Tyrion, Jon, and Arya. They looked as though they walked through the seven hells
and back again.

All three seemed exhausted and downtrodden. It was Arya who spoke first.

“Jon. You can’t support her after this. You see what she did to the city. We all could have died.”
At her side, Jon sighed and looked around the room in dismay. “What are you asking of me, Arya?
I… I can’t abandon her. She is my queen.”

Gods. I knew it. The boy is in love with her.

Tyrion had wandered off from the pair of bickering siblings. His eyes seemed to be searching for
something in the destruction. When Tyrion caught sight of Cersei, he gasped and approached
slowly.

Reaching his sister’s lifeless body, Tyrion outstretched his hand to Cersei’s pale, cold skin.
Trembling fingers felt for a pulse that was not there. His head hung as he felt nothing but death.

“She’s here. Jaime didn’t make it to her in time.”

It was then that Jaime remembered the lie he played into. Striding quickly across the room to
Tyrion, Jaime reached out to grab his brother’s shoulder.

“I’m here Tyrion. Her death was by my hand.”

Jaime’s hand went through Tyrion’s body as though a fog cutting across tree limbs. Moving to his
side, Bran spoke impassively.

“If you recall, your body is behind you. He can’t hear you. These are visions of what happened.”

Jon and Arya joined Tyrion and appraised Cersei’s body. While Jon looked sympathetically at
Tyrion, Arya’s brows knitted in confusion. Her eyes squinted as she assessed Cersei’s body.
Crouching at Tyrion’s side, her fingers traced Cersei’s neck.

“I think he got to her in time. She was strangled.”

At Arya’s nonchalant statement, Tyrion’s head turned quickly to her. “What!? How do you know?”

Arya snorted and looked around. “There isn’t a single puncture wound. There is no blood nor sign
of trauma from falling debris. Her neck already has signs of bruising. Look at the fingerprints. A
left hand did this.”

The young wolf pulled back one of Cersei’s eyelids to reveal a bloodshot eye. “Look. She was
strangled Tyrion. He got here. You said he rang the bells, but the boat is still out there, and Cerise
is quite dead here.”

Tyrion ran a hand through his hair as his jaw slackened. “No, someone else did this. Jaime came to
save her. He came all this way…”

Jon sighed and looked to Tyrion. “We searched the tunnels. As Arya said, the boat is untouched.
Mayhap Ser Jaime got out in time after killing her. Mayhap it was another lefthanded soldier who
killed her, and your brother is in the city somewhere. He wouldn’t have been able to get back out
though.”

Standing and backing up slowly, Tyrion shook his head in disbelief. “No… Jaime wouldn’t have.
He… he loved…”

Jaime’s frustration was its tipping point as he watched Tyrion struggle to see the obvious.
“Brienne! Gods, Tyrion! I love Brienne.”

Tyrion tripped over some debris and nearly fell to the ground. As his body twisted and his arm
reached out for purchase, Tyrion caught sight of something. Once he righted himself, his eyes
locked in on Jaime’s body in the distance.

“No! Gods, please.”

Stumbling towards Jamie, Tyrion fell to his knees. His hands came to each side of Jaime’s face as
his forehead touched Jaime’s. With a loud sob, Tyrion pulled Jaime’s head onto his lap. Arya and
Jon approached as Jaime and Bran watched on.

“He thinks I’m dead.”

Bran hummed slightly and shrugged. “You rather look it. Thank the gods you have a hard head.”

As if expecting a response, Tyrion looked down at his brother’s motionless body. He threw debris
from Jaime’s body and he screamed in mix of despair and rage. “Jaime. What have you done?!”

At Tyrion’s question, Jaime scoffed. “Did you hear nothing that I said at Winterfell!? I was done
with Cersei. I love Brienne. Why does everyone have so little faith in me?”

Jon and Arya crouched at Tyrion’s side. They felt for a pulse and exchanged shocked looks.

“Tyrion. He’s alive.”

Jon’s words breathed new hope into Tyrion. He placed his head to Jaime’s chest; a strangled sob
pushed passed his lips. “You idiot. You fucking idiot, Jaime! Why?”

“Why!? Now you ask ‘why’!? For Brienne!”

As Jaime screamed from beside Bran, a slight murmur escaped Jaime’s body just a few feet away.
It was barely discernable, but Jaime heard it from behind the battle-weary trio before him.

“Brienne.”

Bran snorted and raised a brow. “I wonder if that will make it clear enough. The things you do for
love.”

Moving closer, Jaime’s brows knitted as he watched his near lifeless form continue to mumble
Brienne’s name repeatedly. A small smile spread across his face as he watched realization dawn on
Tyrion’s face.

“Gods. How could I have missed it? Brienne. I need to get him to Brienne.”

Arya rolled her eyes at Tyrion. “At this moment, he appears more likely to greet the Stranger than
Brienne. Perhaps we start by getting him out of here before Daenerys feeds him to her dragon.”

Jon leaned down and appraised Jaime’s head and body. “Aye, Arya has the right of it. We need to
get him to that boat or hidden somewhere. He needs a maester.”

Arya glanced back at Cersei and shook her head. “We need to think this through. We either tell
Daenerys the truth of his involvement and hope she believes us, or we swear the army to silence
that he never arrived south.”

“No. Her men were there. The Unsullied were guarding Jaime when I let him go free. I’m already a
dead man, but I can save my brother. I can ensure he gets to Brienne. To happiness.”

Jaime felt panic rise. “No! No! Bran, can’t you do something!? Tyrion needs to leave. She’ll kill
him.”

Shaking his head, Bran sighed. “They can’t hear us.”

“They just heard me when I said Brienne’s name! Mayhap I just need to shout again.” Jaime
dropped to Tyrion’s side and looked to him frantically.

“Tyrion! Run! Please, run!”

Looking at his body, Jaime wanted to cry when it seemed to do little more than take shallow
breaths and mutter Brienne’s name.

“These events already happened. I’m showing you the past.”

Before Jaime could question Bran’s statement, Arya spoke at Tyrion’s side. “I have an idea. I’ll kill
Daenerys.”

Jon stepped back as if slapped. “Arya, no. You can’t. They’ll kill you for it and I can’t… I can’t let
you do that.”

Tyrion stood and looked to Jon. “You’re the rightful king, not her. You saw what she did out there.
We both chose her, and we were wrong. The people of King’s Landing did not choose her, but they
suffered for our decisions.”

Rightful king?

Jaime turned to Bran who stood impassively at his back. It was as though he knew how it would all
play out before it did.

Shaking his head in refute, Jon took another step away; his face was riddled with pain. “No. I can’t
justify what she did, but the war is over now. I can talk to her. Get her to see reason. I won’t let
harm befall Ser Jaime. You have my word. It seems that he aided our cause and mayhap once she
sees for herself...”

With a frustrated sigh, Tyrion shook his head and cut off Jon. “Did you see that look on her face
when the bells rang? Did that look like someone done fighting? Jaime rang the bells. She didn’t
stop despite the Lannister army standing down. Fire and blood. That is what she is.”

Arya grabbed Jon’s arm. “Tyrion has the right of it. You are the rightful king. Let me do this. I was
down there among the people, Jon. She wasn’t torching the enemy. She was aiming at everyone in
her path. Her only goal was death and destruction.”

“She was upset! Her dragon was killed before her eyes. Her friend was beheaded in front of her.”
Jon’s frustration was palpable. Jaime’s eyes darted between Jon, Arya, and Tyrion. It was Tyrion
who spoke next, but much more calmly than moments earlier.

“Would you have done it? If those things happened to you, would you have done that to King’s
Landing? My brother strangled his twin, the woman he loved for most of his life, to stop her from
killing innocents. What of you, Aegon?”

Aegon?

“Bran, why did my brother call Jon that? What is going on outside the Keep?”

Bran’s voice floated through the space as though they were the only two there. “In time, Ser Jaime.
Not now.”

Jon’s voice drew Jaime’s attention back to the trio standing near his body. “What are you thinking
Arya? I won’t let you endanger yourself. They’ll kill you.”

A wolfish smile stretched across her face. “I won’t be killing her. Cersei will. I just need you to
pretend at killing Cersei. Make it seem real. Take her body and bring it before the Unsullied. Make
them believe.”

Without another word, Arya withdrew her blade and walked over to Cersei’s lifeless body. Bending
down, she began to cut away at something. Jaime’s eyes went wide as he looked to Jon and Tyrion
who looked equally perplexed.

Glancing back at Bran, Jaime watched as the boy’s expression shifted from blank to amused.
Turning back around, Jaime gasped and stumbled backwards. Standing before them was Cersei. As
he tripped over his own body, Bran’s arms caught him.

“Need a hand?”

Jaime felt his heart hammering in his chest as he forced his eyes back at Cersei.

Gods. Arya is a Faceless Man.

“I don’t want to see this. I can’t.”

While Cersei had died by Jaime’s hand, he had not defiled her body in such a way. He wanted
nothing to do with what came next.

Bran spun Jaime around and met his eyes. “You’ll remain ignorant to this, because now you need
to understand why I’m here. I need you to see the true impact of your actions. Cersei’s death would
have happened with or without you here to see the life drain from her eyes.”

“What do you mean. You told me that I would be the death of her.”

Jaime’s brows knitted in confusion. He tried to read Bran’s features, but the boy’s face gave away
nothing.

“Wrong her. Close your eyes.”

Jaime hesitated slightly, but he followed Bran’s instructions. Everything around him felt still. For a
moment, he wondered if Bran had left. Then Jaime heard Bran’s voice again.

“She was never safe here. Open your eyes.”

Jaime opened his eyes. Shock coursed through him as he realized where he was.

Winterfell.

Then Jaime saw her. Brienne walked past him and towards the hall. Judging by the poor light
filtering in through the windows, Jaime knew it to be early morning.

“Brienne! Wait!”

Moving after her, Jaime felt a hand at his shoulder. “She can’t hear you. Like the aftermath of
battle in King’s Landing, these are visions of the past.”
Bran guided Jaime forward and into the hall. Only a handful of soldiers shuffled about, breaking
their fast. He watched as Brienne sat down at their usual table. It always struck Jaime as odd that
Brienne ate alone.

These men knew her, and they should be happy to share a meal with her. A part of Jaime wondered
if she at alone for his sake. The men likely would not welcome Jaime when he eventually joined
Brienne.

Moving towards the table that Brienne sat at, Jaime stood before her. He watched as she pushed
around the porridge in her plate. It all felt so familiar.

“I was still here then.”

Then Jaime heard the voices and he could tell that Brienne did to.

“Can’t believe they stuck the fuckin’ woman with me again. Kingslayer’s Whore.”

The men snickered before another continued.

“Ser Whore now. What a fuckin’ joke. I heard he only knighted her to bed her.”

Rage coursed through Jaime’s veins as he looked to the men. His flesh hand balled into a fist and
he moved towards the table of men, but Bran grabbed his shoulder once more.

“That won’t do any good. You can’t harm them anymore than you can erase the words. These are
hardly the first words of their kind to reach her ears. She has been a jape all her life, but the words
have never been so harsh as those spoken since she left the feast and you followed. These words
are almost kind in comparison.”

Bran’s voice was no longer his as he relayed some of the things spat at Brienne. Listening to the
litany of insults and cruel japes, Jaime looked back to Brienne. The pain in her eyes was evident as
the men mocked her.

Jaime felt his heart sink. He looked to Bran and shook his head. “She never said anything to me.”

“What would she have said? Everything these men say, she believes herself.”

Jaime’s jaw went slack. “How could she think that? I…”

I never told her. I never told her that I love her. I just kept bedding her and sulking about the castle
grounds. I kept worrying over whether Bronn might return with that fucking crossbow.

As if reading his mind, Bran shrugged. “There’s more.”

Grabbing Jaime’s shoulders, Bran spun him around hard. When Jaime steadied himself, he realized
that he was no longer in the great hall. Sansa sat behind her desk with a pot of steaming tea on her
desk and a quill in hand.

Writing furiously, the young Stark poured herself some tea and sighed. A knock at the door caught
Jaime’s attention and Sansa called out for the visitor to enter. Jaime watched as Brienne walked in
slowly.

“What’s wrong with her? She looks… broken.”

Bran stood at Jaime’s side and appraised Brienne. “This is the day after you left.”
Jaime watched as Brienne sat down opposite Sansa and took the offered tea. She gave voice to the
reason for her visit and Jaime cringed at Sansa’s reaction.

“Why did he leave?”

Brienne shifted in her seat and swallowed thickly. “For… for Cersei.”

“Because she is the only woman he loves.” Sansa’s words felt like a slap to Jaime’s face.

“Yes, my lady.”

What!? No! I don’t love her! I love you!

Sansa snorted and raised a brow. “So he spoke no words of love to you? No promises?”

“No, my lady.”

Jaime shook his head and kneeled at Brienne’s side. “I would have! I will! I just need to wake up.
I’ll stay. I never wanted to leave.”

Bran sighed and shook his head. “We’ve been through this. This is the past. She can’t hear or see
you.”

Then Jaime listened in horror as venom dripped from Sansa’s mouth.

“You were at Joffrey’s wedding. Cersei spoke to you. I assume you recall what she looks like. Did
you truly believe someone like him could desire someone like you after having her? You betrayed
us when you let him ride south to save his twin. You betrayed me. You failed me.”

Jaime’s heart sank and he turned to Bran. “How could your sister say these things to Brienne?
Brienne has done nothing but give every ounce of herself to keeping Sansa safe!”

Before Bran could answer, Sansa’s cold words reached Jaime’s ears once more.

“…Clearly you didn’t even see how he was using you to get information for his sister. And what
do you think will happen if Cersei survives this? You must know that she will come for me next?
Now he rides south with full knowledge of our plans. You do recall our agreement, correct? Are
you here to offer your head?”

Panic coursed through Jaime and he glanced to Bran. “Wake me up! I need to get to Brienne! She
isn’t safe.”

Bran put up a calming hand and shook his head. “My sister has exiled her. Again, this is the past.
These things have already happened.”

As Jaime turned around, he was suddenly outside Winterfell. He watched as Brienne gave
Oathkeeper to Pod. He watched as her coin was taken and she was denied a horse. He watched as
she traded her armor for a pathetic sum of coin. He watched her walk away with only a sack on her
back.

“I need to find her. She isn’t safe traipsing about like that! Has she already left for Essos?” Jaime
stood in the center of Wintertown as he looked over his shoulder to Bran. A rare human expression
tugged at Bran’s features. Sorrow.

“I’m sorry for what you’ll see next.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed and he turned around. They were in a heavily wooded area in the bitter
cold. His eyes scanned the area and he saw a figure in the distance. A mess of blonde hair stuck out
from a body writhing in pain on the ground.

“Brienne!”

Running forward, Jaime crashed to the ground before Brienne. There was blood all over her
breeches as Brienne curled in on herself.

“What’s wrong with her! Gods. She’s bleeding!”

Looking back at Bran, Jaime watched as the young man slowly walked around Brienne with the
same sorrowful expression on his face.

“She lost the babe.”

The babe. She was with child? My child.

Regret coursed through Jaime as he watched Brienne struggle through the pain. He wanted to hold
her and comfort her, but all he could do was watch.

“Brienne. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I… I didn’t think.”

As Bran crouched at Jaime’s side, he spoke in a hollow tone. “The tea that my sister gave her that
day was moon tea. Sansa didn’t know, but she acted as a precaution. She wanted to ensure that
when Brienne left, there was no chance that any part of you lived on.”

Jaime screamed and pounded the frozen ground at his sides. He leaned over Brienne and wanted to
console her, but he couldn’t.

“Please, Bran. Let me wake up. I need to get to Brienne.” Tears began to streak down Jaime’s face
as he watched Brienne struggle through the pain on the unforgiving ground. He closed his eyes as
if willing the vision away. Bran’s voice filled the darkness around him.

“As I said, you’ll be the death of her.”

At Bran’s cryptic words, Jaime opened his eyes. Brienne was no longer on the ground before him.
His eyes lifted upwards and he saw her body swaying in the breeze. It was a scene eerily
reminiscent of the three tavern girls they happened upon in the Riverlands years ago.

Brienne’s battered body had a sign draped around it. “Kingslayer’s Whore”

Grief and rage consumed Jaime. He buried his head in his hands. It felt as though his heart had
been cut out of his chest and thrown to the wolves.

“Why!?”

Bran crouched at his side and spoke solemnly. “Those Bolton soldiers were dismissed on their way
to King’s Landing. Them and others were escorting us south, but when some of the more trusted
men intercepted us on the kingsroad, Sansa sent the Bolton men away. On their travel home, they
came upon Brienne at the side of the clearing. I didn’t show you that. I didn’t want you to see the
life leave her eyes.”

Jaime sobbed and looked back up at Brienne’s swaying body. He had never felt more broken as he
stared up at the dead body of the woman he loved. Knowing it was his fault made it infinitely
worse.

It’s my fault. I was the death of her. She didn’t deserve any of this.

“I need to get to her. She deserves a proper burial. I’ll take her body home to Tarth. Please. Let me
wake up.”

Bran stood upright and reached down to grab Jaime by the jerkin. Pulling Jaime upright, Bran
spoke again, but Jaime found himself unable to look at Brienne’s swaying body.

“It’s time for you to wake up. When you do, you aren’t going to take her body to Tarth. You’re
going to take it to Essos.”

Jaime opened his eyes in confusion. The tears in his eyes made Bran’s face little more than a blur.
“I didn’t want you to see the life leave her, but you need to see the life return to her. You’re going
to take her to Kinvara, the red priestess. She will bring Brienne back to you, but you need to hurry.
Jon will take you. Now wake up.”

Grabbing Jaime forcefully, Bran locked eyes with Jaime. “The things you do for love.” Bran
pushed Jaime hard in the chest. It felt like a cruel reversal of when Jaime pushed Bran in the tower.
As Jaime fell backwards, he seemed to plummet forever. It felt as though he couldn’t breathe, but
then he woke up.

Sitting upright, Jaime screamed as he took in his surroundings. He was in the Red Keep. Bronn
was at his bedside, half-awake in a chair.

“Brienne! Brienne!”

Bronn put stilling hands on Jaime’s chest and screamed into the hallway. “Pod! Poddy boy, he’s
awake! Lets get him to Jon.”
 Truths and Lies
Chapter Summary

The meeting at the dragonpit - Sansa POV

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

As Arya wheeled Bran into the dragonpit, Sansa huffed in annoyance at Bran’s mental absence.
The whites of his eyes were a sight that Sansa had come to loathe since Bran’s return to Winterfell.

It felt like the physical manifestation of the distance between Sansa and her siblings. In many ways,
they were as foreign to her now. Arya had become a Faceless Man. Jon had become a Targaryen
prince. Bran had become a raven.

Sansa cared deeply for her family above all others, but from what she had observed over the last
years, Sansa felt them all ill-equipped to rule.

None of them are fit to lead. They’ve all had an identity crisis. I’m the only true Stark remaining.

Initially, Sansa backed Jon when the vassals declared him king in the North. Then he bent to the
Targaryen and Sansa’s confidence in him was as broken as her faith in Brienne had been.

Looking around the pit, Sansa noted the presence of her deplorable uncle, the bumbling Tarly boy,
her pitiful cousin with Lord Royce at his side, and a would be pirate who avoided the war despite
backing Daenerys.

The other attendees were less known to Sansa. Another vassal from the Reach sat beside Sam,
though his House sigil was unfamiliar to Sansa. The newly legitimized Gendry Baratheon was
present, but Sansa wondered at the presence of Ser Davos and the largest man she had ever seen.

Further down the line, an empty seat struck Sansa as odd. She imagined that Jon would name
someone from the West to rule in place of House Lannister. The Unsullied had arrested Tyrion for
defying Daenerys and allowing the Kingslayer to go free to his sister-lover.

Lastly, a Dornish man sat with a most unamused expression on his face. Sansa gathered that he
was a distant member of House Martell, which had mostly been eradicated thanks to Cersei’s
efforts.

Yet another House destroyed by House Lannister. Just as they destroyed House Tyrell. Just as the
aimed to destroy House Stark.

Jon walked towards the dragonpit with Grey Worm and a chained Tyrion. A huff of laughter
pushed passed Sansa’s lips. Looking to her former husband, a smile quirked at her lips.

Mayhap I will get to see the fall of House Lannister and not just the twins. I thought Tyrion would
prove little more than the final piece to move in an effort to unseat Daenerys. It seems he got
himself into a fine mess in the process.
As they stood at the center of the pit, Sansa plastered a false smile to her face. She would back
Jon’s claim as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne only to immediately demand the North’s
independence. She knew that Jon would afford it to her. Were it not for her, Sansa was convinced
that none of them would be alive.

At Sansa’s side, Bran’s eyes rolled forward. He breathed deeply and nodded to Jon. A slight
acknowledgement flitted across Jon’s face before he spoke to the group.

“I thank you all for gathering today. Among us we have every kingdom represented for what is to
be the start of a new era in Westeros. As you know, Queen Daenerys was murdered by Queen
Cersei after we believed the battle won. I regret that I was too late in getting to our queen to save
her, but we have righted the wrong. Before we begin, I thought it would be best to introduce
ourselves.”

Sansa grumbled slightly at the words.

Typical Jon.

Looking to Sam, Jon nodded for the young man to begin. Sam stood and clasped his hands
nervously. “Hello. I’m Samwell of House Tarly. I was asked by Jon to attend on behalf of the
Reach. While Queen Cersei killed those bearing the Tyrell name, the line is not dead. I bring with
me Ser Jon Fossoway. He is wed to Lady Janna Tyrell who is next in line for Highgarden. It is Ser
Jon who represents the Reach now and our vassals pledged fealty.”

Ser Jon nodded to the others assembled as Sam sat down. To their side, Edmure stood and
introduced himself, Sansa struggled to suppress an exaggerated eye roll as her uncle rambled
endlessly.

Gods. Fitting that he sits near Sam. What a pair they make.

After Edmure took his seat, Sansa stood on behalf of her siblings. “I am Lady Sansa of House
Stark. Eldest surviving child of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark. I’m joined by my
surviving siblings, Arya and Brandon Stark. I will speak on behalf of the North at Jon’s behest.”

Looking to her left, Sansa watched as Davos stood. “Hello. I’m Ser Davos of the Stormlands. Some
of you may know that Queen Daenerys legitimized the only surviving trueborn son of King Robert
Baratheon, Lord Gendry.”

Davos pointed to the young man whose demeanor demonstrated little desire to be present. In
response, Gendry offered an uncomfortable smile at the introduction before Davos continued.

“Lord Gendry has no desire to claim Storm’s End. The vassals of the Stormlands have instead
named Lord Selwyn Tarth as Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. I’ve known Lord Tarth for many
years, and I can say that there is no better man to lead our kingdom. I believe most of you know his
daughter, Ser Brienne.”

A proud smile stretched across the knight’s face as he glanced to those assembled. Sansa wanted to
laugh at the words.

Gods. How pathetic. If Selwyn is anything like his daughter, the Stormlands are doomed. Wait
until this man comes to find out why his daughter was knighted.

For his part, Selwyn looked unmoved. There was a hint of sorrow clouding his face as his eyes
remained fixed on the ground before him. A fleeting feeling of regret tugged at Sansa’s heart
before she pushed the feeling away. She buried it deep in the recesses of her soul as she reminded
herself of Brienne’s betrayal.

To the left of the Stormlands contingent, Yara Greyjoy stood proudly. “I’m Yara Greyjoy, Lady of
Iron Islands. We were granted our independence by Queen Daenerys before the war in King’s
Landing. I aim to see that honored here.”

Sansa snorted and crossed her arms.

What good are promises made from a queen who never formally held the crown. It’s as useless as
her legitimization of Gendry. Truly, it’s the one thing that I’ll respect the Stormlands for. Even
they don’t honor Daenerys’ nonsense.

Robin stood from down the line. He had changed much since Sansa last saw him. Now a man
grown, Robin addressed the group. “I’m Lord Robert of House Arryn. I’ve requested Lord Royce
to join me and offer council at these proceedings.”

Finally, the Dornish representative stood and addressed the group.

“I am Ser Manfrey Martell, Castellan of Sunspear. Prince Doran was my cousin and I am all that
remains of my House thanks to the prior crown.”

Sansa felt for the man. She knew all too well the feeling of loss at the hands of House Lannister.
With the members of the summit introduced, Sansa glanced back at Jon.

Her bastard brother turned legitimate cousin and heir to the Iron Throne spoke confidently.

“For most of my life, many of you have known me as the bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark of
Winterfell. That was a lie he honored to protect me from the crown. My true name is Aegon
Targaryen. I am the last surviving Targaryen of the mad king’s line. Queen Daenerys was my aunt.
I bent the knee to her and fought for her in the war against Queen Cersei of House Baratheon.”

House Baratheon. Gods, Jon. Call her what she was. A fucking Lannister. That is who we fought.
That is who came for us.

Jon looked pointedly at Grey Worm.

“I do not stand by her actions here in King’s Landing. Innocent lives were lost despite the city’s
surrender. That is not the woman I bent the knee to. I know that is not the woman her armies from
across the Narrow Sea intended to follow.”

The Unsullied commander bit his lip and tensed, but he did not refute the statement. Sansa could
feel the tension in the air as Jon continued.

“I will not take the crown if any of you doubt my ability to lead based on my lineage and what you
have seen here in King’s Landing. I can only say that I am not Aerys’ grandson. I am Lyanna
Stark’s son. I was raised by my uncle, Lord Eddard Stark. I do not recognize fire and blood. It is
not the type of rule that I would impose on Westeros.”

At Jon’s words, Sam looked to Ser Jon and nodded. The older knight stood and met Jon’s eyes. “I
know House Tarly well. If Lord Sam tells me that you are fit to lead, the Reach would back you.”

Seizing the opportunity, Sansa stood. “I can vouch for my cousin. He is a Stark and beyond dragon
riding, I’ve not seen a touch of Targaryen influence in him. I have seen him lead the North. They
named him king over me and other trueborn Starks based on his ability to lead. The North would
back him.”
A small smile tugged at Jon’s lips when he met Sansa’s eyes. Grumbling from his seat, Edmure
looked to Jon. “The Riverlands would follow you. I know the quality of House Stark through my
sister and her children.”

Sansa heard Lord Royce speaking with Robin to her left. Glancing at her cousin, she saw Robin
nod before looking to Jon.

“The Vale will follow you. You kept my cousin safe, restored House Stark’s ancestral seat, and led
the defense of the living against the dead.”

Ser Manfrey huffed a small laugh from down the row. With a slight shrug, he looked to Jon. “If
you killed that bitch Cersei Lannister, that is good enough for me. You have Dorne’s support.”

Davos and Selwyn could be heard speaking to Sansa’s left. Appraising the man, Sansa chastised
herself for not immediately recognizing him as kin to Brienne. The man was larger than the
Mountain with hair like Brienne and emotive blue eyes to match. His skin was weathered, likely
from living on an island for a lifetime.

Glancing at Jon, Selwyn’s eyes narrowed in contemplation. “Ser Davos tells me that my daughter
fought for House Stark. That she served as sworn sword.”

Selwyn glanced down the line at Sansa. His expression was difficult to discern and it unnerved
Sansa. She shifted slightly in her seat, but she did not break eye contact.

Slowly turning back to Jon, Selwyn nodded. “If my daughter served House Stark and they make
claim that you are more them than Targaryen, I would support you. My daughter is a sound judge
of character. The Stormlands will back you."

Sansa released a breath that she didn’t realize she was holding. The atmosphere was tense as she
looked to Yara. It seemed laughable that the Iron Islands were being offered say.

“Will the Iron Islands be granted its independence under your rule?”

Jon huffed a small laugh and shook his head. “I am not privy to any arrangements you had with
Queen Daenerys. The Iron Islands are part of Westeros and should remain as such. You are too
valuable an ally to lose. I would see the Iron Islands under your leadership, but you would still
pledge fealty.”

Yara huffed in frustration and studied Jon. It seemed she didn’t have much ground to stand on
given Daenerys was dead. Glancing around to those assembled, Yara conceded. “Aye. The Iron
Islands backs your claim.”

Jon nodded in thanks. “It seems that we have all accounted for save the West.”

As his eyes drifted to Tyrion, Jon smiled. “Before we get to that, we must tend to the matter of
Lord Tyrion Lannister. He served as Hand to Queen Daenerys and was imprisoned for releasing
his brother, Ser Jaime Lannister, before the siege of King’s Landing. Ser Jaime had been falsely
imprisoned under erroneous assumption that he was returning to aid his sister. Instead, he did as
Lord Tyrion asked. He rang the bells to signal the surrender of King’s Landing. Ser Jaime fought
against his sister. Queen Cersei’s forces lowered their weapons, but Queen Daenerys attacked
anyway. I believe we have no ground to imprison Lord Tyrion. It seems that with Lord Tyrion’s
backing of my claim, I would be within my right as King to set him free.”

What? That is a lie! The Kingslayer is our enemy! The mean to glorify his death when he meant to
aid Cersei!
Rage began to pool in Sansa’s core as Tyrion raised his hands to Grey Worm. A cold expression
lined Tyrion’s face as he briefly glanced to Sansa. “I more than agree, though to be fair, I have very
little authority to speak on behalf of the West. I would defer to my lord brother and Warden of the
West.”

He defers to a ghost. Gods, Tyrion is much changed. He used to be the most intelligent man that I
knew. Now he’s little more than a fool.

As the chains fell from Tyrion’s wrists and he walked to the chair, Tyrion glared at Sansa. Her
brows knitted in confusion at the cold greeting from Tyrion. Glancing to her siblings, Sansa saw a
wide smile stretch across Bran’s lips.

A huff of laughter pushed passed Jon’s lips. “Your backing is sufficient. Thank you, Lord Tyrion.
I’m sorry for all you’ve lost in these wars.”

Addressing the larger group, Jon spoke commandingly. “I thank you all for your support. There is
one matter left to address before we adjourn.”

Standing from her seat, Sansa interrupted her cousin’s mindless rambling. “Actually, your Grace, I
wish to say something. I don’t know what you intend to discuss, but I hope it would only concern
the Six Kingdoms. The North declares its independence. No other kingdom aside from the Vale
answered the call to save humanity from the threat of the dead. Even then, the Vale only answered
the call at my behest. Our kingdom has suffered great losses at the hand of southern rulers. Our
House was nearly wiped out by House Lannister. A House that should be stripped of its lands and
titles.”

Sansa took pause and glanced to Tyrion who stood resolutely behind the empty chair. With the
utmost confidence, Sansa tilted her chin and continued.

“We will work with you to ensure peace between our kingdoms, but we cannot bend the knee.”

Jon raised a brow; his eyes darting to Arya.

“Arya, as Lady of Winterfell and Warden of the North, do you and your betrothed, Lord Gendry,
intend to declare open rebellion?”

Arya smirked at Gendry and stood confidently. “No, your Grace. House Stark pledges fealty to
you.”

“What!?” An incredulous expression tugged at Sansa’s features. Looking to Jon, she noted his
stern expression.

“Is something wrong, Lady Sansa? You seem at odds with the Lady of Winterfell.”

“I am the Lady of Winterfell!”

Jon’s face fell into one of pity as he shook his head. “I’m sorry Sansa, but after your actions, I
cannot see you named Lady of anything. You are henceforth stripped of your lands and titles.”

Nodding to Grey Worm, Sansa watched in horror as the Unsullied strode quickly towards her with
chains in hand. Backing up, Sansa fell into her chair and looked to her siblings in horror.

“What is going on!? What are you all doing!?”

In the distance, loud voices caught her attention. Her eyes went wide at the sight of Jaime Lannister
storming towards the dragonpit with Bronn at his heels. Jaime’s head was heavily bound, and he
looked paler than a ghost.

At his arrival, Jon turned to greet Jaime. He raised a hand to stop Jaime’s mounting protest. They
spoke in urgent, hushed whispers, but it was Bran’s voice that calmed Jaime. “Just a moment more
Ser Jaime. Then you will be on your way.”

Jaime’s face was panicked as Jon guided him towards the vacant seat that Tyrion stood behind.
“Please, Ser Jaime. I know. We’ll leave momentarily.”

As Jaime’s eyes fell on Sansa, rage flashed across his face. He began to move from his seat, but
Jon held him down.

“What the fuck is she doing here!? I’ll kill her myself!”

What is going on? What is happening.

Sansa was quickly chained and pulled roughly from her seat by Grey Worm and another of his
men. They dragged her kicking and screaming to the center of the dragonpit. As all eyes fell on
Sansa, Jon turned to face her. In the moment, Jon’s face looked so much like her father before
judgement was passed.

“Lady Sansa Stark, you stand accused of treason. You stand accused of murder. You stand accused
of conspiracy. How do you answer these charges?”

Sansa felt an overwhelming panic set in. Her voice was laced with desperation. “Jon! Please! I’ve
done nothing!”

An eerie silence settled over the dragonpit as Bran’s calm voice drifted through the open stadium.

“You defied the commands of your King in the North by working against Queen Daenerys. You
defied his orders to keep his lineage a secret. It contributed to Queen Daenerys’ descent into
madness; just as you planned. You planted seeds of doubt and mistrust among the allied forces.
You conspired to see to the demise of House Lannister. It drove you to commit murder.”

“Murder!? I’ve murdered no one!”

To her right, Jaime again tried to stand from his seat, but Jon, Lord Royce, and Bronn held him
down as he clawed to get to Sansa.

“No one!? You murdered my child you hateful bitch!”

His child? How I wish I killed Joffrey! I didn’t touch his bastards!

Arya stood from her seat and walked towards Sansa. The tone in her voice reminded Sansa of
Littlefinger’s trial.

“You gave Ser Brienne moon tea that killed her and Ser Jaime’s unborn babe. She nearly died on
the forest floor while enduring her walk to White Harbor. You told the stable master not to allow
her a horse to travel, but he did take her coin.”

Sansa’s face betrayed her shock. Her eyes darted to Jaime who was being wrestled back into his
chair. As Sansa’s head turned slowly towards her kin, her eyes landed on Lord Selwyn. While she
could not read Lord Selwyn’s expression before, she could read it now. Contempt.
 “I didn’t know! It was only meant to be an assurance.”

Jon rounded on Sansa once more. “An assurance!? You exiled one of our best knights for pettiness!
Because Ser Brienne dared care for someone other than you. She served our House honorably. She
saved your life. She fought for us. She led our men in battle. Your actions led to her death!”

Her death…

Sansa’s mind went blank as he jaw gaped at the words. She stammered and desperately looked to
those gathered.

“I… I didn’t kill her. I sent her away. Jon, please. She was being used by the Kingslayer! She
betrayed us!”

Disapproving looks and shaking heads were all Sansa was met with.

“His name is Jaime. Just Jaime.” Bran’s voice drew Sansa’s attention to him, but Bran was looking
at Jaime. When Bran turned to meet Sansa’s eyes, she saw darkness there.

“And her name was Brienne. Not Kingslayer’s Whore. You may have only killed her babe, but
your actions led to her death. Ser Jaime rode south for love, but not the love you thought. He rode
south for Brienne. He rang the bells. He killed her.”

The ‘her’ hung heavy in the air between them. As her eyes darted back to Jaime, she saw tears
streaking down his cheeks as Tyrion tried to console him.

No. This is all a lie and they don’t see it. He only loves Cersei. I know it.

With a heavy sigh, Jon took slow steps towards Sansa. “Sansa, let me ask you again. Do you deny
these charges?”

Shaking her head in refute, Sansa glanced up at Jon from her position on her knees. “I do not. I
saved you all! The Kingslayer lies, but you all refuse to see it!”

Jon closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Unfortunately for you, Sansa, the only person in this
world who would still defend you is dead. You never deserved her loyalty. Now if you’ll excuse
me, Ser Jaime and I need to go collect her body.”

Glancing back at Lord Selwyn, Jon nodded. “You have my word, Lord Tarth. We will right this
wrong.”

Chapter End Notes

Next chapter, Brienne comes back! I'm hoping that mayyyybbee I can get the chapter
edited today and posted later. Thanks for reading!
 Warm and Cold
Chapter Summary

Jaime and Jon get Brienne to Kinvara

Chapter Notes

Double posting day - this with chapter 6

Jaime

Jaime watched bitterly as Sansa was dragged away by the Unsullied. A hand at his shoulder
disrupted Jaime’s murderous thoughts. Turning to see Bronn’s smirking face, Jaime shook the
sellsword’s hand from his body.

“I told you to stay away from me!”

“Who do ya think kept ya hidden and got ya to a maester when the fuckin’ ceilin’ fell on ya head? I
told ya, only I get to kill ya.”

With a snort, Bronn’s brows rose as he looked to Jon. “Good luck. He’s awful touchy today.”

The arrogant sellsword marched off in the direction of the Keep. Jaime wished to pummel the man
as much as he wished to see Sansa’s head on a spike.

Every part of Jaime wanted to scream, rage, and cry. It was then that he felt a large shadow fall
over him. Turning around, Jaime looked up into the face of the largest man he had ever seen.

The man’s lips curled in distaste as he spoke to Jon while glaring at Jaime. “You said my daughter
was with a good man; not that he was the Kingslayer.”

Oh gods. Her father. My head will be next to Sansa’s.

“Aye, I said she was with a good man and I can assure you that Ser Jaime is. Lord Bran will tell
you all that you need to know, but as I said, we need to save your daughter. Please, trust me in
this.”

Selwyn clenched his jaw before speaking. “She has been dishonored by this man, and left swinging
in the breeze by your cousin’s men! You can’t save her. She’s dead!”

“Aye, she is. So was I. A red priestess brought me back and a red priestess will bring your daughter
back.”

Selwyn’s face was incredulous as he looked to Jon. “What are you on about? You said you would
bring her back. Her body.”
Jon pushed back his fur cloak and lifted his tunic to reveal several scars at his chest and over his
heart.

“As I said, a red priestess brought me back. Bran has told me of another who can do the same for
Ser Brienne, but Ser Jaime and I must hurry. She died this morning and the longer we wait, the
worse off she will be if we raise her. I swear to you that we will right this wrong. I will bring your
daughter back to you. Not just her body.”

Selwyn grimaced, but grabbed Jaime roughly by the jerkin. “By the gods, if our king didn’t tell me
that I couldn’t kill you, your head would be in the Blackwater. If this fails, I’ll tear you apart with
my bare hands. None of this would have happened if you didn’t dishonor my daughter!”

Without another word, the massive lord from Tarth stormed away from the pit. Slowly, other
members of the summit left as Arya wheeled Bran over. “You remember the location?”

“Aye. You’re certain about this, Bran? Kinvara will help us?”

Bran nodded slowly at Jon. “You need to hurry. Ser Brienne needs to be brought back within the
day. The longer someone is dead for, the worse the effects can be.”

Jaime’s brows knitted in confusion. “What effects?”

At the question, Jon grabbed Jaime’s elbow and led him from the pit. “I’ll explain later. Bran is
right. We can’t delay.”

Jaime’s mind was a sea of emotions and questions. He struggled to shake the image of Brienne
swaying from a tree. Guilt weighed heavy on Jaime’s soul knowing that Sansa was hardly alone in
the contribution to Brienne’s death. His actions weighed equally in the outcome.

A loud cry from the skies caught Jaime’s attention. Glancing up, the sight of a rapidly approaching
dragon made Jaime take pause. Jaime halted his progress forward and reached for a sword that
wasn’t at his hip.

With a small laugh, Jon reached back and grabbed Jaime’s arm. “I’m sorry. This is the only way to
ensure we get to her fast enough.”

“I’m not getting on that thing!”

Speaking over his shoulder as he dragged Jaime forward, Jon offered a sympathetic smile. “If we
don’t take the dragon, your love is going to be a pile of bones by the time we get her to Volantis.”

After Drogon landed, Jaime watched in horror as Jon climbed atop the dragon’s back and looked to
him expectantly. With a questioning brow, Jon gestured to the space behind him. “Well? Do you
wish to save her?”

Seven hells.

Taking a cautious step forward, Jaime kept an eye on the winged beast. The feel of the dragon
below his flesh hand was not as he expected. The dragon was warm to the touch, but the scales dry.

A slight chill ran down Jaime’s spine as memories of Drogon torching his army flooded his mind.
The vision of the living and dead dragons dueling overhead at Winterfell played out as if only
yesterday.

Climbing atop Drogon, Jaime spoke uneasily to Jon. “What am I meant to hold onto? I have one
hand.”

“Oh, right. Well… is it strong?”

Jaime rolled his eyes at the laughter in Jon’s voice. A distant memory from his earliest days with
Brienne pushed to the forefront of his mind.

I’m strong enough.

From ground level, Tyrion called up to them. “Jaime. I’m sorry. I never asked ‘why’. Not for any
of it.”

With little more than a small nod to Tyrion, Jaime looked ahead as the dragon began its ascent into
the sky. It was a disorienting experience and one that Jaime did not wish to prolong more than
necessary. The air was cold and the speed harrowing.

Thoughts of plummeting to his death plagued Jaime’s mind. Squeezing his eyes shut as he ducked
low to avoid the greatest wind resistance, Jaime saw only sapphire pools staring back at him in the
darkness. Then the visions Bran shared played out before him.

She must have been so frightened. Those dogs killed an unarmed woman, weak from travel and
miscarriage.

When they began their descent, Jaime marveled at how little time they had been in the sky. Such a
distance by horse would have taken weeks.

“Where are we?”

Jon glanced back and shouted over the sound of rushing air.

“Just northwest of White Harbor. Bran said she would be in this area.”

Gods. We have to find her and cut her down.

The swaying tavern girls from the Riverlands came back to his mind. Brienne had been adamant
about burying them and Jaime had scoffed. He cruelly japed that the tavern girls would be
swinging in Brienne’s dreams. In a cruel twist of fate, Brienne would be the one swinging in
Jaime’s nightmares for the rest of his days.

Would anyone have done that for her? Would they have stopped to bury her?

The thought was crushing. It hurt to think on how many people had likely passed her body and
thought little of it. In front of him, Jon slid down from the dragon, but Jaime was petrified.

Jaime didn’t know if he could handle seeing Brienne’s lifeless body hanging from a tree. It seemed
his heart might shatter into a million pieces.

“Ser Jaime. I know this isn’t easy…”

“How could you possibly know how this feels!?” Jaime didn’t mean to snap at the newly
acknowledged king, but his emotional state was teetering on the edge. It was difficult to breathe,
and Jaime felt his heart racing at the thought of cutting Brienne down from a tree.

“I understand more than you realize.”

Jaime moved down from the dragon and spoke bitterly. “Your love was a madwoman. She
deserved death.”

Jon’s face was a warning as he squared his shoulders at Jaime. “Aye, I loved Daenerys. It wasn’t
her that I speak of though. The woman that stole away with my heart years ago died in my arms.”

The words struck Jaime. He had always wanted to die in the arms of the woman he loved. Brienne.
Now he would hold her dead body in his arms.

“I’m sorry.” It was all Jaime could say without dissolving into a mess.

With a heavy sigh, Jon pointed towards the wooded area before them. “Lets find her quickly. It
will take well over half a day to get to Volantis and we have no time to spare.”

Stepping forward, Jon inclined his head left. “Why don’t you look through that area and I’ll take
the right?”

“It’s a clearing. She died in a clearing not far from the kingsroad.”

Jon’s brows furrowed as he considered Jaime’s words. “How do you know?”

“Bran showed me.”

“I hadn’t realized he showed you that. He just said…” Jon took pause and shook his head before
continuing.

“The maester had you under poppy because of the swelling. You were given a final dose last night
once he determined the pain would be tolerable or gone. The injury to your head was worse than
we thought, and he believed you would be more comfortable if kept in sleep. Bran said that he
needed to show you something, but he didn’t say what.”

Nodding in understanding, Jaime trudged forward and looked for clearings in any direction while
keeping near the kingsroad. He walked for some time, lost in though and praying to the Seven that
the plan worked. Then he saw her. A cool northern breeze pushed through the forest and spun her
lifeless body.

Jaime’s stomach lurched and bile rose in his throat. That was when he realized that he had nothing
to cut the rope with. “Jon!”

Stumbling forward, Jaime fell to his knees as he entered the clearing. It felt as though he had been
pierced through each lung. He couldn’t breathe nor look upon her. Closing his eyes, Jaime
screamed louder; his voice thick with tears.

“Jon!”

Grabbing at his chest, Jaime sobbed as he heard the rustling of leaves behind him.

“Seven hells.” Jon muttered and moved passed him. The distinct sound of a sword unsheathing
caught Jaime’s attention. Then he remembered the tavern girls falling to the ground with a
sickening thud as bodily fluids splattered onto him.

Surging forward from his kneeling position, Jaime ran to catch Brienne’s body as the rope
slackened at Jon’s blade. Jaime caught Brienne in his arms and pulled her cold body close to his
chest. The emotional pain felt worse than the sensation of losing his hand.

Sobbing into Brienne’s lifeless body, Jaime felt Jon’s hand at his shoulder. “We have to go.”
Rage consumed Jaime as he noted the sign draped over her. Tearing it off, he flung it into a thicket
and screamed. Jon crouched before him and shook Jaime’s shoulders.

“Let me carry her.”

“No! I’ve got her.” Jaime’s words came out harsher than he intended, but Jon said nothing of it.

Forcing himself to stand, Jaime scooped Brienne into his arms. He had never carried her before,
but she felt smaller and lighter than he expected. Her boney body spoke to the lack of nourishment
on her travels. She had always been lean and lacking the thickened curves of most noblewomen,
but the harsh reality of two moons traveling alone were apparent.

Glancing at her face for the first time, Jaime saw the bruising and dry blood at her nose and lips.
Her left eye had heavy bruising where one of the soldiers likely punched her. Then he saw her
neck.

The marks from the rope were devastating to see. He wanted to go back in time and fix it. Steal
away with her to Essos, and let the mad queens and Sansa have at each other.

When they returned to Drogon, Jon climbed atop and reached down. “Pass her up.”

Jaime didn’t want to let go, but he knew that he had to. Extending his arms to Jon, Jaime watched
as the young king pulled Brienne’s lifeless body onto Drogon’s back.

Climbing up, Jaime moved behind Brienne’s body and cradled her with his maimed arm. Jaime
held on as tightly as he could with his left hand while keeping Brienne wedged between him and
Jon.

Jon glanced back to assess Jaime’s hold on Brienne. “Got her?”

Always.

After traveling the remainder of the day and through the night, they arrived in Volantis at sunrise.
Bran had instructed them to go to the Red Temple and seek out Kinvara.

Looking up at the temple with Brienne’s lifeless body in his arms, Jaime gasped. It was easily three
times the size of the once standing Sept of Baelor. People moved about purposefully as the sun
came up over the horizon.

Jaime didn’t know what to expect from the impending encounter with Kinvara, but a deep unease
settled in his gut as Jon walked just ahead of him. As they approached the large doors to the
temple, a woman stepped outside with an expression as vacant as those often adorning Bran’s face.

“Welcome, King Aegon. We’ve been expecting you.”

At the words, Jon glanced back warily at Jaime.

Gods. It’s the female version of Bran.

They were led inside and down a long hallway. A fiery glow illuminated their path as the woman
wordlessly guided them into a room on the righthand side. Three attendants bustled about the room
as though preparing for something or someone.

“Place her on the table, Ser Jaime. Kinvara will be in momentarily. She is finishing her morning
prayers.”
Without another word, the young woman with red hair exited the room. The necklace she wore
reminded Jaime of the red priestess at Winterfell who lit the trenches and Dothraki arakhs before
battle.

Glancing uneasily at Jon, Jaime watched as the young king offered little more than a shrug. When
the attendants cleared out of the room, Jon chuckled.

“Melisandre raised me on a wooden table at Castle Black. This is much more ornate.”

Were Jaime not staring at Brienne’s lifeless body and pallid skin, he might have laughed.
Unwilling to leave Brienne’s side, Jaime placed his flesh hand on her forehead. His eyes wandered
to her flat belly where their child once grew strong within. A new wave of tears stung the back of
his eyes.

Abruptly, a woman entered the room in a swirl of skirts. The woman was curvaceous with piercing
eyes and long brown hair. Without a word, she moved to Brienne’s side and appraised her. Similar
to the woman who led them into the room, the necklace she wore was identical to the one
Melisandre once donned.

“Unusual. A day, yet the faintest flame remains.”

What?

The woman glanced at Jaime curiously. “I’ve not seen a lingering flame in anyone a day past
death. When the flame goes out entirely, they come back too changed. If the flame lingers still,
there is a chance. I saw hers before you arrived. Its you.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed as he looked to Jon for aid. “I’m sorry?”

The woman rounded the table and took Jaime’s face in her hands. They were incredibly warm to
the touch. Her eyes seemed to look deep into Jaime’s soul.

“I see twin swords. Twin flames. Yours is a love that even death cannot extinguish.”

Jaime stammered slightly as the woman released his face and moved back to Brienne. “I don’t
understand what any of that means. Can you bring her back?”

“No. You will. Though I warn you, she may be changed, or her memories lost. Those raised thirst
only for their last thought before death. Some lose all memory of themselves. For others, it is
both.”

The woman moved to the shelves and produced various jars. One appeared to contain an oil and
the other water. She began praying over them in a language that Jaime couldn’t discern. Taking
pause, the woman glanced to Jon.

“King Aegon, you can wait outside.”

With a nod of understanding, Jon stepped into the hallway and shut the door.

Kinvara spoke sternly as her eyes darted to Jaime. “Your belief in the Lord of Light matters little in
what he wills. It is your love that matters. Your flame. The rite is called the last kiss. We can
breathe the flame of life into the dead to reignite or embolden their flame. Love is the most
powerful flame. Not hate nor vengeance.”

The red priestess produced a dagger from the shelf and moved to Brienne’s side as she renewed
chanting in an unfamiliar language.

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the sight of the dagger. He didn’t know this woman nor this place, but
something disturbed him. An urge to fall atop Brienne’s body and protect her coursed through him.

“I won’t hurt your love, Ser Jaime. Relax.”

As her eyes appraised Jaime, he felt his shoulders ease. Grabbing Brienne’s tunic, the woman cut it
away, exposing her ashen flesh. Bruises lined Brienne’s body and Jaime felt tears sting the back of
his eyes. She was so thin and broken looking.

The woman began to pour the oils over Brienne’s body as Kinvara chanted. Moving to Brienne’s
head, she poured the water over her hair and ran her hand down Brienne’s scalp. Cutting a piece of
her hair, Kinvara threw it into the fire while she continued to speak in a foreign tongue.

Grabbing Jaime’s hand, Kinvara tugged it forward and placed it on Brienne’s neck. His fingers
grazed the edge of the bear’s scars as a rush of memories flooded him. Holding his hand firm to
Brienne, Jaime listened as the red priestess continued chanting.

Kinvara placed her hands beside Jaime’s hand. Leaning down, the red priestess placed her mouth
over Brienne’s. Jaime could hear Kinivara exhale into Brienne’s mouth as her cheeks filled
slightly.

Pulling back, Kinvara looked at Jaime and inclined her head towards Brienne. “You were her first
kiss. You will be her last.”

Without another word, Kinvara left the room. Jaime stood rooted in place, uncertain what he was
meant to do. With his hand still at Brienne’s neck, his heart sunk. He wanted nothing more than to
see her eyes full of life. To see her cheeks flush at one of his tasteless japes. To see her smile.

Her smile. It had taken his breath away the first time he saw it. First it was only a hint of a smile
when he gifted her Oathkeeper and the armor. Then it was a full smile at her knighting. If nothing
else, he would cherish that memory above all others.

Leaning down, Jaime pressed his lips to Brienne’s. They felt cold; a cruel reminder of what was
stolen from him. As Jaime pulled back slightly, his tears fell onto her face. He wiped at his eyes
before leaning against the table and grabbing her arm.

This was fucking stupid. We should have brought her body to Tarth and given her a proper burial.

Jaime repositioned Brienne’s tunic over her body and sighed while cursing the gods inwardly. The
door to the room opened and Jon moved back inside. He looked hopefully to the table, but when he
observed no motion, Jon’s frown deepened. Placing a comforting hand on Jaime’s shoulder, Jon
sighed.

“I’m sorry. Melisandre brought me back. I just thought…”

Jon cut himself off. His eyes went wide, and his hand squeezed tighter on Jaime’s shoulder. “Ser
Brienne.”

Following Jon’s eyeline, Jaime felt his heart stop. Brienne’s eyes were open, though panicked. She
gasped for air and struggled to sit upright. Clutching at her throat, she shook violently; whether
from shock or fear, Jaime was uncertain.

Helping Brienne upright, Jaime wrapped his arms tightly around her. It felt like surfacing from
rough seas as his body released a loud sob. “Brienne! You’re alright! It’s alright!”

Her body continued to shake as Jon ran to the corner and grabbed a blanket. “Her body. The blood
hasn’t been flowing for a day. She needs warming.”

Jon draped the blanket over her, and Jaime gathered it around Brienne’s body. Pulling back from
the embrace, Jaime tugged the blanket across her chest and met her eyes. Her face was a blur as
tears cascaded down his face.

“Brienne. It’s alright now. You’re safe.”

Frightened sapphires looked deep into his eyes. She looked frantically to Jon and then around the
room. “Where am I?”

“Volantis. We’re at the Red Temple.” Jaime spoke as though it answered every question she likely
had. In truth, he hardly understood it himself.

As her eyes took in the room, they returned to Jaime. She glanced uneasily at Jon as she tugged the
blankets tighter. Her chin shivered from cold as she glanced back at Jaime.

“Who… who are you?”

 Then and Now
Chapter Summary

Brienne is alive and very confused. Jaime realizes just how much she forgets.

Brienne

Brienne felt uneasy as the man before her stared in confusion; his hand running through her hair.
Something about his eyes seemed familiar, but Brienne couldn’t recall why.

Who is this? Why is he touching me like that and crying?

Before the man could respond, a woman entered the room with a cup of warm soup. Moving next
to the unknown man, she offered Brienne the bowl and smiled.

“Brienne Tarth. My name is Kinvara and you are in Volantis. These men are your friends. They
brought you here to bring you back to life.”

Friends? I don’t have any friends.

Brienne looked uneasy at the words. Glancing to the pair, she eyed Jaime and Jon suspiciously.
“Why?”

Kinvara studied Brienne with knitted brows. “Tell me, what is the last thing you remember?”

At the woman’s question, confusion gave way to embarrassment. Brienne averted her eyes and
stared at the warm bowl of soup in her hands.

“I would rather not say.”

Kinvara looked at the men and requested they step out from the room. She insisted that it was
important for her to understand what Brienne recalled.

The man with familiar eyes lingered momentarily at the door. If Brienne wasn’t so aware of how
unlovable and ugly she was, she might have thought he cared for her. When the door shut, the
woman grabbed Brienne’s chin between her thumb and index finger.

Kinvara seemed to be searching Brienne for something before she spoke again. “I need to know
what you remember.”

Brienne squeezed her eyes shut and recalled the last moments before the darkness set in. “I just
remember that I couldn’t breathe. I was alone. Beyond that, I only recall how I felt. My regrets.”

With a slow nod, Kinvara continued staring at Brienne.

“And how did you feel? What were you thinking?”

Brienne felt her face flush. Her thoughts had been foolish. She chastised herself for being so
pathetic in her final moments.
“It’s quite embarrassing really. I just thought… I wished I had been loved. I know its absurd.
Clearly.” Brienne gestured at herself as though it provided the answer as to why the thought
preposterous.

“I know that love was not something I was meant to have.”

Kinvara hummed as she considered Brienne. “And you don’t remember those men who were in
here?”

Shaking her head in refute, Brienne looked down at her hands. “No. Well… something about one
of them seems familiar. Like I’ve seen him before, but I can’t place when or where. I only
remember his eyes.”

At the words, Kinvara tilted her head slightly. “Whose eyes?”

“The one with green eyes. I am fairly certain that I died alone, but I think I saw him. Well, not him
per say. I think I saw his eyes. I don’t know. It’s confusing. I suppose it matters little. The only
thing I’m certain of, is that I wasn’t loved, though I wanted it more than anything.”

Brienne glanced into Kinvara’s curious eyes. “Did you have to bring me back?”

The woman tilted her head in question. It struck Brienne that the woman likely only brought people
back who were loved by others, or who had some larger purpose. Immediately regretting how the
question sounded, Brienne stammered to provide context.

“I don’t intend to sound unappreciative. It’s just that… I don’t know that I can endure another
loveless life where I’m little more than a jape and burden. I don’t want to die alone again.”

Gods. What a waste of her ability. The real jape is on Westeros I suppose. How did I get to
Volantis? Mayhap Westeros rid themselves of me?

“Do you recall anything else from your life?”

Brienne nodded slowly. “Yes, of course. I remember most everything until the darkness.”

Kinvara considered Brienne for a moment before a sympathetic smile tugged at her lips.

“I’ll be right back.”

The woman exited the room, leaving Brienne alone to her thoughts. She tugged the blankets closer
and appraised the room. The table she sat on was cold and hard. Despite that, the room itself was a
pleasant temperature. A subtle orange glow from the candles lighting the room gave off an added
warmth.

Why did those men bring me here?

As Brienne continued to glance around the room, she caught sight of her reflection in a small
mirror. Her eyes went wide in horror as she saw the bruising around her neck and on her face.

Feeling her neck, Brienne realized then what must have happened.

Someone hung me?

Jaime
When Kinvara stepped into the hallway, she had a curious expression on her face. Standing before
Jaime, her head tilted in question.

“How long have you known her?”

Shaking his head, Jaime shrugged. “Years.”

“And how long have you loved her?

Jaime could feel the heat at his neck. His eyes shifted slightly to Jon before returning to Kinvara.
When he answered, the words were a whisper at his lips. “Just as long.”

It felt strange admitting his love out loud to others when he had yet to declare it to Brienne. While
others could see his actions for what they were, Jaime had not yet given voice to it. It felt like a
betrayal to Brienne that she had not heard it first.

Looking at Jon, Kinvara questioned him in turn. “And how long have you known her?”

“Not as long as Ser Jaime. A couple of years perhaps.”

With a slight nod of her head, Kinvara appraised Jaime once more.

“Her memory is gone at least as many years as you’ve known her. Unfortunately, I’ve never seen
memories return. I’ve also never raised nor heard of anyone raised, who suffered such a violent
death and didn’t feel anger or hate in the final moments.”

Jaime shook his head resolutely. “That isn’t who she is. She’s too good for this shit world.”

Kinvara hummed slightly. “Yes, well pity she doesn’t think that. I don’t believe you’ll need to fear
much in way of personality change as most suffer from. She may seem more sullen though. I don’t
know if she can find happiness or love in this life.”

“I love her!” Jaime spat the words through gritted teeth.

Kinvara raised a brow and smirked. “You may love her, and she may yet come to find her love for
you once more. You are twin flames after all. Even still, that love will never be enough when she
can’t accept that she is lovable. When she can’t love herself.”

Jaime straightened to full height. He looked down his nose at Kinvara and spoke confidently.
“Then I will love her enough for the both of us.”

As Jaime moved into the room, he could hear Jon apologizing on his behalf and thanking Kinvara
for what she did. It took everything in Jaime not to scream, but then his eyes landed on Brienne.

She looked so lost. Her hand was at her throat as though trying to feel for a rope that wasn’t there.
All Jaime wanted to do was hold her, but he feared startling or upsetting her.

“Brienne. I’m sorry for what happened to you. I won’t let that happen ever again. You have my
word.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion at his promise. Reminding himself that he was nothing to her,
Jaime approached slowly and asked after her memories.

“Other than dying, what was the last thing that you recall?”

Jaime watched as Brienne’s face seemed to search for something buried deep within. Her head
shook slightly as she glanced back at him. A slight color touched her cheeks as she spoke.

“I was at King Renly’s camp.”

Seven hells. So I’m to compete with a ghost for her affections.

The door opened and Jon returned. His eyes glanced between them in question. With a slight shake
of his head, Jaime huffed a small laugh.

“I regret to inform you King Jon, but our lady knight thinks Renly Baratheon is the king of
Westeros.”

At Jaime’s words, Brienne’s eyes went wide. Her jaw gaped slightly, and she struggled to give
voice to her thoughts.

“King Jon? I… I’m so sorry. Forgive me, but I don’t even know a Jon. Are you by chance king of
somewhere in Essos?”

Jon huffed a small laugh. “It’s alright. I’m Jon, but I suppose my formal name is Aegon Targaryen.
I don’t mean to frighten you, but a lot happened between what you recall and your death.”

Brienne moved from the table on shaky legs. The weakness in her limbs surprised her, and the men
caught her with quick hands. “Woah. Easy. I’ve been there, myself. Coming back from death isn’t
easy work.”

The words sparked something in Brienne. She looked to him with wide yes. “You’ve been brought
back too?”

“Aye. My death was a bit bloodier though.” As Jon steadied her, he pulled up his own tunic to
reveal a litany of scars over his chest and abdomen. Brienne reached her hand out slowly, but she
retracted it before skin met skin.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I have no right to touch you. I just thought, or rather, felt… a bit alone
in this. What happened to you?”

A sorrowful expression seized Jon’s features. “I was a member of the Night’s Watch. They named
me Lord Commander, but when some disagreed with my decisions, a few of my sworn brothers
took my life.”

Jaime had not known of it. He had wondered how Jon managed to free himself from the Watch
without being tracked down and killed.

It also struck Jaime that Jon was also killed violently, but he didn’t seem changed as Kinvara said.
He didn’t see angry or set on vengeance.

“That’s awful. I’m sorry.” Brienne’s face fell at the words and Jaime wanted for nothing more than
to hold her close.

Jon huffed a small laugh and glanced at Jaime teasingly. “A Kingsguard once told me not to worry.
Even if I regretted my decision to serve in the Night’s Watch, it was only for life. Luckily I died
and was able to try something new.”

Jaime startled at the memory from a lifetime ago.

Gods. Did I say that? I was so bitter then.

“I don’t remember how I died. Only that I was alone, and I couldn’t breathe. Although, it seemed
someone hung me. Do you remember anything after you died?”

Brienne appraised Jon’s face as she awaited his response. The eagerness in her voice made Jaime
wonder at what she had experienced.

With a sigh, Jon shook his head. “Only darkness.”

A momentary silence hung heavy in the room as Brienne’s face fell.

“Yes, it was the same for me. I thought there might be something more. It was just dark and cold. I
suppose I was hoping that mayhap if I didn’t do such a poor job at life this time, I might earn
something better in death. I guess that’s to be it then.”

A sad smile tugged at her lips. Turning to Jaime, Brienne raised a brow. “Did you die too? Is that
why you both brought me here? To aid someone else who died?”

“Not in the literal sense, no. I lost a hand! Does that count?” Jaime played at lightness, but in truth,
he felt oddly left out at the bonding over death that Jon and Brienne were doing.

“How did you lose your hand?” Brienne studied Jaime’s false hand before meeting his eyes.

Jaime felt his breathing stop at the question.

For you. I’d lose the other for you too.

A array of japes danced on the tip of his tongue, but when he saw the genuine curiosity in her eyes,
he couldn’t lie.

“Defending the love of my life.”

Another sad smile tugged at Brienne’s lips. A slight mist coated her eyes and for a moment, Jaime
thought maybe she remembered him. Her voice was genuine when she spoke.

“She’s very lucky to have you. Love seems a wonderful thing.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Jaime’s hand began to move slowly towards hers, but before he
could grab hold, Brienne looked to Jon.

“So, are you truly the king in Westeros?”

The newly acknowledge king chuckled slightly. “Aye, I am. Strange as that may seem.”

Brienne nodded as though it pained her to accept the information. She looked at Jaime with
confusion heavy in her features. “I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”

“My name is Jaime. Just Jaime”

Brienne’s brows knitted. “Do you have a last name?”

Jaime didn’t want her to know his last name yet. She would think him little more than the
Kingslayer and push him away in disgust. He remembered the look on Brienne’s face when they
first met. At the time, Brienne looked at him as everyone in Westeros did.

“Jaime Hill.”
Jon snorted at his side. “Gods. How the tables have turned.”

With a warning look to Jon, Jaime glanced back at Brienne. She accepted his answer easily enough.
Brienne had always been trusting and he hated lying to her, but he wasn’t ready to tell her all of it
yet.

Something seemed to trouble Brienne as she glanced between them.

“What happened in Westeros? To Renly?”

Jon shrugged at Jaime and mumbled. “You would know better than I. I was a bit occupied.”

Seven hells. Where do I even begin.

“Well, I suppose we should start with Renly since you served him. He was killed by… Stannis.
Stannis was in turn killed by House Bolton, who had been awarded Winterfell after turning on
House Stark. They had allied in secret with House Lannister and House Frey to have Robb and
Catelyn Stark killed. I think at some point the Iron Islands were rebelling, but no one really gave a
shit.”

Jaime continued without noticing the horrified expression on Brienne’s face.

“King Joffrey was killed at his wedding. A bit of justice I suppose. My bro… um… Tyrion
Lannister was falsely accused in it and imprisoned, but in truth it was House Tyrell that killed the
miserable shit. Tyrion demanded a trial by combat and Oberyn Martell fought the Mountain on his
behalf. I think they both died in the fight. That bit is still confusing to me. Anyway, someone set
Tyrion free and he killed his father, Tywin, on the privy. Then he fled across the Narrow Sea and
allied with Daenerys Targaryen.”

Taking a deep breath, Jaime continued. He failed to see the bewildered look that Brienne
exchanged with Jon.

“While all that happened, the Oberyn’s bastards and lover killed Princess Myrcella as retaliation
for his death. Tommen was crowned, but really it was Cersei making all the decisions at that point.
She sent the Lannister army to Riverrun to help the fucking Freys reclaim their prize for destroying
House Stark. The Blackfish had retaken it at some point. He must have been on the privy too when
the rest of his kin was killed at the Twins. I’m still a bit unclear on how he escaped that.”

Jaime scratched the back of his neck as he considered what came next. Snapping his fingers, he
looked eagerly back at Brienne. “Oh! This is where you come in. Yes, you were in Renly’s
Rainbow Guard…”

“His Rainbow Guard!? How? I was just a soldier. A woman.”

Oh. I never quite asked her how that happened.

Looking to Jon for aid, he only shrugged. Jaime bit his lip and met Brienne’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how. But you were, and then when he died, you served Lady Catelyn
Stark. You were charged with caring for her daughters in her absence. You found and saved Sansa
who had been a political hostage in King’s Landing. Then you brought her to Jon… or… King
Aegon here. They reclaimed Winterfell. The other one… the scary, little one who does the thing
with the faces… she showed up at some point.”

Jon chuckled and met Brienne’s eyes. “Arya Stark. My cousin seems to have become a Faceless
Man.”

“Yes, that’s the one! Well she made it back home. One of the boy’s survived too, but he’s a bit
fucked in the head I’m afraid.”

Jon looked to the ceiling and groaned. “Not helpful information.”

“Right, sorry. Well then Tyrion came back to Westeros with Daenerys. She had three dragons,
Brienne! Three! I can’t with the bloody dragons. She was a complete…”

Jaime took pause and saw Jon’s face fall. He took a steadying breath and played down the
madness. “She was a bit too much of Aerys, I’m afraid. Either way, she joined forces with the
North and the Vale. They meant to fight Cersei for the crown. Oh gods! I didn’t tell you. Wildfire,
Brienne. Cersei used wildfire. It was awful. And Tommen… he…”

Jaime paused and shook his head. The memories consumed him, but then he recalled that Brienne
didn’t remember the truth of Aerys. His face fell and he continued.

I should have left her then. Why didn’t I?

“King Tommen died. Cersei was queen, but she was not fit to rule. She was mad too. Daenerys, the
North, and the Vale asked for Cersei to join them; to unite Westeros to fight a greater threat than
squabbling over the bloody throne. The Night King and White Walkers were, unfortunately, real.
Cersei refused to give aid. It was horrible, but you fought for the living. You were very brave, and
you led a contingent! You did amazing. You’re a knight by the way. The first female knight in all
of Westeros because you earned it. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Oh wait! No, this is too
important.”

Jaime leaned in and spoke through gritted teeth.

“There is this fucking Wildling, Brienne. I swear by the gods, that I will punt that man from the
Wall itself. Do no go near him. This one…” Jaime inclined his head towards Jon. “… is friends
with him, but do not talk to the man. Trust me. He is the worst.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide as she looked to Jon. For his part, Jon could only grumble and run his
hand aggressively down his face.

“Anyway, the living won and then the kingdoms marched against Cersei. The two queens
destroyed everything in the process. They’re both dead. Now Jon is king. I’m not entirely certain
what he plans to call himself.”

Jaime glanced at Jon with a raised brow.

“Jon. I think it might be best to not boast at my Targaryen lineage after all that.”

Jaime nodded in agreement and looked back to Brienne with a slight shrug.

“That’s pretty much it.”

It was then that Jaime realized how overwhelmed she was by the onslaught of information. She
shook her head slowly as if struggling to process it. A pang of sympathy gripped Jaime as he
watched her face fall.

“I’m sorry. Saying it all at once like that seems a bit much. A lot has happened. You were there for
it all and you were… amazing.”
“Aye, you were.” Jon smiled and nodded at Brienne.

Brienne bit her lip and looked to the floor. Her shoulders rose as she took a deep breath and met
their eyes.

“Thank you both for saying that, but you don’t need to embellish my involvement. I’m certain that
I did as much as any other soldier. Clearly, I did something wrong or simply wasn’t well liked.
That feels more realistic. I remember how the men treated me at Renly’s camp. Please, I would
rather hear the truth, even if you think it will hurt. I’m used to it.”

Jaime wanted to shake her and tell her that she was loved and respected. It was only her association
with him that ruined her. Instead, he clamped his mouth shut and glanced at Jon.

“Ser Brienne. We are not embellishing. I know it feels a lot to believe. If I’m being honest, I
struggle to believe my own role in all of this. I thought myself a bastard just a year ago. If I closed
my eyes one day believing myself a bastard, and then opened them the next to have someone tell
me I am the legitimate son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, I would think it a great jape at
my expense. I would think they mocked me.”

Brienne’s eyes lit up once more. “Yes. That’s how it feels. I don’t mean to call you liars, but it’s
just a lot. More than I know I’m worth.”

“You are worth flying across the Narrow Sea on the back of a dragon for and so much more.”
Jaime spoke without thinking. He felt the heat at the back of his neck when both Brienne and Jon
looked to him in surprise.

Clearing his throat, Jaime shook his head and poke more calmly. “We’ll take you home. Everyone
is worried about you.”

Brienne glanced to him, but held her tongue. It seemed she was struggling to put something into
words. Looking between Jamie and Jon, Brienne spoke hesitantly.

“What happened to me? Why did I die?”

 Questions and Answers
Chapter Summary

Jaime and Brienne return to Westeros. Brienne has many questions.

Brienne

The words rolled around in her head as Brienne changed into a new tunic that an attendant
provided.

I was killed by men I fought beside. By soldiers from House Bolton.

Jon and Jaime had not shared much other than to note the men’s actions were not supported by the
larger army. They shared that the men had a vendetta against her and Jaime for past altercations
with their House.

I have a feeling the rest of the army was glad of it. I remember how Renly’s men felt about me. A
great jape. Unwanted.

Her body was still weak, and Brienne had stumbled several times leaving the temple. The man
who introduced himself as Jaime never left her side. He was a ridiculously good-looking man and
much more agreeable on the eyes than any man she recalled knowing, including Renly.

His love is lucky to have him. He even shows kindness to an ugly woman such as me.

King Jon seemed a caring man and they had much in common. She had never known a sovereign
to have so much regard for an unknown soldier. Even Renly, as sympathetic to Brienne as he was,
never would have done such a thing for her.

As they climbed atop the dragon outside the Red Temple, Brienne wondered if she was still dead
and the darkness had merely lifted. It felt surreal that these men had flown on the back of a dragon
to get her lifeless body to a red priestess. It felt too much for what she knew herself to be worth.

The red priestess stood near the dragon and looked up at them. Her eyes narrowed at Jaime and
Brienne. The attention unnerved Brienne and she squirmed slightly atop the great beast.

“Ser Brienne. Did you think it possible that you could be raised from the dead?”

The question caught Brienne by surprise. She shook her head in refute as she looked at the woman.
“No.”

With a small smile, the woman nodded. “Then perhaps it is not impossible that you can be loved.
Be open in this life. I can assure you that it won’t be the same as the last.”

Without another word, she turned and walked inside. Jon called out his thanks one final time before
commanding the dragon into the sky. The abrupt motion startled Brienne, and she clung to the
dragon’s scales.

A firm arm wrapped around her waist. Shifting close at her back, Jaime’s breath was warm against
her neck. His thighs pressed firm against hers as his left hand reached forward and grabbed at the
dragon’s scales in front of her.

“I’ve got you. I’d say you get used to this thing, but I haven’t.”

The proximity was dizzying. Only one other man had had been so close to Brienne before. Renly.
All previous touch had otherwise been formal, violent, or mocking.

Brienne’s instinct was to flee, but she couldn’t. It was not a luxury afforded to her when so far
above the ground on the back of a dragon.

They flew for some time with Brienne being able to do little more than fixate on Jaime’s body
pressed close to hers. His cheek brushed against her face from time to time as the great beast flew
over the ocean which stretched out as far as the eye could see.

A heavy fatigue was setting in. Brienne started nodding off slightly, but a firm embrace kept her in
place. Jon glanced over his shoulder and yelled back to them; fatigue heavy in his eyes.

“We may need to find an island for some rest. We’ve not slept in over a day and I don’t feel like
falling off this thing.”

They stopped to rest on the island of Lys. Brienne was relieved as she had been struggling to keep
warm atop the dragon. Her new tunic was thin, and despite being wedged between the two men,
the cold air sent chills down her spine.

As she lay on the ground not far from the dragon and men, Brienne felt something heavy and warm
blanket her body. She looked up to see Jaime crouched at her side. He had removed his jerkin and
placed it over her.

“I couldn’t quite manage to give this to you on the dragon. It’s a bit difficult to take off with the
one hand.”

He lifted his false hand in demonstration and raised an amused brow.

“Oh. Thank you. You’ll be cold though.”

Jaime shook his head and smiled. “No, it’s fine. I’m not the one who was just raised from the dead.
I can manage without it.”

He sat down beside her and sighed. Looking up at him, Brienne watched as the sun reflected off
his hair and face.

Far too handsome. Unfairly so. How could the gods afford him so much beauty and not give me a
drop of it? How does he know me? We must have fought together.

“Did we fight together? Is that how we met?”

Jaime seemed caught off-guard by her question. He looked quickly to his hands and sighed. “We
fought together against the dead. I served under your command.”

The idea of having led a contingent seemed laughable to Brienne.

Mayhap that is why he aids me. He feels obligated. That or he was wounded when I was killed. He
looks unwell himself. I wonder what happened to his head.

“Why did you bring me to Volantis? Jon said we knew the men who killed me. Were they under
my command? Like... what happened to Jon. Did I do something to wrong them?”

“You commanded the left flank. It was mostly men from the Vale; not those men. Those men were
from House Bolton. I think they had lingering anger and bitterness towards you and House Stark.
They hated me too; much more so than you. You did nothing wrong.”

Brienne considered his words and nodded. Then something struck her.

“You said your name was Jaime Hill, but you fought with the Vale. Hill is a bastard name of the
West. Were you one of Cersei’s men? Did you abandon one queen for the other? Is that why they
hated you?”

A bitter sounding laugh pushed passed Jaime’s lips. He looked to the horizon before glancing
down at her.

“You could say that.”

Thinking it best to drop the subject, Brienne rolled to her side and closed her eyes. It did not take
long for sleep to find her.

Green eyes looked at her as she struggled for breath.

Stay with me. Please. Don’t let me die alone.

The eyes turned away from Brienne and all she could hear was men’s laughter. As the air left her
lungs, and her limbs began to still, Brienne felt the Stranger’s arms wrapping around her.

I just wanted to be loved.

Brienne bolted upright, gasping for air. It wasn’t much, but the addition of men’s laughter to what
she remembered when the darkness came struck her. Warm arms pulled her close in the dwindling
sunlight. “Brienne. It’s alright.”

Where am I? Who is this?

Realization slowly came back to Brienne. She shook the vestiges of her dream from the forefront
of her mind. Green eyes met hers as Brienne pulled back her head slowly.

Those eyes. Those are the eyes in my dream that I begged not to leave me. Jaime’s eyes. Jaime
Hill. Was it him? Did he lie? Was he one of the men who killed me, and he felt badly for it after?
Or did he abandon me as they killed me? Did his guilt drive the decision to take me to Kinvara?

As her breathing steadied, Brienne saw the dragon and Jon resting just ahead. Jaime tugged his
jerkin tighter around her body in a bid to keep her warm. The jerkin reminded Brienne of something
she couldn’t give name to.

Like his eyes, Jaime’s scent was strangely familiar and oddly comforting. Brienne wasn’t certain
how to describe it, but the scent made something deep within stir as though trying to bubble to the
surface. A deep memory she couldn’t quite conjure seemed to fight for recognition. With a shaky
breath, Brienne nodded at Jaime and met his eyes.

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

Jaime shifted impossibly closer. The way he looked at Brienne unsettled her. His eyes spoke of a
familiarity that she did not share. Furthering her discomfort, Jaime’s eyes were soft; softer than
anyone who had the displeasure of looking upon her before. His smile was as warm as his tone
when he responded.

“It’s fine. I’m eager to get home anyway. It’s best we move out.”

Home. Where is my home?

“Is your love there waiting for you?”

Brienne looked curiously at Jaime. She was surprised to see the confusion on his face.

“What?”

Inclining her chin towards his false hand, Brienne smiled warmly. “You said you lost your hand
defending the woman you love. Is she waiting for you in Westeros?”

Jaime opened his mouth to speak, but closed it quickly. He took a deep breath before responding.
“She died.”

Sorrow washed over Brienne. She didn’t know what was worse; being unloved or loving so deeply
and losing that love. Brienne attempted to change the subject quickly.

“So, I live in Westeros then?”

Jaime’s brows furrowed slightly as he lips pursed together. Nodding slowly, he looked to her.
“You do.”

“Do you know where? Embarrassing really. I don’t much know where to go once we get back.”

A slightly panicked expression passed over Jaime’s features, Brienne watched as he glanced to Jon
as if seeking aid. The king was still sleeping soundly by the dragon and showed no signs of
waking.

“Um. You had been living in the North in service to House Stark. That was before the siege at
King’s Landing though. Mayhap you should stay with the king for a bit before you decide where to
go?”

Decide where to go. So, am I not welcome in the North? I hardly know where to go. I hardly know
anything it would seem.

Brienne felt nervous at the thought. She had been killed by fellow soldiers. It seemed logical to
Brienne that she would not be welcome among Jon’s army. Thinking on it further, Brienne
wondered if anyone would be pleased that she was alive.

“Can I ask you something? Would you swear to only tell me the truth?”

Without hesitation, Jaime nodded eagerly. “Of course. I won’t lie to you.”

“Do I have any friends? Anyone who might not wish me dead?”

Jaime’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t offer an immediate answer. His hesitation made Brienne
wonder if it might have been best that she remained in Volantis.

Brienne looked down and sighed. She felt resigned to a fate that may see her needing to flee upon
arrival. Before she could voice her concern, Jaime founds his words.

“We’re friends. I’ll take care of you. And there’s Pod.”

“Pod?”

The name was unfamiliar, and Brienne’s frustration with herself began to mount. She wondered
how long she had known this ‘Pod’ who Jaime spoke of, and if he knew her better than Jaime did.

Mayhap he can tell me more of what I’ve been up to.

“Yes. He’s your squire. A good lad.”

Brienne felt her spirits sink.

Of course. A friend out of duty.

With a heavy sigh, Brienne looked towards the setting sun. “Women can’t be knights. I’m sure
he’s a lovely young man, but it might be best that I leave him be. He should serve a true knight.
Someone who can train him properly.”

“Were it not for you, he would have died. You trained him and he has grown to be an incredible
young man. I’m certain he wants for nothing more than to be at your side and someday be knighted
by you. He isn’t just your squire though. I think he fancies you his mother or something. He is
quite protective of you.”

Jaime spoke assuredly at her side. The tone caught Brienne by surprise, and she reconciled it was
best to not argue the point. Before she could speak again, Jaime spoke once more.

“You have other friends too. Admittedly, I’m not familiar with many of them. They are not fond of
me. Opposing sides and all.”

The hurt on his face gave Brienne reason to believe that perhaps he was being honest. It was
proving difficult to discern how welcome her presence in Westeros was. Another thought entered
her mind then. One she feared giving voice to, but a part of her needed to know.

“You said we are friends?”

Jaime nodded emphatically. “Yes. Well, no one knows me as well as you do. Or I suppose, as well
as you did.”

A deep guilt hit Brienne as she watched Jaime’s face fall at the words. It seemed she wasn’t the
only one impacted by her inability to remember everything. She was letting down this kind man
who gave her aid.

“I’m sorry that I can’t remember you. I want nothing more than to remember it all. But… do you
happen to know, seeing as we’re friends and all, is my father alive?”

The color left Jaime’s face at the question, and Brienne feared the worst. As he stammered,
Brienne felt her spirits fall.

I never made amends. I was a terrible daughter to him. The gods did my father a disservice,
leaving him with only me.

“He is alive. I believe he is waiting for us to return to King’s Landing. He was there for the summit
when Jon was acknowledged as king.”
Brienne’s brows rose. A small smile tugged at her lips. “Thank you. I’m glad he is well. For his
sake, I hope he is gone when we return.”

“Why? Don’t you wish to see him?”

Brienne was surprised at the question. Jaime claimed that she knew him better than anyone, but it
seemed the opposite was not true. The strained relationship that Brienne had with her father played
a significant role in her life.

“Oh. I just assumed that since I knew you so well… I’m sorry. I suppose I’m in no position to
assume anything. It’s nothing.”

Jaime shifted to face her more fully. “No. Tell me. You never talked much about Tarth. I don’t
know much other than you are an only child.”

Brienne’s brows again furrowed.

I don’t think he knows me well at all. Are we truly friends?

“Well, I’m now an only child. I don’t recall anyone bringing my siblings back from death. Gods.
My father will be horrified to find out that such an incredible feat was wasted one me. I wish
someone had brought my brother back.”

Brienne huffed a small laugh and looked away. The truth in her words felt both painful and
humorous. She would gladly exchange her life for Galladon’s.

“You never told me of any siblings. I just assumed you never had any. How many?”

“Three. An older brother who died at eight. Twin sisters who died in the cradle. I don’t much
remember them. I remember my mother even less. Though I wonder if I simply forgot that too.”

Brienne could feel Jaime staring at her intently. Glancing to him, she saw the question forming at
his tongue.

“How did your mother die?”

“Childbirth.”

Jaime sucked in a deep breath as he looked out over the sea.

“That’s how my mother died.” Jaime paused before looking back to her. “I met your father. He is
quite worried about you. I know he will await our return. He is… massive.”

The words themselves were not humorous, but the way Jaime said it made her chuckle.

“Were you expecting someone of average build? He made a monster such as me. Surely he wasn’t
to be small.”

Brienne once more chuckled to herself and kicked at some rocks near her feet.

“Don’t say that. You’re not a monster.”

At the words, Brienne startled. Descriptions of her had never been kind and ‘monster’ felt the least
cruel of them all. Beast. Cow. Giantess.

“I know what I look like. It’s quite alright. We needn’t pretend at lies for which the truth is in the
mirror.”

It was one teaching from her childhood that stuck with Brienne. While it hurt to receive the lesson
from her dreadful septa, Brienne was grateful for it. It proved truer than anything else she learned.

“You could never be a monster to me.”

Brienne snorted. “Yes, well I suppose that’s why we’re friends then. It’s a kindness that you
overlook my appearance, but you still have eyes. There is no need to speak falsely between us,
though I appreciate the intent.”

Jaime rubbed his forehead and mumbled to himself. “I wish you could remember.”

Yes, well that would make this easier on us both.

Jaime

Jaime was at war with himself. He wished for nothing more than to confess his love for Brienne,
but he was trying to be sympathetic to her plight.

It was likely alarming enough having forgotten years of her own life, but to have an unknown man
confess his love might well push her over the edge. It would be particularly jarring when she
learned that man’s true identity to be the ‘Kingslayer’.

Gods. She’s going to find out soon. I can’t expect all of Westeros to play into my lie.

Glancing to Jon, Jaime saw the king begin to stir. He groaned inwardly at the timing. Jaime wished
for more time to tell Brienne the truth of his identity.

Approaching footsteps signaled the king’s presence. “Are you both well enough to move out? I
think we should get back.”

With nods of agreement, they mounted Drogon once more. For Jaime, the physical proximity to
Brienne felt incredible, and it was well worth the torture of riding the great beast. Reality would
soon set in when they arrived, and it was likely Brienne would want nothing to do with him when
she found out who he was.

Jaime felt selfish in taking the opportunity for closeness. He sat flush against Brienne and held her
tightly. Breathing in the scent of her, Jaime was transported back to their bed at Winterfell. He
missed curling up behind her and holding her close.

Some hours later when they touched down outside of the Red Keep, Jaime held his breath as
Tyrion ran to them.

“Thank the gods! You did it! Oh, Ser Brienne! I feared that my br…”

From behind Brienne, Jaime waved his arms frantically at Tyrion and shouted to cut him off.
“Yes! Thank you. We’re back. Very successful.”

A strange look flashed across Tyrion’s features when their eyes met.

As they climbed down from Drogon, Jon approached Tyrion and whispered. Shock shone in
Tyrion’s eyes as he glanced between Brienne and Jaime. Before Jaime could speak, Tyrion
groaned.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jaime glanced nervously at Brienne, but she was distracted by the state of the city. Her eyes were
wide as she appraised the extensive damage and lingering smoke.

“Gods. Is this all from the siege? Are the people alright?”

Jon guided Brienne inside as Brienne continued to stare in shock at the state of the castle.

“Lets get you something to eat. There are some sections of the Keep untouched by the dragon’s
destruction.”

Glancing over his shoulder at Tyrion, Jon spoke inquisitively; his eyes darting between the
Lannister brothers.

“Is Lord Selwyn still here?”

Tyrion guffawed. “That is an understatement. Apparently, he has a lot of ideas for how we should
be handling reconstruction efforts. Tarth has been attacked quite a lot by pirates over the years, and
he seems accustomed to rebuilding catastrophes such as this. He brought food into the city at dawn
to ensure the wounded and homeless were given nourishment. I gather he’ll be back soon.”

Great. So, I only have so long with Brienne before Lord Selwyn exposes me and casts me out of her
life forever.

Jaime wanted to spend as much time with Brienne as he could, but he was taken aback by her
request of Jon.

“I imagine you’re quite busy, but would you mind terribly if I took some of your time? I just have
some questions.”

Jon glanced at Jaime as though seeking approval, but Jaime could do little more than look to the
ground as they walked. For as much as he wanted it, Jaime didn’t feel it was his place to occupy
Brienne’s time if it wasn’t what she wanted.

“Of course. Lets get you fed and then we can speak privately.”

Jaime’s eyes darted to Brienne and he could see the hint of a smile tug at her lips. It hurt to see her
wishing for another man’s time instead of his. A hint of jealousy gnawed at him, but he swallowed
it down. Brienne owed him nothing.

As the group made their way further inside, Jaime excused himself. He wished to be alone and
reflect on everything. It was starting to hit him how distressing the situation was. The woman he
loved didn’t know him and likely never would.

Perhaps this is the punishment that I’m owed.

Tyrion cast a strange look at Jaime, but Jaime hadn’t the necessary rest for any conversation with
Tyrion. He was tired both physically and emotionally.

“I just need some air.”

Tyrion snorted and rolled his eyes. “You spent the better part of the day on the back of a dragon.
Was that not enough air?”

With a heavy sigh, Jaime left without answer. Everything felt as though it was crashing in around
him; suffocating him from all sides. The gardens were largely untouched by the dragon’s fiery
breath and Jaime was glad of it.

While smoke still lingered over the city, Jaime could see more of the sun than he did while in the
North. He sat for some time looking over the Blackwater. Then he heard that voice.

“Ser Jaime. It would seem your flame was more than adequate to restore life.”

Bran. Gods damnit. Can I not have a moment’s peace?

Turning around, Jaime saw Arya wheeling Bran towards him. The young wolf rolled her eyes as
she placed Bran’s chair beside Jaime.

“I’ve been dealing with him all morning. He insisted on speaking with you. Good luck.”

Arya moved towards the Keep without another word. A deep sigh pushed passed Jaime’s lips as he
looked back out over the bay. The young man at his side spoke inquisitively without looking at
Jaime.

“You don’t seem pleased to have your love back.”

Jaime rolled his eyes before glancing at Bran. “Did you do this to torture me? Is this my true
punishment for my crimes against you and Brienne? I’m nothing to her now.”

A slight hum pushed passed Bran’s lips. “In truth, I did not know how she would return to the
living. She may have returned madder than Dany for all I knew. She may have returned with all
memories intact. I had no way of knowing. It wasn’t why I showed you everything.”

“Well why did you? You could have just told Jon where to find her. Why show me other than to
hurt me?”

Bran turned to Jaime and met his eyes. There was no mirth playing across his features nor in his
voice when he spoke.

“There were a few reasons. Mainly, it was the only way for Jon to see what he was meant to
become. You showed him what a king should be. Many years ago at Winterfell, he thought you a
king. Now he saw you act as one. Without your actions in King’s Landing to lead by example, he
would have fled north of the Wall. I hardly wanted what would have come next.”

Great. So, I’m nothing more than Jon’s muse.

Jaime’s brows furrowed at the words. “What would have come next?”

Bran smirked. “They would have made me king.”

Jaime scoffed and shook his head. “Gods. I thought it was me who took a brick to the head.
Mayhap you were in that Keep after all. You… king? I think not. Master of Whisperers maybe.”

Bran shook his head and looked back over the bay. “It’s as unfathomable as dead rising and
dragons flying. I know. I’ll admit, however. Part of my reason for aiding you was rather human. A
revenge of my own sort. In a different world where I was named king, my own sister turned against
me. I gave Sansa her independence and she waged war against me. She played at peace and
collaboration, but she grew hungry for more power once she got a taste of it in the North.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the words. Bran looked out over the harbor; a slight breeze blowing
through his hair as he continued. “As I said, I also needed you to show Jon the way. When Jon
died, he had his own regrets. Regrets different from Brienne’s last thoughts. He went to the Night’s
Watch to become something other than a bastard. They made him Lord Commander and killed him
for his decisions as a leader. He never asked for it. He never wanted it. He returned to life wanting
to avoid leadership. He didn’t want anything really. You reminded him what he truly wanted.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Me? I’m hardly an example to anyone. More likely that I’m
an example of what not to do.”

With a tone that brokered no argument, Bran looked at Jaime once more and spoke confidently.
“You reminded him of two things that once meant everything to him. Love and duty. Love is the
greatest form of acceptance we can have. He always wanted to be accepted and you reminded him
of the love he lost. Not the fleeting love he felt for Daenerys, but the true love he held for another;
Ygritte. Since losing her, Jon had grown despondent. You reminded him of that love. Of how love
drove him to do things he otherwise would not.”

Jaime couldn’t continue to look Bran in the eyes. It hurt too much to think on the words. The young
man continued speaking at Jaime’s side.

“You reminded him of his duty. The need to fight injustice with justice. When he saw what you did
to Cersei, your twin and the woman you once loved, you reminded Jon that we are all called to do
things we don’t want for the greater good. If you could kill Cersei after all you were to one
another, Jon knew he could do was best for the realm. It is his duty to serve as king, as it was your
duty to save it from madness. Had he accepted that responsibility sooner, we might have avoided
much of this.”

The words rolled around in Jaime’s mind. If there was one thing that Jaime was confident in, it was
what a poor example he was to most. His reputation as a knight was shit and now his reputation in
the treatment of noblewoman was equally deplorable.

“Then there is the matter of Ser Brienne herself…”

At Bran’s words, Jaime was shaken from his thoughts. His brows furrowed as he looked to Bran.
Bran’s face was often inexpressive, but as Jaime appraised him now, the young man appeared
sorrowful.

“Were it not for Ser Brienne, neither of us would be alive.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed. “I don’t understand. She saved you too?”

“Indirectly, yes. If Brienne didn’t save Sansa, Jon would not have fought to reclaim Winterfell.
Instead, he would have fled to Essos. Arya would have gone south to kill Cersei. Then she would
have left to sail west of Westeros, thinking all her family dead. Daenerys would have focused on
the throne and struggled to build allies to unite the kingdoms. Westeros would have been overrun
by the dead.”

Great. My actions killed the woman who saved humanity. Now I feel wonderful.

Suddenly, it felt fitting that Brienne couldn’t remember him. Jaime didn’t feel worthy to be in the
same Keep as her let alone have anything he truly wanted with her. A thought swirled in Jaime’s
mind that he feared giving voice to, but he needed to know. He wanted Brienne to be happy more
than he wanted to find his own happiness.

“Will Brienne regain her memories?”

At the question, Bran tilted his head and looked at Jaime. “I hardly know the answer to that. Not
many have been resurrected before. From what I’ve seen, those that were and had lost their
memories never regained them.”

The answer wasn’t an unexpected one, but disappointing, nonetheless. Jaime wished for nothing
more than to make Brienne happy, even if it meant letting her go.

“Would she be better off not remembering me?”

Bran considered the question before meeting Jaime’s eyes. “I can no sooner tell you when you’ll
die. I only see glimpses of things that may come to pass.”

With a heavy sigh, Jaime looked away and nodded. It hurt to consider that Brienne might be better
off without him ruining her life more than he already had. As painful as it would be, he at least
wanted Brienne to know how much he loved her. It had been his greatest regret followed by his
decision to leave Winterfell.

At his side, Bran spoke once more. A hint of curiosity touched his tone. “Kinvara was correct in
one thing. Love is greater than thirst for vengeance or hate. I’ve never seen someone raised where
love brought them back.”

A smirk tugged at Bran’s lips when he met Jaime’s confused expression. “Mayhap a love great
enough to beat death, can also be great enough to restore memory.”

A spark of hope lit in Jaime at Bran’s words. Considering something, he narrowed his eyes at the
young man. “Couldn’t you just visit her in sleep and show her everything?”

“Where would the fun be in that?” Bran’s lips curled into a vicious smirk.

Seven hells. He does intend to punish me with this.

Chuckling more to himself than Jaime, Bran looked back out at the bay. “No, in truth, it doesn’t
quite work that way. I’ve only been able to enter the mind of those nearest death, which you were,
or those who are simple. The mind is more open to such invasions. I can no sooner visit Brienne’s
dreams than I can enter your mind now. I can’t explain how it works, but it simply doesn’t. Trust
me, I’ve tried. I could have spared us all much trouble.”

Oh. I suppose he isn’t a complete dick. Then again, I pushed him from a window, so he would have
been within his right to refuse aid.

Bran looked to Jaime once more with a serious expression on his face. “I will offer this advice from
my more human experiences. Communicate. Words can work wonders. You and Brienne should
try it some time.”
 Strangers and Friends
Chapter Summary

Brienne speaks with Jon. Brienne and Jaime then have a spar.

Brienne

“Thank you for speaking with me. I know you’re busy and I won’t take much of your time.”
Brienne spoke as she sat opposite Jon in in the small room at the Keep.

He had apologized for the state of things. The castle was in shambles after the siege. Large sections
of the Keep were unusable as teams of skilled laborers worked to restore it.

The room they were in appeared to have been a guest room. There was a large bed at one corner
with modest offerings scattered throughout, including the table Brienne and Jon now sat at.

Jon smiled warmly and shook his head. “It’s no trouble at all. It’s the least I can do for you after
how much you’ve done for my family and the realm.”

How strange to be told such things that I can’t recall.

Taking a deep breath, Brienne began to address the first matter on her mind.

“This Jaime Hill… sometimes I think he’s going out of his way to be nice to me. It makes me
wonder why. Perhaps he feels some guilt? Was he involved in my death? I… I saw his eyes in my
dream as I’m dying, but he turns away.”

Jon’s brows rose to his hairline at the words. He looked away as if searching for the answer. With
a heavy sigh, he spoke less than confidently.

“He wasn’t there. You two were quite close before your death. It would be an understatement to
say he was devastated. As to why you see the visions you do in sleep, I can only tell you that it isn’t
uncommon. I saw the face of someone important to me when I died, but she wasn’t there for my
death.”

Brienne considered the words. Her brows knitted together as she recalled what Jon had shared of
his death.

“The red priestess asked what I thought of when I died. My regrets and feelings. What did you
recall?”

The question seemed to pain Jon and Brienne immediately regretted being so invasive. In truth, she
felt alone, and Jon was in a unique position to commiserate with. It gave Brienne comfort to know
that someone else went through the same experience; even if under different circumstances.

“I grew up a bastard and I was treated as such. The lady of Winterfell hated me, though I can’t say
that I blame her. I always wanted to know who my mother was, and I wanted to feel accepted, but
there was nothing for me in the North. I felt as though I had no purpose, so I joined the Night’s
Watch. It seemed a place that I could make a difference and be something more than a bastard.
When they named me Lord Commander, I didn’t want it, but I did my duty. Then they killed me
for it and I regretted it. I regretted joining and accepting the role of Lord Commander. It was the
last thing I remembered. Not wanting it.”

Jon huffed a small laugh. “When the red priestess brought me back, I wanted to leave. I didn’t feel
like I belonged anywhere until you showed up with Sansa. She looked to broken and sad. You
saved her life and rescued her from House Bolton. She convinced me to help her reclaim
Winterfell. When we won and the vassals named me king in the North, I didn’t want it. I hated it.
In a way, I was relived when Daenerys showed up. Once I saw her fight for us, I thought she would
make a good queen, and so I bent the knee. I didn’t know of my true lineage then, but it wouldn’t
have made a difference. I didn’t want to be king of the Seven Kingdoms any more than I wanted to
be king in the North.”

Nodding slowly, Brienne digested the information. The man before her seemed as resigned to the
crown as she felt resigned to another life without love.

“Why did you take it then? The crown that is.”

Jon scratched at his chin and sighed. “It was Jaime. He did something that reminded me of the man
I wanted to be before I died. He reminded me of the things I was taught and the role that I was
meant to play. He’s a good man and he made some difficult decisions for the greater good.”

A good man. But why does he feel different to me than Jon? I don’t remember either of them, but
something feels deeper with Jaime.

A hint of unease touched Brienne’s tone as she met Jon’s eyes. “Did you forget things as I have?”

The look on Jon’s face was answer enough. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why you forgot so much.
Gods, I don’t know if it’s a blessing or curse.”

Brienne’s lips turned down as she looked to her hands. Her last question was one that she was
slightly embarrassed to ask. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat before glancing at Jon.

“I feel a bit foolish in asking this, but I think that Jaime is trying to be delicate with me. It’s as
though he doesn’t want me to know the truth of what happened. I’m fearful of overstaying my
welcome. It seems I was disliked enough that I was killed. Should I leave? Please be honest with
me. It would hurt more to stay, thinking my presence wanted. I don’t want to trouble anyone.”

Jon’s eyes went wide. “You are well regarded. It was a small group that killed you. A group that
had history with you and Jaime. They were members of House Bolton. The two of you had
dealings with the House before the war and it seems they harbored much hate for him in particular.
Well, it was likely they remembered your involvement in helping us reclaim Winterfell from their
liege lord.”

A slight relief washed over Brienne. She had feared being unknowingly hated for having returned.
Before she could offer her thanks at Jon’s honestly, he spoke again.

“You are a knight and one of the best we have. Not only are you one of our most skilled fighters,
your loyalty is unrivaled. I was hoping you might consider becoming the Lady Commander of my
Kingsguard. Of course, I intend to change the law so that Kingsguard may marry. I couldn’t ask
you otherwise.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide. It was an incredible honor, but it felt unearned. She couldn’t remember
the people around her let alone whatever she had done to be considered in such a way.
“Your Grace that is an incredible honor. To be honest, I’m not much concerned with your affording
the rite of marriage to the Kingsguard. It was never an option for me anyway. I struggle to
understand how I could have earned your consideration. All I recall is being a soldier in Renly’s
camp. Even then, I wasn’t well-regarded by the men. I was a great jape to them.”

Jon’s lips pressed into a firm line and his eyes shone with sympathy. “I understand the feeling of
not being accepted. Trust me in that you were, and you still are. I can’t ask for your answer now.
There are many things that you should know first. You’re the heir to your House and there are
other considerations which are not my place to share. You should speak with Jaime. He likely has
an opinion or two on the matter.”

Gods. Back to this Jaime fellow again.

Brienne bit her lip and considered Jon’s words. Her hand twitched as it reached for a sword that
wasn’t there. It was a reaction that startled Brienne, as she never used to have such a nervous habit.
With a slight hum, Brienne spoke more to herself than Jon.

“He feels so familiar to me. I don’t know why.”

Jon chuckled from across the table. “Aye, as I said. You two were close. I don’t have much
firsthand account of your history together. My cousin, Lord Bran, shared much of your journey
with me and the others.”

“I’m sorry. How do I know Lord Bran? Does he know me well? Who has he shared information
with?”

The questions seemed straightforward enough, but Jon’s response made them seem anything but.

“You should speak with Bran. My cousin sees things. He can see into the past and he has visions of
the future. I know it sounds unbelievable, but so does everything of late. When the siege at King’s
Landing happened, we were uncertain about Jaime’s intentions. He was unconscious for the past
moon turn, so Bran shared it all. He spoke to me, his sister Arya, and Lord Tyrion Lannister. You
and Jaime have quite the history together.”

Jon chuckled at his own words before composing himself. “If nothing else, your journey together
helped my cousin, Arya, see that she can remain true to herself while accepting her role at
Winterfell among other things. Oh! And Pod! We told Pod immediately.”

At the name, Brienne’s spirits lifted. “Jaime mentioned a Pod as well. Mayhap he can help me
remember some things."

Jon smiled warmly at Brienne. “Jaime and Pod are the best chance you’ll have of piecing it all
together. Your squire was quite upset when he heard of everything. I believe you’re the closest
thing he has to kin.”

Hope blossomed in Brienne as she stood from her seat. “Thank you. I appreciate it. It’s nice to not
feel alone in this. I just wish I could remember it all.”

Standing from across the table, Jon nodded. “Aye, it is. I would be happy to speak with you
anytime you like. There don’t seem to be many of us walking around. The resurrected that is.”

Jaime
After spending some time staring out at the Blackwater with Bran, Jaime spotted Brienne roaming
the gardens in the distance. Without so much as a parting word to Bran, Jaime leapt from his perch
on the rock wall and ran to her.

“Ser Brienne. All done with that dull, brooding king?”

Brienne’s eyes widened at the words. “You can’t speak of your king that way. It isn’t proper.”

“When have I ever been proper?”

As soon as the words were out, Jaime’s spirits fell at the recollection that she didn’t remember
anything about him, including his inappropriateness. With a disappointed sigh, Jaime shrugged.

“Sorry. Where are you going?”

Brienne’s brows furrowed slightly as she peered over Jaime’s shoulder. “King Jon said the training
yards were out here somewhere. I just need a sword in hand to feel more myself.”

Jaime understood the feeling. With a sword in hand, his blood sang. Nothing felt so good as
fighting or fucking, but he couldn’t very well do the latter at the moment. The thought went
straight to his cock as his traitorous mind conjured images from the moon turn he spent in
Brienne’s bed, exploring her body.

“I’ll spar with you. I know where the training yards are.”

Without awaiting a response, Jaime put his flesh hand on the small of Brienne’s back and urged her
forward. Sparring with Brienne was one of the things that Jaime missed most. They seemed made
for one another when they fought together.

It was as though his body could always sense her next move. When they fought the dead at
Winterfell, her limbs felt a mere extension of his own. He could sense when she needed aid, and
she the same of him.

As they walked to the yards, Jaime spoke of her impressive combat record. He informed Brienne of
her defeat of the Hound in single combat, and her successful leadership in the battle against the
dead.

“My track record in combat isn’t as stellar. From what I’m privy to, you’re two for two.”

Brienne snorted and shook her head. “The Hound? Sandor Clegane? Truly, you jape. What reason
would I even have to fight him?”

“Your oath to Lady Catelyn. The Hound would not release Arya Stark to you.”

As they reached the yards, Jaime moved to the armory to retrieve two swords. When he returned,
Brienne was standing in the middle of the yards stretching. A smile tugged at his lips when he
handed her a sword.

He watched her grasp the hilt and roll her wrist back and forth, testing the sword’s weight and her
grip. They lined up across from one another, raising their swords.

Appraising her, Jaime reminded himself that she had spent a full day dead after two moons of
malnourishment on the road. Her body was weak and likely unable to go full speed. The bruising
from the noose around her neck was a constant reminder of how dark his world could have
remained.
Remembering their fight on the bridge, Jaime smirked. She never made the first move. Her
strategy was assessing her opponent’s style and taking advantage of being underestimated.

When they first fought, Jaime had gone on the offensive; not taking her seriously. His strategy was
proven horribly wrong when she gained the upper hand before Locke arrived. The incredible
strength she possessed had been what caught him most by surprise.

They circled one another and Jaime bit back a laugh as Brienne’s brows furrowed. She likely
wondered why he had yet to attack.

“I’ve fought you before. Don’t think me so foolish as to rush in unprepared.”

Realization dawned on Brienne and a small huff of laughter pushed passed her lips. “Ah. Yes.
Very well.”

Unexpectedly, Brienne surged forward. The sudden movement caught Jaime unaware and he found
himself quickly back on his heels. Her blows were stronger than he expected.

A wide smile tugged at Jaime’s lips once he steadied himself and countered. Typical Brienne. Even
after just coming back from death, she is stronger than most.

They sparred for some time and Jaime hadn’t noticed the presence of Bronn and Tyrion at the edge
of the yards. The two knights moved as they did during the battle at Winterfell. It seemed
Brienne’s body remembered what her mind could not.

For Jaime, nothing had changed. The thought of her retaining familiarity with his style was a
pleasant surprise. They went back and forth for some time until Jaime could see Brienne fading.

It was too much of a physical exertion on her body after the ordeal it had been through. Feigning
his own fatigue, Jaime proposed a water break. When his sword dropped to his side, a smile curled
at the corners of Brienne’s lips.

“Thank you. I feel much better now.”

Jaime felt his heart beat faster at the sight of her smile. Before he could respond, Brienne’s brows
knitted as something indecipherable flashed across her features. Glancing at him, Brienne spoke
uncertainly.

“It’s strange. It was as though I knew what you would do before you did it. Like my body knew
yours and how it should respond.”

A spark of hope ignited in Jaime as he took a step towards her; a smile spreading across his face.
Loud laughter echoed through the yards. Glancing over his shoulder, Jaime saw Bronn slap his
knee and smirk.

“Oh yeah. Ya could say ya know one another’s bodies intimately.”

Jaime felt his cheeks redden in rage at Bronn. A forming reprimand died at Jaime’s lips when he
heard Brienne’s shaky voice at his back.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Turning back to Brienne, Jaime noticed the blush spreading across her face as she moved quickly
towards the armory to return the sword.
“Brienne, wait. Bronn is a fucking idiot. Ignore him.”

Jaime caught up and grabbed her wrist before she could leave the armory. “Please, stop. I’m not
embarrassed.”

“He mocked you because of me. I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone would take my meaning that
way.”

Brienne refused to meet his eyes as Jaime kept his hand firmly around her wrist. “He didn’t mock
me. He was being rude, but that’s just the way he is. You should ignore him.”

When he felt confident that Brienne wouldn’t run from him, Jaime released her wrist and tried
desperately to read her expression.

“I only meant to say that fighting you felt… familiar. I suppose that was stupid to say anyway. You
said we fought together so I imagine we trained together. Correct?”

Brienne peered at him through her lashes. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes and Jaime
wanted to give an honest answer.

“We fought only once before facing the dead together. After the dead, we sparred almost daily for
a moon turn before I left for the siege.”

A small smile formed at Brienne’s lips. It seemed a validation she needed.

“Thank you. For sparring with me that is. The men at Renly’s camp refused to. They likely thought
they would be mocked as you were just now. Of course, it doesn’t help when I say stupid things
like that.”

It was an opportunity that Jaime couldn’t resist. Remembering Bran’s words from earlier, Jaime
summoned the courage and tried to convey what he was feeling.

“Well then they were great dolts who were likely afraid of getting knocked into the dirt by a better
opponent. And I wasn’t being mocked. Bronn was teasing me because…”

Like the night of the feast, Jaime’s mouth went dry. His heart raced as past opportunities for
honesty came and went.

Because… I came to Winterfell because…

Brienne’s brows furrowed as Jaime stammered slightly. His palm began to sweat, and Jaime
questioned the timing of it all.

She still has no idea who I am. She thinks I’m Jaime Hill.

Before Jaime could continue, Tyrion came to the armory door. “Pardon the interruption. Ser
Brienne, your father is looking for you.” Glancing at Jaime, Tyrion raised a brow. “Bronn is
holding him off.”

Seven hells.

“Thank you, Lord Tyrion.” Brienne’s lips pressed into a formal smile as Tyrion walked away.
Before leaving, Brienne glanced at Jaime.

“Do you mind if we spar again some time?”

A triumphant smile spread across Jaime’s face as his eyes sparkled. “I would like that.”

“Good.” Brienne hesitated slightly; a thought at the tip of her tongue as she looked back at him.
“You’re not so bad, you know. I can tell the left is your offhand. It was the sword hand you lost,
correct?”

Jaime snorted. An amused expression lined his features. “Wow. I’m glad that I’m not so bad. Were
you going easy on me? Yes, I lost the sword hand. I can assure you though, I was not much better
with the right. I thought I was, but a better opponent put me in my place. I suppose I was a bit
overpraised.”

“Yes, well, mayhap if you keep working at it.”

Brienne’s matter-of-fact tone elicited a loud guffaw from Jaime. With a spark of amusement in his
eye, Jaime bit his lip to collect himself before providing a parting thought of his own.

“Yes, well, mayhap I can offer you some advice. You shouldn’t grimace before you lunge. It gives
away the game.”

At his words, Brienne startled. Turning back to him, Brienne’s brows furrowed, and her mouth
gaped slightly.

Gods. Did she remember that?

Jaime took a step forward, his eyes searching hers. “Brienne. Are you alright? Did you remember
something.”

A heavy silence hung over them as Brienne seemed to work something out in her mind. It was as
thought she was reciting something from a story rather than her own life.

“You were slower than I expected.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide, and his hand moved to her cheek, urging her eyes to meet his. “Yes! You
remember that?”

“Was that a conversation we had? I just… it’s the strangest feeling. It’s like we’ve had this
conversation before. I can hear the words, but I can’t see it. The full memory isn’t there.”

“Yes, we have. We said those things to each other.”

Brienne’s brows remained furrowed as she stared into his eyes. “Did I fight you before you lost
your hand?”

Jaime swallowed thickly and glanced down at his false hand. “Yes, you did.”

“Huh. Strange.” Brienne sighed and shook her head. As she left the armory, Jaime felt an
overwhelming relief wash over him.

If she can remember that, surely I can get her to remember the rest.
 Trust and Betrayal
Chapter Summary

Jaime has lunch with Tyrion, Bronn, and Pod. Brienne has lunch with Selwyn. What
could possibly go wrong?

Jaime

Jaime could feel Pod glaring at him from across the table in the great hall. After the spar with
Brienne, Jaime had felt hunger set in. It had been some time since he ate a proper meal, and his
body was beginning to fatigue from its own ordeal. Despite it, Jaime felt weightless.

A smile was plastered across his face from the recent development in the armory. Jaime was
determined to find the Tarly boy and see if he could help. After hearing Jon praise Sam’s skill, and
learning of the successful treatment to cure Ser Jorah’s greyscale, Jaime wondered if the man could
figure out a solution for Brienne’s memory.

From what Tyrion said, Brienne was taking lunch in the garden with her father. Begrudgingly,
Jaime agreed to take lunch with Tyrion, Bronn, and Pod.

Jaime was still seething from Bronn’s comment in the yards. Although vexing, Jaime found it
difficult to be too upset at the sellsword given the conversation it prompted in the armory. With a
sigh, Jaime put down his fork.

It had not been an hour since Jaime last saw Brienne, but it felt an eternity. As Jaime sat quietly
listening to Tyrion and Bronn talk, he recalled the past events that prompted Brienne’s memory.

Visions of their fight on the bridge and riding a horse back-to-back came to the forefront of his
mind. A foolish grin spread across Jaime’s face as the memory played out in his mind. Jaime
glanced up and met the cold stare of Pod.

It was the first time he truly looked at the young man since Winterfell. The anger radiating off Pod
was palpable. Aside from Selwyn, Pod felt another obstacle to securing Brienne’s forgiveness.

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself. What you did to Ser Brienne was disgusting. I want for
nothing more than to run you through with Oathkeeper.”

While Bran, Arya, Jon, and Tyrion had told Pod of Jaime’s intent in leaving Winterfell, Pod hardly
shared their willingness to accept his approach. In truth, Pod cared little for what Jaime intended
when it had such an adverse effect on Brienne’s feelings.

Bronn chuckled at Pod’s side and clapped the boy’s shoulders. “Poddy boy, I’ve missed ya. This
cunt here has been draggin’ me around, nearly gettin’ me killed for years. What do I have to show
for it? Death glares. I jumped in front of a dragon for his stupid arse!”

At the words, Tyrion groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“That was truly stupid, Jaime. I don’t recall if I told you as much at Winterfell.”
Rage coursed through Jaime as he ignored Tyrion and looked at Bronn.

“Did you share with Poddy boy how you threatened to kill his lady knight?”

At Jaime’s words, Pod’s head snapped to Bronn. “What!?”

Putting up defensive hands, Bronn leaned away from the table. “I didn’t give no names.”

“You had a crossbow aimed at us! You had already mentioned Brienne, and then you said that you
would pick off a couple of Daenerys’ top generals! Who the fuck did you mean if not Brienne!?”

Tyrion put a steadying hand on Jaime’s arm and tried to calm him. Nearby castle occupants looked
over in concern at the scene playing out.

Bronn leaned across the table at Jaime. His lips curled in anger as he spoke. “So what if I let ya
think that I meant her. Apparently, ya did a lot of thinkin’ and not a lot of talkin’. I’m not the one
who left her alone in a courtyard. I’m not the one who caused that cunt to turn on her. I’m certainly
not the one who is the reason she is known as ‘Kingslayer’s Whore’. Ya left me in King’s Landin’
with ya batshit crazy sister, and I still didn’t murder ya! I helped ya when ya needed it again.”

Unable to control himself further, Jaime stood abruptly and wound back his fist to hit Bronn square
across the jaw, but another hand got to Bronn’s face first.

Bronn fell backwards to the floor at the impact to his nose; his eyes wide in shock. Glancing at
Pod, Jaime saw nothing but rage on his face.

“Don’t say that name! Ser Brienne is not, and never was the Kingslayer’s…” Pod looked away in
anger before turning back to Bronn. “She deserved better than all of you.”

The young man stormed away from the table, leaving them staring in shock. Bronn groaned as
blood poured from his nose.

“Fuckin’ hells. My nose!”

Tyrion smirked at the sellsword; amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Oh shut up. It’s not broken.
You should know. Remember.”

At Tyrion’s reference to their conversation in the North, Bronn huffed a small laugh. “Gods
damned Lannisters. My life has been truly exhaustin’. No amount of coin is worth all the shit I
gotta put up with.”

Without another word, Bronn left the table in a huff. Jaime glared at Tyrion and took a steadying
breath.

“How can you even associate with him!? Did you lose your memory too? He threatened us at
Winterfell! Whether he said her name or not, he threatened Brienne. If that wasn’t bad enough, he
embarrassed her in the yards!”

“And yet he aided us. He saved you again. Everything he said in the dragonpit was true. He
followed you south from Winterfell. He hid you from the Unsullied. He found a maester to treat
you before we could safely bring you into the Keep. He then sat at your bedside for a gods damned
moon turn, tending to you. He was practically a nursemaid while I was sitting in a damn cell.”

Jaime grumbled and pushed away his plate. Burying his head in his arms, Jaime closed his eyes and
willed it all away. He just wanted to hold Brienne and try to help her remember more.
Knowing that she was with her father set him on edge. It was likely the older lord was busy
expressing his distaste for Jaime and finding a way to get Brienne back to Tarth.

A warm hand came to Jaime’s shoulder.

“I can’t imagine how it must feel to watch Brienne look at you with as much recognition as a
stranger, but please, try to remember that you weren’t the only one hurt by all of this.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed as met Tyrion’s eyes. “What?”

Tyrion sighed and took a sip of his wine. “Pod has been a mess. He wanted to kill Sansa himself,
but refrained from doing so as he feared letting down Brienne. He’ll come around. I don’t think he
truly hates you deep down, but you hurt the most important person in his life; even if
unintentionally.”

Taking a deep breath, Tyrion played with the stem of his wine cup up before continuing. “From
what I’ve heard, Selwyn was a nightmare to deal with. I suppose it was best that I was in the cells.
The man was practically dragged to the pit yesterday by Davos and Gendry. He wanted little more
than to charge ahead on a horse and collect his daughter’s body. His last living kin. He thought
himself the last Tarth. Apparently, he has many regrets where it concerns Brienne. Then of course,
there is me…”

Tyrion rolled his eyes and took another sip of wine.

“You!? You hardly know Brienne. How could you have been hurt by everything that befell her?”

“That may be true, but my brother is quite important to me. Have you met him? Tall, one hand,
greatest dolt who ever lived.”

Tyrion scoffed and looked away before taking a deep breath. “You let me think Cersei was
pregnant with your babe. I tired to treat with her because of it. I thought I could appeal to the only
human quality she ever possessed. Had I known the truth, I wouldn’t have paraded Daenerys, her
dragon, nor her army before the city gates to intimidate Cersei into surrendering. My failed effort to
spare the life of a non-existent babe. Missandei might not have been executed and none of this shit
would have happened.”

Jaime felt himself sinking deeper into some awful pit from which he could never crawl out. He
inwardly berated himself for more unintended consequences from his lack of communication. At
his side, Tyrion took another sip of wine before slapping the cup down angrily.

“Then, you neglect to tell me the truth of your return south! I nearly got myself killed for you! I set
you free thinking it would make you happy to be with Cersei, even though I knew it would mean
my own death! I spent hours searching for your body, Jaime!”

Tyrion ran an angry hand over his face and took a deep breath. “And while yes, I hardly know
Brienne, I’m quite distraught at the loss of a true niece or nephew. One that I could watch my
brother hold and be a father to. A niece or nephew that I could spend time with, without the
scrutinizing eye of our lovely sister. It broke my heart what happened to the children. Now another
is gone.”

Jaime reeled back as if slapped. At the mention of the babe lost to Sansa’s cruelty, Jaime felt a sea
of churned up emotions; each more despondent than the last. Self-loathing won out as he stared
intently at his half-eaten food.

“So maybe I should be the one who goes to Essos. It sems that I’m only capable of fucking things
up. Then you won’t have to worry about me destroying your life just as I’ve destroyed Brienne’s
and apparently everyone else.”

Tyrion huffed in annoyance and turned on his seat to face Jaime fully.

“Stop being melodramatic. You are always so quick to rush in without a plan. You have very little
regard for consequences. Don’t you?”

Tyrion looked pointedly to Jaime’s false hand before continuing.

“While your intentions are often in the right place, your execution is shit. Further, your inability to
communicate anything that might render you vulnerable is pathetic. Now you have a second
chance. A chance that most of us never get, and you’re fucking it up.”

“Fucking it up? I’ve only just returned from Volantis with her!”

Tyrion snorted and crossed his arms. “Oh, yes. Only a day in and already you’re off to another shit
start, Jaime Hill. You’ve lied to a woman who has forgotten years of her life. A woman in
desperate of honesty right now.”

Realization hit Jaime as his eyes went wild with fear.

Oh fuck. She’s having lunch with Selwyn. He doesn’t know of my lie.

Brienne

It was strange seeing her father knowing that it had been years, but to Brienne, it only felt like
moons. He looked older and weary. There was a stillness to him that she had never thought
possible. He was a man always on the move with very little time for her on Tarth.

“You never wrote. Not once.” Selwyn bit his lip and looked away to collect himself. “The only
thing I heard of you was a ransom note from House Bolton. A ransom, mind you, that was
rejected! You truly couldn’t think to write me after that?”

“I don’t know why. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else to say or do. You keep saying things to
me as though I should have an answer for events that seem little more than a story rather than my
life.”

Brienne felt her frustration building. It was a frightening sensation to come back from death and
hold no knowledge of the woman she became to those around her.

Brienne wondered if there were others among them who, like the Bolton soldiers, harbored an
unspoken hatred for her.

Will they try to hang me again or worse? Gods. I don’t want to be raised again if it happens.

A large hand gripped at her forearm as Brienne closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. Strangely,
all she could think of was wanting to see Jaime. His eyes lit up the darkness behind her eyelids.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you, child. Just days ago, I arrived to find out you were exiled to
Essos. Then before the dragonpit meeting, I’m told you died. Now you’re here before me, and you
can’t remember a bloody thing of it. I’m overwhelmed is all. I imagine you’re just as confused, if
not more so.”
Brienne sighed and opened her eyes. She remembered her father’s last words before she left Tarth
for Renly’s camp.

‘Come back with a husband or not at all.’ What did he expect of me? What does he expect from me
now? Clearly, he can see from how I was killed that I am far from lovable. I can’t be what he
needs.

“I imagine you didn’t hear from me, because I had nothing to say that would please you. I’m sorry
that I am all you were left with. I wish the gods had seen fit to raise Galladon instead of me. You
would have a proper heir for Tarth. I can’t give you what you want. I’m not… no man will have
me.”

Selwyn grimaced at the words and looked away. His knuckles rapped the table as he struggled with
something.

“Don’t speak of yourself in such a way. The gods took pity on me by bringing you back. Losing
you would have been the death of me.”

The words shocked Brienne. Her father had always been emotionally distant after her siblings and
mother died, but such words had never graced his lips.

With a heavy sigh, Selwyn shook his head and met her eyes. “I don’t want you near the Kingslayer.
I don’t care what his intentions were. I don’t care how many times he saved this godsforsaken
city.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed at the words.

“The Kingslayer? Why would I be near the man? I’ve never even met him. What does the
Kingslayer have to do with any of this?”

A sarcastic laugh pushed passed Selwyn’s lips as he looked to her. When he saw the confusion in
her sapphire pools, Selwyn’s eyes went wide.

“What? You jest. The Kingslayer is at the very heart of this! Who the hells do you think brought
you back here!?”

Brienne’s brows knitted in confusion. “King Jon and Jaime Hill.” As the words came out,
realization dawned on Brienne.

Did he lie to me? Is his name Jaime Lannister?

Selwyn stared at her in shock. Without another word, Brienne’s father stood from his seat. His
massive hand rubbed at his face. A grunt of frustration erupted from his lips as he looked towards
the Keep and grumbled.

“I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

Uncertain what to make of the situation, Brienne sat rooted in place. As if on cue, Jaime came
running into the gardens with Tyrion struggling to keep up. “Brienne!”

In the distance, Selwyn cut off Jaime’s path to Brienne. His hand came up to halt Jaime’s progress.
Brienne observed her father berating Jaime from a distance. For his part, Jaime only grimaced and
took the verbal thrashing.

Needing to know for herself who he truly was, Brienne stood from her seat and walked over
slowly. Her eyes were a question as she stared at Jaime. Moving towards her, Jaime put up a
defensive hand. At his back, Tyrion and Selwyn continued squabbling.

If Brienne wasn’t so upset at the potential betrayal of her trust, she might have laughed at the pair
over Jaime’s shoulders. Each of their necks strained to look at the other.

“Brienne. I’m so sorry! I just… I was afraid to tell you my last name without you knowing me
first.”

“Are you the Kingslayer? Jaime Lannister?”

The look on Jaime’s face was confession enough.

“I can explain! Please.”

It felt as though the wind was knocked out of Brienne. She had trusted Jaime, and he couldn’t be
honest enough to share his identity. “You lied to me.”

Desperation flashed in Jaime’s eyes as he glanced to Brienne. “Please. It’s the only thing I lied
about. You forgot all we’ve been through together. If I told you who I was when you only knew
me as the Kingslayer, you wouldn’t have returned with us.”

Anger and betrayal flared in Brienne as realization sunk in.

He lied to me. I asked for honesty and he took advantage of me.

“So because you can’t control my feelings or how you think I’ll react, you lie? I trusted you. I
thought you were a good man.”

Hurt shone in Jaime’s eyes at the words. At his back, Tyrion and Selwyn continue to bicker; their
arms pointing frantically at Jaime. Brienne couldn’t be bothered to listen to what they were saying.
Since returning to this world, the man she thought trustworthy had betrayed her.

Was King Jon lying too? Am I not well-regarded? Is my presence not wanted?

An incredible pain and hurt gripped Brienne. She took a step back and felt as though she needed to
get away from everyone. Moving towards the Keep, Brienne made her way to the room that Jon
had assigned her.

With the door shut and locked, Brienne sat on the bed and cried. She felt lost and alone; a harsh
reminder of how alone she was before death.

Gods. Why did the bring me back? Why would I befriend the Kingslayer? It makes no sense.

A knock at the door cut through Brienne’s thoughts. “Brienne.”

Jaime’s voice called out from the other side of the door. The sound of his voice brought another
wave of pain. Conflicting emotions waged war inside Brienne.

She simultaneously wanted to see Jaime and send him away. It seemed that the only person who
made her feel comfortable was the same person who lied to her.

“What?” Brienne refused to stand from the bed and let him in. He did nothing to earn such a
response.

“Please, Brienne. Let me explain. I’ll leave after if you like.”

As much as she her head screamed to leave Jaime out in the hallway, Brienne’s heart couldn’t
allow it. For reasons she couldn’t begin to understand, Brienne stood up and walked towards the
door. She took pause and placed her forehead against the door.

Just hear him out. You owe him that much for his efforts with Jon; even if wasted on her.

Opening the door, Brienne saw Jaime leaning against the doorframe. Before she could say a word,
he walked in with a solemn expression on his face. Something seemed familiar about it, but she
stuffed the thought down and closed the door behind him.

When Jaime turned to face her, Brienne averted her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Brienne. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I was afraid. When we first met, you hated
me because of my reputation. We’ve known each other for years and I thought…”

As Jaime paused, Brienne glanced at him. His face looked pained as he struggled to put into words
whatever was running through his head.

“You of course don’t remember it all, but you saw me as something other than the Kingslayer
before you died. You were the only one who did. The only person who thought I was a good man.
When you said you didn’t remember me, I was afraid you would hate me if I was honest. I didn’t
want to be the Kingslayer to you again. I didn’t lie to you about anything else. Just my name.”

Brienne could sense Jaime’s sincerity. His reasoning was sound, but she still hated being lied to. It
was frightening not knowing anyone around her. Only her father was a familiar face, but Westeros
was greatly changed. She felt changed, but she didn’t know why or how.

“All I asked from you was honesty. I don’t need false words right now. I just want to know what
I’ve forgotten, and you deprived me of that.”

Jaime’s features twisted at the words. She didn’t mean to keep belaboring the point, but it was
difficult to convey how lost she felt.

“Of course. You have the right of it. I swear that I’ll never lie to you again, no matter how hard the
truth is. Please. Just give me another chance. A truce of sorts.”

“You need trust to have a truce.”

“I trust you.”

The words startled Brienne. As had happened in the armory earlier, Brienne sensed a familiarity to
the words.

We’ve had this conversation before. Where did we have this conversation before?

Rapid footsteps cut through Brienne’s thoughts as a pair of strong arms wrapped around her.
“Please, Brienne. No more lies. I swear it.”

Brienne let herself sink into his embrace. She didn’t know why, but it felt right. It felt like home.
Then she felt his false hand press cool against her back and she remembered. Suddenly it all made
sense.

Gods, what a fool. He lost Cersei. His love. The woman he lost his hand for.

Pushing back from Jaime, Brienne rubbed her neck and swayed nervously. She was never one with
words and social graces for such things. “I’m very sorry about Cersei.”

“What? Cersei?”

Glancing at Jaime, Brienne shrugged. “You said you lost your hand for the love of your life. I
didn’t know of course that you were Jaime Lannister. I know of the rumors of course. Everyone
did. There was a war because of it after all. You abandoned her, your love, to fight for the living.
She died during the siege you said?”

Jaime’s jaw flapped as if he was in a stupor. “Yes and no. Yes, I abandoned Queen Cersei to fight
for the living, and yes, she died in the siege after we defeated the dead. She wasn’t the woman I
lost my hand for. She wasn’t the woman I love.”

Confusion filled Brienne’s mind. Everything she knew of the war was based on the twins
forbidden love that spawned false kings.

“I apologize. I just assumed… I shouldn’t have.”

An awkward silence fell over them as Jaime played with the edge of his jerkin at his false hand.
“It’s fine. You aren’t wrong. I thought I loved her. It was wrong and the entire relationship was
unhealthy. It wasn’t until I met the woman I love, that I began to realize how twisted my
relationship with Cersei had been. I don’t know why I lingered at Cersei’s side as long as I did.
Perhaps a sense of duty. She was still my sister after all. We had an unhealthy reliance on one
another. I suppose I just didn’t know how to leave.”

Something gnawed at Brienne. The man before her was nothing like she would have expected the
Kingslayer to be. Rumors of his arrogance and dishonor were as renowned as his skill with a
sword.

“If I ask you a question you don’t like, will you still be honest with me?”

Jaime’s eyes widened as he nodded eagerly in agreement. “Of course. No lies.”

“Why did you kill Aerys?”

 Vows and Oaths
Chapter Summary

Jaime tells the truth of Aerys and Brienne is reunited with Pod.

Jaime

Why?

Jaime stammered slightly and tried to shake the shock from his mind. As he pushed away the
surprise at her question, a smile spread across his face.

“No one has ever asked me that before.”

Brienne’s brows knitted together in response. A slight ‘oh’ formed at her lips. “Not even your
family?”

Jaime snorted and shook his head. “Definitely not my family. They’ve always been rather
underwhelmed by me.”

Scratching his head, Jaime looked around the room. “Can we sit?”

There didn’t appear to be chairs in the room. In truth, most of the rooms lacked a good deal of
furniture. While the guest wing was largely untouched and currently housing everyone, the family
wing was in disarray.

Sitting beside Brienne on the edge of the bed, Jaime had to resist the urge to grab her hand. He took
a steadying breath and told Brienne the truth of it.

“I was the only Kingsguard with Aerys. The others were at the Trident with Prince Rheagar, or in
Dorne for reasons no one knew at the time. I’ve come to learn that the Kingsguard in Dorne were
there to guard Lyanna Stark, who was birthing Jon or rather, Aegon. My father and Aerys had a
falling out before all that. Do you know of that?”

Brienne shook her head in refute. With a nod, Jaime continued.

“My father had been Hand, but as Aerys grew madder, my father grew more distrustful of the king.
Then Aerys named me to his Kingsguard and my father was furious. I was the eldest son and heir,
so my father thought it a slight; particularly given his only other son was Tyrion.”

Jaime huffed a laugh. “Tyrion would make a far better lord than me. He was always much more
political like my father. I just wanted to be a knight. Cersei had convinced me to join the
Kingsguard so that we could remain… close.”

As shame washed over Jaime, he glanced at Brienne to ensure that she understood the meaning.
When she nodded in understanding, he continued.

“Well I learned quickly that my appointment was less meant as an honor, and more intended as a
political hostage of sorts. Aerys knew that so long as he had me under this thumb, the West would
not rebel. For much of the war, my father stayed out of it. Aerys never let me leave and I heard
rumors. Whispers throughout the Keep. Tales of pyromancers working around the clock to set out
wildfire throughout the city tunnels.”

Jaime again glanced at Brienne. Her brows were knitted in concentration as she took it all in.

“Aerys was already mad by that point. He used to burn people alive in the throne room for
pleasure. For the longest time, I couldn’t enter that bloody room without smelling it. Burning bodes
consumed by green flames. The screams were awful.”

Shaking his head to rid the memory of it all, Jaime took a deep breath and continued. “When my
father realized that Robert was prevailing, he acted as he always did. He allied himself with the
winning side.”

Jaime’s face contorted in disgust. A bitterness rose in him. Everyone assumed that Jaime broke his
oaths for his father, who conveniently appeared at the end of the war to aid Robert’s cause.

“My father showed up at the gates and I begged Aerys to surrender. It was to be a sack; of that I
was certain. He refused. Instead, he called for the Pyromancer. He gave the orders to burn them all.
To set the city ablaze with wildfire. It was all he could say after that. In his madness, he just sat
there yelling ‘Burn them all. Burn them all.’ I killed the pyromancer first. Then I killed Aerys.
Shoved my sword through his back.”

The memory of that day consumed Jaime as his hand shook slightly. He pinched the bridge of his
nose as he willed it away. Every part of him wished to go away inside at the memory of it, but he
needed to stay. He wanted to stay with Brienne.

"Then Ned Stark came into the throne room and saw the king’s blood on my blade and cloak. He
judged me guilty then and there. He wasn’t wrong, I suppose. I would do it again though.”

Brienne’s jaw was slack at his side. Her facial expression appeared so much like it did that day in
the bath at Harrenhal. All Jaime wanted to do was hold her, but he looked away and reminded
himself that he was still just the Kingslayer to her.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

With a resigned sigh, Jaime looked to his hands; one flesh and one gold. “It wouldn’t have
mattered. They judged me for the act, not the reason. I would rather that than the alternative.”

Brienne’s confusion only deepened. “The alternative should have been someone asking you why
and you being honored for it. I would have asked you. I’ve always wanted to be a knight. To
protect those who can’t protect themselves. I read about the deeds of great knights in my father’s
library when I could sneak away from my Septa. I’ve never read a deed so great as that. I’m sorry
they’ve judged you falsely. That I judged you falsely.”

The sincerity in Brienne’s voice surprised Jaime. She was always genuine, but she had never
shared her thoughts on his telling of the tale when they were in the baths at Harrenhal.

Mayhap if I hadn’t fainted, she might have. Things were so different then. We were enemies at that
point.

“Thank you. For asking why that is.”

Brienne considered the words and appraised him. “I didn’t ask you then?”
“In fairness, things were quite different between us. We were enemies of sorts. Well… you still
thought me your enemy. I think I was already beginning to view you quite differently.”

My cock certainly was. Thank the gods that rectified itself before I fainted.

The words hung heavy between them. Jaime could see the question forming before Brienne spoke
again. “What do you mean? Why were we enemies?”

Jaime bit back a laugh at the question. “I was your captive. Lady Stark sent me under your charge
to King’s Landing. It was to be a prisoner exchange; me for her daughters. I wasn’t the best
captive. A bit of an idiot.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide at the words. “Oh. Why me? That seems an awful decision. Why not
send you with the Northern army?”

“It’s probably fair to say that I was much safer with you than their entire army. I couldn’t be
happier with her decision. It brought you to me.” Jaime took pause and glanced at Brienne.

A slight unease set into her features as he stared at her. Distantly, Jaime imagined he must have
looked like a pining fool, but he could hardly help himself. All he could think of was kissing her.

Brienne stammered and looked away. She began to fidget nervously with the hem of her tunic.

“So, it worked then? I didn’t fail her?”

Before Jaime could answer, a loud knock came at the door. Jaime felt his spirits fall as Brienne
stood to answer it. As the door opened, Jaime groaned inwardly at the sight of Selwyn.
Surprisingly, Pod was with him.

Without awaiting her response, Selwyn moved into the room and glared at Jaime. Pod’s expression
mirrored the larger man and Jaime could only imagine what was to come next.

“Father. What is it?”

“Well I came to see how you are. I was quite worried about you after that scene in the gardens.”
Selwyn glared at Jaime as he spoke.

Swallowing thickly, Jaime looked to the floor. He was petrified of Selwyn’s intentions for visiting.
There was so much that Jaime had yet to confess to Brienne, and he feared what truths Selwyn
would expose next.

“I thought I might steal your friend here for a bit. Don’t worry, you won’t be alone. This young
man has been quite worried about you and will keep you company until I return.”

Jaime looked up and saw Pod’s expression soften as he looked to Brienne. “Ser Brienne. I don’t
imagine you remember me?”

The sorrow in Pod’s voice was obvious. Jaime felt for the young man; even if he was the subject of
Pod’s ire.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t. Did we fight together?”

Pod’s face fell at the words, but he forced a smile and looked back at her. “My name is Pod.
Podrick Payne. I am your squire, but… you mean much more to me than that.”

Jaime could feel Selwyn’s eyes on him. Walking to Brienne’s side, Jaime spoke quietly.
“Can I see you again or would you rather I stay away?”

With a small nod, Brienne met his eyes and smiled. “I’ll see you again.”

Jaime pressed his lips together and smiled; his eyes crinkling with glee. As Jaime stepped into the
hallway, he immediately felt Selwyn’s burly hand at the back of his neck, pushing him forward.

“We are going to have some words, you and I.”

They walked a few doors down and turned into on open room on the left. Jaime gathered it was the
room that Selwyn had been assigned. Similar to Brienne’s room, the furniture was sparse with
naught but a bed and small table.

Offering Jaime a seat on the bed, Selwyn stood with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed. “While
you were in Volantis, he told me of it all. The boy. The strange one.”

No additional description was necessary. Jaime knew that Selwyn meant Bran. The anger in
Selwyn’s tone was evident as he glared at Jaime.

“He told me of Aerys, House Bolton, the dead, and everything after. You may be a high-quality
knight, but where it concerns women, you are dishonorable. You lay with your own sister and put
babes on her. You treat my daughter like a brothel worker, only to abandon her with cruel words.
My daughter deserves better than someone the likes of you. The title she earned is now called into
question because of your behavior. They call her Kingslayer’s Whore because of you. I gather that
you took her maidenhead without a second thought. Didn’t you?”

Jaime swallowed thickly and looked at the floor. “I regret dishonoring her. I should have wed her
first. I wanted to wed her, but I made a mistake.”

“A mistake that cost Brienne her life! For a moon turn you lay with her and didn't once think to
correct your mistake, did you? You got her with child! You’ve ruined any chance she could have at
happiness. It was already difficult enough to find her a match before. Now I have a daughter known
as the Kingslayer’s Whore. How is she to take a proper husband now?”

“Lord Selwyn, please. Let me prove myself. I love your daughter more than anything. I would do
anything for her. I wish to marry her.”

The older lord appraised him as a heavy silence fell over the room.

“You would do anything for her?”

Nodding emphatically, Jaime met Selwyn’s eyes. “Yes. Anything.”

“Good. Then stay away from her. Podrick and I are taking her home to Tarth. The maester says
that being around people and settings she is familiar with may help her. It’s the only chance she has
to find happiness with someone who would treat her honorably.”

Brienne

The young man before her was quite talkative. He provided all manner of detail regarding their
time together. It was exhausting listening to it all, but Brienne could tell that Pod was a kind soul.
The fondness in his eyes was quite unexpected.
“I’m sorry. Am I overwhelming you? I’m just so happy that you’re alive. It’s horrible what
happened to you. I’ll kill those men myself when they’re brought here.”

Brienne smiled appreciatively at the young man before her.

“To be honest, everything is overwhelming. I feel terribly that I can’t remember you. Hopefully in
time. When I was speaking with Ser Jaime, I felt like I was remembering things.”

At her words, Pod sighed and looked away. “I’m happy to hear it, though I’m less than thrilled he
is bothering you.”

“He isn’t bothering me. He has been very kind and helpful in it all. I don’t know how to describe it,
but I just feel comfortable with him. I trust him.”

“Don’t!”

Pod’s outburst caught her by surprise. A slight awkwardness settled over them as Brienne clamped
her mouth shut. With a huff, Pod spoke once more.

“I apologize. I didn't mean to yell. I’m just… he hurt you when he left to go south. I know his
intentions were in the right place, but if it weren’t for his actions, you wouldn’t have died.”

“What do you mean?”

Pod shook his head and seemed to think better of whatever was forming at his lips. “It’s just that he
should have been honest with you. He let you think that he was returning to his sister’s side to be
with her. He made you believe it so that you wouldn’t follow him. It hurt you though; the things he
said.”

Brienne struggled to see why she would be that hurt by it. She certainly wouldn’t appreciate the
lies, but if his heart was in the right place, she failed to see how it was his fault.

Strange. It isn’t as though we were in a relationship and he pretended to return to his sister. Gods.
How absurd. Someone like him with someone like me.

Pod seemed eager to change the subject. He stood from his spot on the bed beside her and
unbuckled the sword at his hip.

“I almost forgot! This is your sword, my lady. I mean… Ser Brienne. You gave it to me when you
left for the south. Before you…”

The young man paused and looked away with a grimace. He forced a small as he spoke once more;
his hand extending the sword towards her.

“It’s yours.”

As Brienne grabbed the hilt of the sword and Pod spoke, a shock went through her. A pair of green
eyes pushed to the forefront of her mind. Then for the first time, she remembered something.

“Oathkeeper. I was meant to find Lady Sansa. Gods! Is she alright, Pod?”

Pod’s eyes went wide at the question. Something dangerous flashed across his face and it was the
first time that Brienne saw the young man look anything but kind.

“I am angry at Ser Jaime, but for what Lady Sansa did to you… there is no forgiveness.”
Brienne reeled back as if slapped.

No. Clearly, he is confused. I was sworn to Lady Catelyn. Jaime said that I was to oversee a
prisoner exchange. Jon said that I safely returned Sansa to him at the Wall.

Without another word, Brienne moved into the hallway. Everything felt wrong. While she was
pleased to remember something on her own, she felt a deep urge to find Sansa and keep her safe.

“I have to find her. I need to keep her safe.”

Pod ran into the hallway after Brienne. “No! You don’t understand. She doesn’t need to be found.
She’s here.”

“She’s here!? I need to see her. I swore an oath to her mother. To Lady Catelyn. I promised Ser
Jaime.”

At the commotion, Selwyn emerged from his room. “By the gods. What is going on? Brienne. Are
you alright?”

Pod desperately called out to Selwyn. “My lord. I gave Ser Brienne the sword back and she
remembered about her oath to Lady Stark. She thinks she needs to find Lady Sansa.”

At the information, Brienne heard Selwyn groan in exhaustion. He rushed to her side and grabbed
her arm. “Brienne. No. There will be none of that now.”

Brienne couldn’t be bothered. She needed to find Jon and ask after Lady Sansa’s health. Her father
tugged at her arm, but Brienne shook him off. The resolve she felt to find Sansa was
overwhelming.

It felt like true purpose for the first time in days. Selwyn and Pod begged at her back, but Brienne
needed to find Sansa.

Pod said she was here. I need to know she is well. I need to honor the oath to Lady Catelyn and
offer my sword before considering any offer from King Jon.

Turning towards the great hall, Brienne saw Jaime, Jon, and Arya outside speaking. At her
approach, Jaime’s eyes went wide. His mouth hung open in question as he observed the men
following Brienne and trying to calm her.

“Brienne? What’s wrong?”

Jaime stepped forward towards them; his eyes darting between the men at Brienne’s back.

“Oathkeeper. You gave me this sword, didn’t you? To find and protect Lady Sansa. To keep the
oath to Lady Catelyn.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide before traveling down to the sword in her hand.

“Did Pod tell you that?”

Shaking her head in refute, Brienne continued staring at Jaime. “No. I remembered it. Pod returned
the sword and something he said… it felt familiar. I remembered it.”

Glancing at Pod, Jaime spoke questioningly. “What did you say.”

With a shrug, Pod spoke uncertainly at Brienne’s side. “All I said was, ‘Its yours’. Then she
charged out from the room.”

“It’s true then? Am I remembering it correctly?” Brienne’s eyes were as desperate as her tone.

Gods. Don’t let me be going crazy. Please let this memory be real.

Jaime smiled as his eyes traveled from the sword in her hand to her eyes. “It will always be yours.”

It was as though a piece of a puzzle moved into place, and for the first time since she awoke,
Brienne felt clarity. A memory stolen by death was restored and she smiled.

“I need to defend her. I need to know that she is alright. Pod says she is here.”
 Lannister and Stark
Chapter Summary

Jaime tells Brienne why she must not seek out Sansa. Brienne struggles with the
suggestion.

Jaime

Any happiness that Jaime felt at Brienne regaining a memory was quickly clouded by her
insistence to see Sansa. It was evident that Selwyn and Pod had been unable to calm her or get a
word in to explain what happened.

Brienne was frantic and desperate. Trying to put himself into Brienne’s position, Jaime could
understand why. If all that she recalled from the last several years was the need to keep Sansa safe,
it made sense that Brienne would care little for other information. She was stubborn. It was one of
the many things that Jaime loved about her.

Jon and Arya had joined in the effort to refute Brienne’s request, but Jaime knew what to do. He
had seen her in such a state before at Winterfell. More than once during the moon turn they were
together, Brienne would awake from a nightmare.

He understood all too well. Jaime’s dreams were often visited by Aerys, Locke, and, more recently,
the dead. In his dreams involving the dead, Jaime saw them overrun Brienne, but he couldn’t get to
her in time.

Those nights were the worst. He awoke in a sweat, desperately clawing for Brienne. It took
Brienne’s patient soothing to steady his breathing and chase away the nightmare.

Brienne had her share of torturous dreams too. She would wake in a panic, convinced that she
needed to search the castle for wights. Insistent she needed to check on the Stark children and
ensure there was no threat. Worrying over Jaime and assessing him for injury.

Jaime didn’t know what made him do it the first time, but he grabbed her hand and placed it
against his chest, just over his heart. He rubbed soothing circles on the back of her hand with his
thumb while pulled her close with his maimed arm.

In a similar motion to those dark nights up north, Jaime looped his right arm around Brienne’s
waist and pulled her close. With his left hand, Jaime grabbed Brienne’s wrist and placed her hand
over his chest while staring into her eyes. Rubbing soothing circles onto the back of her hand,
Jaime spoke calmly.

“Just breathe, Brienne. Calm down. Sansa is fine. Let us explain.”

As Brienne relaxed in his arms, Jaime smiled at her. “You remembered the sword, Brienne. That’s
incredible. Lets go to the yards. I’ll tell you all about Sansa. I promise you, she is well. Yes?”

Nodding slowly, Brienne swallowed as the panic left her eyes. “Alright. Yes.”

The shocked looks on the faces of those around them did not escape Jaime; particularly Lord
Selwyn. Jaime guided Brienne outside towards the yards. After a moment’s hesitation, Selwyn
walked quickly behind them.

“Where are you taking her? I thought I told you…”

Jaime cut Selwyn off before he could finish. Glancing back at the older lord, Jaime spoke with the
utmost sincerity. “To do what is best for her. And how were you faring back there?”

Jaime’s brow raised in challenge. A complaint formed at Selwyn’s lips, but he said nothing of it.
Sensing Selwyn’s unease, Jaime spoke once more.

“I’m taking her to the yards. When we talk, I have a feeling she’s going to want to knock me into
the dirt.”

With his hand at Brienne’s lower back, Jaime could feel her stiffen at the words. “Why would I do
that?”

A knowing smirk spread across Jaime’s face. The affection in his eyes was impossible to hide.
“You’re quite fond of knocking me around when you’re frustrated. Sansa is fine, but what you hear
might frustrate you.”

As they neared the yards, Jaime pulled Brienne towards the rock wall to sit down. The hour was
growing late, and Jaime worried at overwhelming her with even more information before the day
was out. It was likely Pod had already talked her ear off earlier.

Selwyn stood feet from them, looking on in worry at Brienne. The conversation with Selwyn
earlier did not go well, and Jaime was petrified of watching Brienne sail away to Tarth.

Jaime sat beside Brienne and covertly placed his hand on the small of her back. He imagined that if
Selwyn saw any physical affection or touch shared between them, Jaime would find himself
handless.

“You asked earlier, but I didn’t get a chance to answer you. You did not fail Lady Catelyn. Despite
my best efforts to make our journey difficult, you returned me to King’s Landing. Unfortunately,
Lady Catelyn, her eldest son, and his bannermen were killed at the Twins. As I mentioned in
Volantis, it was disgusting what happened. They were killed at Edmure Tully’s wedding to one of
Walder Frey’s daughters.”

Brienne grimaced at the information and Jaime took a deep breath before continuing.

“When we arrived at King’s Landing, Arya Stark had gone missing and Sansa Stark was wed to
my brother. It was purely for political reasons. Sansa was as much a prisoner in King’s Landing, as
I was in Aerys’ Kingsguard. During Joffrey’s wedding when everyone was distracted by the king’s
death, Sansa fled the city. I gave you that sword to find her and return her home. I sent Pod with
you. At the time, Pod was Tyrion’s squire. Given Tyrion’s implication in Joffrey’s murder, Pod
wasn’t safe.”

Jaime watched as Brienne nodded slowly, taking in the information. He hadn’t yet hit the heart of
the matter, but it already felt overwhelming, even for him.

“You found Sansa despite the odds. You saved her from House Bolton, and you know what
happened after. Were it not for you, Sansa wouldn’t be alive today. The Starks wouldn’t have
reclaimed Winterfell, and there would have been much greater consequences beyond that. Do you
understand?”
Brienne’s brows furrowed, but she nodded slowly. Taking that as a sign to continue, Jaime
continued.

“When the North and Vale allied with Daenerys, they tried to treat with Cersei as we told you.
Sansa sent you to King’s Landing to represent her. She refused to return to the city while my sister
lived. Cersei lied to everyone. She agreed to send aid, but it was for show. Instead, she hired the
Golden Company to destroy whichever army won.”

At the words, Brienne gasped. Even though Jaime honored his pledge to fight for the living, he felt
guilt for Cersei’s behavior. They were twins, and there was a degree of responsibility that Jaime
felt for Cersei’s actions.

“I tried to talk her into honoring the pledge, but she refused.” Jaime huffed a bitter laugh and
looked to the sky. “She threatened to have me killed, but I left her side. I traveled north alone to
honor the pledge. When I got there, Daenerys, Sansa, and Jon held a trial to determine my fate.”

“Your fate!? You honored your pledge!” Brienne was aghast at his side. The sight of her righteous
indignation drew a huff of laughter from Jaime.

“Daenerys seemed to harbor some ill will towards me for having run her father through with my
sword. House Stark, as you can imagine, was never much a fan of me or my House; particularly
Sansa. She hates all things Lannister.”

Jaime paused as he recalled the scene in the great hall at Winterfell. Tears stung the back of his
eyes at the memory of Brienne standing before him and vouching for him. Were it not for Brienne,
they would have taken his head on the spot.

“They were very likely going to kill me, but you stood before me. You vouched for me when the
whole of the North wanted to see my head used as a projectile against the dead. I don’t think that I
got to properly thank you for that.”

Glancing at Brienne, he saw her eyes widen slightly. “Of course I would vouch for you. You kept
your oath to Lady Catelyn. You sacrificed your own name for the city. You’re a good man. An
honorable man.”

Jaime grimaced slightly; his eyes darting to Selwyn who stood unimpressed a few feet away.
Shaking his head, Jaime sighed.

“I’ve done horrible things, Brienne. They were within their right to demand my head.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed inquisitively. “Such as?”

Gods. I didn’t want to tell her like this.

“I… I pushed Bran Stark from a window and crippled him.”

The shock on Brienne’s face was painful to see. Her hand came to her mouth as she stared at him.
“Why would you do that? Is that why Sansa hates you?”

Shame consumed Jaime as he shook his head in denial. “I don’t believe Bran ever told his kin. I
pushed him because he saw me and Cersei together at Winterfell when King Robert was still alive.
I hated myself for it; even in the moment. I just didn’t know another way to ensure my sister and
the children kept their lives. It was wrong.”

When Brienne didn’t comment, Jaime continued.

“I think Sansa hates me because of what I was to Cersei and all that my House did to hers. It seems
that when you stood up for me, Sansa decided you were her enemy too, though she didn’t say so
out loud. When I eventually left to go south, she confronted you and exiled you. She hurt you.
Badly. Her own kin had her arrested and placed in the cells for what she did to you.”

Brienne stood abruptly and began to pace before him. From the corner of his eye, Jaime could see
Selwyn move to comfort her, but he held back when Brienne began to speak.

“I understand why she is upset. Surely it was all a misunderstanding. If I was her sworn sword, I
must have been loyal to her. Mayhap I just need to speak with her. It seems rather extreme to place
her in the cells for merely exiling me. She was well within her right.”

“No! Brienne, you don’t understand. She exiled you to Essos and told the stablemaster to refuse
you a horse. It’s why you’re so weak. You spent two moons walking towards White Harbor. No
one gave you proper supplies or coin to ensure your safe arrival there. She spoke cruelly to you.
She… she hurt you.”

Jaime closed his eyes to steady his rage. His hand shook at the memory of all that Bran had showed
him.

Brienne stopped pacing; her eyes moving to Jaime. “I’ll have that spar now.”

Brienne

Brienne moved quietly through the darkened corridors leading towards the cells. Hours had passed
since she sparred Jaime and took supper with her father. The day had been exhausting and while
Brienne’s body longed for little more than sleep, her mind would not let her take rest.

As she approached the cells, Brienne offered a small smile at the guards. “I’m here to see Lady
Sansa.”

The men glanced at one another uneasily. One of the men, a short brunette with a missing tooth
and brown eyes, looked at her uneasily. “We was told by Ser Bronn not to let anyone in.”

“Yes, well I’ll only be a bit. I understand that I’m the reason for the lady’s imprisonment. I only
mean to check on her and ensure she is being well-fed. I’ll be back out momentarily. You have my
word.”

The second guard shrugged. “Ser Brienne doesn’t lie. I trust her. She commanded me against the
dead.”

I was his commander? Gods, I feel terrible for not remembering him.

With a warm smile, Brienne nodded as the men let her into the cells. “She’s down on the right in
the open cell. They’ve got her chained to the wall.”

Gods. How awful. I need to fix this.

“Thank you both. I appreciate it.”

Entering the cells, Brienne grabbed a torch off the wall. She moved quickly towards the area
described and it was not long before she saw a small body curled on the floor. Red hair spilled out
onto the ground as Sansa’s arm propped up her head.
“My lady?”

At Brienne’s voice, the woman sat upright and squinted into the darkness. Sansa brought up an arm
as her eyes adjusted to the light from the torch.

“Brienne?”

A wave of relief washed over Brienne. With a smile stretching across her face, Brienne moved
quickly to Sansa’s side.

“My lady. Are you alright? I’m so sorry for all of this.”

At Brienne’s approach, Sansa recoiled as if struck.

“You’re supposed to be dead!”

The tone in Sansa’s voice surprised Brienne. She seemed more irritated than relieved.

“I was, my lady. King Jon and Ser Jaime brought me to a red priestess. Quite a lot of trouble really.
Here, I’ve brought you some food.”

Reaching into her pocket, Brienne produced the portion of her meal that she had secretly saved for
Sansa. Her own stomach growled at the sight of it. Brienne had wished to eat more, but she feared
that Sansa was not being nourished properly in the cells.

Grabbing the food from Brienne’s hand, Sansa threw it into the darkness.

“You’ll not poison me! I’m no fool.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed slightly as shock washed over her. “My lady, I would never poison you.
I was worried that they are not feeding you adequately here.”

“Please. Why would you care?”

The young woman leaned back against the cell wall. Brienne appraised the space. A horrid smell
wafted through the area, and mice could be heard scurrying about in the darkness.

“I’m your sworn sword. It is my duty to protect you.”

A bitter laugh escaped Sansa’s lips. “Please. Spare me. You’re the reason that I’m stuck in here.”

“Yes, I know. I’m terribly sorry for it. I’m going to ask King Jon to release you. Ser Jaime told me
of it. I understand your reason for distrusting me, but I would never betray you. I swear that I am
loyal to you and no other.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and huffed.

“Ser Jaime told you of it? Gods. How many lifetimes do you intend to play the fool? Let me guess,
now that his sister is dead, he means to make you his whore again?”

Brienne flinched at the words. Her eyes went wide. “My lady, no! Ser Jaime would never do that,
and he would have very little desire to lay with someone such as me. He is my friend.”

Sansa’s eyes narrowed in response. Her head tilted slightly as she seemed to consider Brienne.

“Your friend? What are you… Brienne… what is Ser Jaime to you?”
“My friend, my lady. That is all. He kept his oath to your mother and sent me to find you. He’s a
good man. He only meant to offer aid. Mayhap if you knew him better. He isn’t like his sister.
Admittedly, I don’t much remember him, but he has treated me honorably since they brought me
back. I’m told by others that his deeds were well-intended if not poorly executed.”

The hint of a smile tugged at Sansa’s lips. In Brienne’s worry for the young woman, she hadn’t
noticed it. “You don’t remember anything?”

“No, my lady. The only thing I recall is being sent to find you. I’ll see you home safely.”

Sansa leaned forward and her eyes shone with fear.

“Listen to me, Brienne. He did this once before. He tried to turn us on one another. You were
hopelessly in love with him, but he rejected you at Winterfell. He wanted to marry me, but I didn’t
want to hurt you, so I refused him. He tried to kill me for it, but my guards stopped him. Then he
fled south to return to his sister. You mustn’t tell him this or I fear he’ll try to kill me again. This
time, they won’t stop him. He has poisoned my own family against me. I’ve done no wrong,
Brienne. Please! Help me! You have to get me out. I fear the only way is to be rid of him.”

Brienne felt her heart sink at the words.

I loved him? Is that why I find such comfort in him? Am I truly so pathetic to think someone such as
him could have loved me? Gods. He tried to harm Sansa? It seems so out of character... though
how would I truly know?

Taking a deep breath, Brienne looked at Sansa and nodded. “I’ll find a way to get you out of here
safely, my lady. I’m so sorry for all of this.”

Sansa nodded and leaned back as Brienne stood to leave. The walk back to her room felt more like
a walk across the entirety of Westeros. Her feet dragged as Brienne reprimanded herself for not
remembering it all. She couldn’t shake the feeling though that something was off, however.

He couldn’t reject me if I never admitted to my love. Why would I confess my love for him? I know
it could never be returned. I never confessed my love for Renly for the same reason. That would be
mortifying. A fate worse than death. Why would I do so for Ser Jaime?

Unable to sleep, Brienne sought out Jaime.

 Cherished and Unlovable
Chapter Summary

Brienne goes to speak with Jaime about what happened in Winterfell.

Chapter Notes

Jaime's section has some NSFW

Brienne

The hour was late, but Brienne couldn’t rest until she heard the truth of Winterfell from Jaime.
Earlier that evening, Jaime had informed Brienne which room he was assigned in the event she
needed him for anything.

Not long after she had knocked, the door to Jaime’s room creaked open. Tired eyes met hers, as
Jaime stood shirtless and bathed in firelight.

His breeches hung loosely at his hips and his hair stuck out slightly at the sides. His frame was
muscular and his skin golden. Brienne averted her eyes and stammered an apology.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t intend to wake you. I can come back in the…”

Before she could finish, Jaime was pulling her into the room. He shut the door behind her and ran a
hand through his messy hair.

“You didn’t wake me. It’s fine.”

Brienne raised an unimpressed brow at the lie. With a slight grimace, Jaime shrugged.

“Sorry. I said no lies. You can come anytime you need. I don’t mind.”

Brienne’s eyes darted around the room. The warmth of the fireplace added more color to her
cheeks which had already pinked when her eyes drank in Jaime’s body. She waited for him to dress
more appropriately, but instead he stood close at her side and looked to her expectantly.

“I’m very sorry, but I couldn’t sleep. I needed to ask you something. Please, be honest with me. It
won’t hurt my feelings.”

Jaime nodded in wordless agreement as Brienne began to fidget.

“When you came to Winterfell, did I…” Brienne paused and cleared her throat. She could feel her
blush deepening as Jaime stared at her. His scent was overwhelming and his proximity
intoxicating. It was strange to have her body react so strongly to him.

“…did I do or say something that suggested I wanted something more than friendship from you?”
Jaime’s brows furrowed at the words before they widened in shock. “No. Why? Did you remember
something?”

It felt as though a weight was lifted from Brienne’s chest. The thought of having confessed her
love to someone as untouchable as Jaime Lannister seemed both mortifying and unimaginable.

“No. Not at all. Sorry for having disturbed you, Ser Jaime. I’ll let you get back to sleep.” A small
smile tugged at Brienne’s lips, but when she glanced at Jaime, she was surprised to see his face
fall.

Did he lie again? Is he only trying to spare my pride?

“Why did you think that, Brienne?”

Afraid to reveal she had visited Sansa, Brienne told Jaime what Sansa said without implicating her.
Jaime’s eyes went wide, and he began to pace wildly.

“Who would tell you such a thing!? That is a terrible lie, Brienne. I have as much desire to marry
Sansa as I have to see Aerys resurrected. In truth, I would love to kill Sansa, but only because of
what she has done to you. I never laid a hand on her while at Winterfell.”

Brienne startled at Jaime’s vehemence. She shook her head and stammered. “It’s nothing… I just
heard it in passing.”

Jaime’s tone was vexed when he spoke once more. “Who said it, Brienne? That doesn’t make any
sense. Please. I need to know who is lying to you. You could be in danger again.”

Brienne considered his words, but she feared betraying Sansa. If her instinct was wrong and Jaime
was again lying to her, it could cost Sansa her life. It was too much to handle and Brienne felt that
no matter what she did, she was failing someone.

The inability to remember was frustrating and Brienne began to panic slightly. Stepping backwards
towards the door, Brienne mumbled an apology before Jaime grabbed her wrist.

“Brienne, please. I need to know who said that. I can’t lose you again.”

There was a raw pain in his eyes that struck Brienne. She considered why he would go through the
trouble of seeing her resurrected if Sansa’s story was true.

If I was dead, wouldn’t that clear the path to Sansa? Not that I would have stood in their way
regardless. I would have wanted them to be happy, no matter how much it hurt.

“I’m sorry. I’m just very confused. Everyone keeps telling me different things. Mayhap it is best
that I leave. My presence only seems to cause more problems.”

Brienne’s mind ran wild. The inability to remember such a significant portion of her life was
wearing on Brienne. As the weight of the day began to press on her, Brienne’s heart raced. It felt as
though the walls were closing in.

Why can’t I remember? What is wrong with me?

Pushing the palm of her hand against her forehead, Brienne tried to steady herself. The room began
to spin as the color drained from her face.

Warm arms guided Brienne to the bed and lowered her. Jaime pushed her shoulders back gently
and Brienne felt the bed depress at her side. Jaime’s body pressed close at her hip as he stared
down at her face.

“I don’t mean to upset you. Just lay down and take a deep breath. It’s been a long day. You look
faint.”

Brienne tried to sit upright, but Jaime stopped her. “Just wait a moment. Always so stubborn. Can I
get you water?”

Shaking her head in refute, Jaime’s hand ran through her hair. His proximity was not helping
Brienne’s plight. It was all so confusing. His touch both soothed and frightened her. It felt easier
when men’s repulsion was apparent. Kind touch felt more torturous. A reminder of what she could
never have.

Did I mistake his kindness as something more at Winterfell? Why would Sansa accuse me of being
hopelessly in love with him? How foolish had I behaved?

Before Brienne could try to get up again, Jaime sighed and looked away.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable, but please tell the king.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed as she considered the words. While she had little reason to trust Jaime
more than anyone else, Brienne couldn’t help but believe him sincere. With a slight nod of her
head, Brienne agreed.

I suppose the guards will have alerted King Jon anyway.

At the thought, Brienne reprimanded herself for not having been more careful in visiting Sansa.
She worried at how Jon might react to Sansa’s accusations. Glancing once more at Jaime, Brienne
took a leap of faith in trusting him.

“Please don’t tell anyone, but I visited Sansa. I’m afraid the guards will tell King Jon and I don’t
know what to say if he confronts me. I don’t want harm to befall Sansa.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the words. “She told you that lie, didn’t she?”

The guilt was writ across Brienne’s face as she met his eyes. “I had to see her.”

“She hurt you, Brienne! I didn’t lie to you. Please, in the morning will you speak with Bran? Even
Arya or Jon if you prefer. I don’t want you thinking that I’ve lied about what she did.”

While Brienne believed Jaime, it would be helpful to get different perspectives or insights.

“Yes. I’ll speak with them.”

Jaime smiled and lifted his left hand to her temple; his thumb rubbing soothingly back and forth.
The touch was relaxing, and Brienne felt her eyes grow heavy on account of the hour and stress of
the day. Without intending to, Brienne fell asleep with Jaime seated on the bed facing her.

Jaime

The flames in the fireplace had burned to only embers. After little sleep in two days, Jaime felt his
body slipping into unconsciousness. He squeezed into the bed beside Brienne and held her close.
With his body pressed against Brienne, the room felt warmer than it had with the fire burning
bright. Jaime tried desperately to stay awake. The only thing he feared more than losing Brienne
again, was seeing her branded the Kingslayer’s Whore again.

Jaime reconciled that he would rouse Brienne before first light and escort her back to her room.
First, he wanted her to rest. The amount of information everyone threw at her over the course of the
day was astounding.

Further, conflicting perspectives and chopped information were not aiding her mental health. Jaime
was beginning to worry for Brienne. When she nearly fainted, he panicked and wondered if she
should see Sam in the morning.

As Jaime faded in and out of consciousness, his hand dropped from Brienne’s head to her shoulder.
He began to drift between dream and reality. When a jolt of wakefulness gripped him, Jaime
rubbed at Brienne’s shoulder with his thumb. It was a desperate bid to offer her comfort, even if in
sleep, and to keep himself awake.

Again, Jaime nodded off; his hand dragged across to Brienne’s chest as he shifted closer. The pad
of his thumb traced over her breast and elicited a small moan from Brienne.

Even dazed, Jaime’s cock hardened at the familiar sound. On instinct, Jaime’s mouth moved to
Brienne’s jaw and placed a delicate kiss as he mumbled sleepily. “Brienne.”

Brienne shifted in sleep to face Jaime. Her hand reached out to grip his stump. It was something
she often did in slumber at Winterfell. An unconscious tenderness that Jaime missed. Jaime found
himself slipping back into visions of their bed at Winterfell.

In his semiconscious state, Jaime was covered in furs with the North’s wintery chill blowing
against the window. As if on memory alone, his hand traveled to Brienne’s face and cupped her
cheek. When his lips met hers, Brienne kissed him back as her grip on his stump tightened. She
mumbled absently.

“Jaime… the fire. Have to… keep the fire going… in the north.”

It had been their routine at Winterfell. Brienne would ramble about the fire needing tending while
Jaime tried to ignite a fire of a different sort. Everything was so familiar. Just another evening
huddled close in the dreary North.

Jaime’s hand trailed down Brienne’s side and up her shirt. He pawed at her breast while thumbing
across her nipple. As Brienne hissed slightly, her hand moved to his breeches. His cock was
already hard with want and begging for touch.

From a moon of laying together, Brienne’s experienced hand gripped Jaime’s cock just the way he
liked. His hand traveled from her breast and moved to the laces of her breeches. Lost in a dream of
their room at Winterfell, Jaime desperately shoved the offending material out of the way.

Pushing Brienne to her back, Jaime rolled on top of her; his cock at Brienne’s entrance as their lips
searched for each other in the dark. As Jaime pushed into her with a sigh and began moving slowly,
Brienne arched her back into him.

The familiar touch of Brienne’s hands urged Jaime on. Looping his right arm under her leg, he
pushed deeper until he hit that spot which always sent Brienne spiraling. Moving at a more
frenzied pace, Jaime felt his release building. Everything around him began to feel more real.

Brienne moaned his name as her hips tilted up and her hands pulled him impossibly closer. As her
walls began to tighten, Jaime felt his release rapidly approaching. Brienne tipped her chin up and
exposed the length of her neck.

All Jaime could see was Winterfell and Brienne. The scent in the air, the feel of her body in the
dark, and the sound of her voice. Jaime buried his face into the pale expanse of her neck, as
Brienne’s voice called out to him.

“Jaime.”

Gods she feels so good. I don’t want to leave. I won’t go back south. I want to stay.

His breath was warm and shallow against her skin, and Jaime spilled deep within Brienne as she
stilled under him. Nibbling at the flesh of her neck, Jaime’s eyes registered the bruising from the
noose. When Brienne’s voice next called out to him; the tone was different.

“Jaime?”

The panic in Brienne’s voice matched his own dawning realization. Jaime froze as Winterfell faded
away and his room at the Keep came into view. Fear gripped Jaime as he felt Brienne shaking
underneath him. Slowly pulling back his head, Jaime observed Brienne’s panicked eyes.

Oh fuck. What have I done?

Jaime glanced down to where their bodies were still joined. He could feel his cock softening from
release inside Brienne as he slowly pulled out. Jaime’s mouth gaped as he looked back into
Brienne’s eyes. Tears were forming as she tried to desperately scramble off the bed.

“Brienne. Oh gods. I’m so sorry. I… I was somewhere else. I swear it.”

“Yes, of course. You likely thought me someone else. I need to leave. Oh gods. What have I
done?”

With shaking hands, Brienne grabbed her clothing and covered herself. Jaime quickly pulled up his
smallclothes and breeches as he watched Brienne frantically attempt to lace her own. Stilling her
hands, Jaime desperately tried to meet her eyes.

“No! Brienne, please. I meant that I was somewhere else with you. I thought we were back at
Winterfell in our room. It was all so confusing… gods. I’m so sorry.”

The words seemed to startle Brienne more than what had just happened. A strange expression
flashed across her face before she shook her head. “No. No. It was a dream. Likely brought on by
Sansa’s lie. I’m a maid. I… was maid. Gods. I can’t believe that happened.”

Was she just with me at Winterfell too? Was she remembering?

Jaime’s face fell as he met her frightened eyes. Shaking his head slowly, Jaime tried to cup her
cheek, but Brienne flinched.

“Brienne. We were together at Winterfell. That’s why Sansa thought you betrayed her.”

Silent tears fell from Brienne’s face. “I’m not… we weren’t. I’m not wed. Oh gods. Were we
wed?”

Guilt and shame touched Jaime’s features as he reached for Brienne.

“I wanted to. I swear it, Brienne. Everything was so complicated. Gods, I’m so sorry. I never meant
for this to happen. Not like this.”

Brienne’s face fell as she tried once more to lace her breeches. Bitterness laced her tone as she
refused to meet his eyes. “Was it a bet then? A jape? Or was I just your whore to pass time with?”

“No! Brienne, please. Just look at me. You are not a whore.”

Again, Jaime reached out for Brienne, but she stepped back. Her cheeks were wet with tears as she
tried to move rapidly towards the door. Desperation drove Jaime forward to beat her there. With his
back pressed to the door and blocking Brienne’s path, Jaime felt the words tumble from his lips.

“I went to Winterfell because I love you. I returned south because I love you. I killed Cersei
because I love you. And I took you to Volantis because I love you still. I will never stop loving
you.”

The words hung heavy between them as Brienne’s eyes went wide. He watched as she swallowed a
forming reply and looked away. When she collected herself and spoke once more, her voice was
heavy with pain.

“I said no more lies. You promised.”

Pushing off the door, Jaime grabbed her face between his hand and stump. His eyes were desperate
as he spoke urgently.

“I would never lie about this! Ask anyone, please. I’m told that I was quite pathetic about it. It
wasn’t you who was hopelessly in love. It was me.”

Brienne’s face contorted in anguish. “You can’t love me. I’m not lovable. It’s the only thing that I
know for certain.”

“That’s not true, but it’s my fault you think that. I never told you at Winterfell how much I love
you. You died thinking yourself unlovable because of my failure; not your own. Please, Brienne.
You have to believe me.”

Shaking her head, Brienne removed his hand and wrist from her face.

“I can’t. You can’t try to convince me of what I already know as fact. You could no sooner
convince me that I’m short of stature or the sky is a shade other than blue.”

Jaime realized it then. Kinvara’s words came back to him.

“You may love her, and she may yet come to find her love for you once more. You are twin flames
after all. Even still, that love will never be enough when she can’t accept that she is lovable. When
she can’t love herself.”

Jaime felt his body sag as Brienne pushed passed him to the door. Before she could turn the handle,
Jaime put his flesh hand on the door and leaned his weight against it.

“I wouldn’t refute your tall stature or the color of the sky because those are facts. They do not
change based on opinion. But love is personal. It’s subjective. Because I failed you, you don’t see
how much I love you. That doesn’t mean it isn’t true. I’m sorry you found out like this, but I will
not stop loving you. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to believe me. I’ll never lay with or cloak
another.”

Brienne’s tears spilled faster down her cheeks as she refused to meet Jaime’s eyes.
“Please. Let me go.”

Removing his hand from the door, Jaime sighed and whispered as she left. “I can’t.”
 Near and Far
Chapter Summary

The fallout from the night before. Brienne prepares to leave and Jaime scrambles to
get her to stay.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Brienne

Brienne stood outside Pod’s door and knocked lightly. After fleeing Jaime’s room, Brienne spent
hours sobbing into her pillow before the sun came up. Her eyes were puffy and swollen from tears,
but Brienne needed to speak with someone, anyone, who could help her understand what happened
at Winterfell.

When the door opened, the young man with kind eyes gasped at the sight of her. “Ser Brienne!
Gods, are you alright? Come in.”

Pod guided her into the room as he shut the door behind Brienne. Aside from her own, the room
was the tidiest that Brienne had ever seen. She wondered how much of Pod’s meticulous nature
was reflective of her badgering over the years in which they were acquainted. She had a tendency
to be a bit anal where it concerned cleanliness.

Turning to face Pod, Brienne took a steadying breath. “I am in desperate need of some truths that
may be difficult for you to answer, but I need help.”

Nodding emphatically, Pod offered Brienne a seat on the bed. Remembering last night’s events,
Brienne grimaced and opted to stand.

“At Winterfell, was I with Ser Jaime?”

Pod sighed and rubbed a hand aggressively over his face. Looking to the window, he spoke quietly.
“Yes.”

Shame washed over Brienne. When the night prior she shook the vestiges of sleep to find Jaime
inside her, Brienne felt her world shatter. She thought herself a dishonored maid, but the reality
was worse.

I was his whore. An unwed noblewoman laying with a man who had, by his own admission, never
offered words of love. Gods. How desperate I must have been.

Brienne’s chin quivered as understanding washed over her. “Thank you, Podrick. Gods, you must
think so little of me. I’m so embarrassed at my whorish behavior. Please, don’t tell my father. He’ll
never forgive me.”

Desperation shone in Brienne’s eyes as she looked to Pod. When she saw Pod wince, Brienne’s
stomach dropped.
Oh gods. He knows.

“I think I’ll take that seat.”

Brienne stumbled backwards to the bed and buried her face in her hands. The young man crouched
before her and grabbed her wrists. His voice was filled with sorrow.

“Your behavior was not whorish. You could never be that. You are the most honorable woman I
have ever met. You were a maid before Ser Jaime. Even at Winterfell, you were the picture of
propriety.”

Brienne snorted as she glanced at Pod through her lashes.

“The picture of propriety. I was Ser Jaime’s whore, Pod. I willingly laid with a man despite no
words of love nor commitment.”

“No! You loved one another. I’ve never seen any man look at a woman the way Ser Jaime looks at
you.”

There was an earnestness to Pod’s voice that touched Brienne. Even in her failure, Pod tried to
justify her behavior. With a small smile, Brienne reached out and squeezed Pod’s shoulder.

“You’re a good friend. Please, don’t try to justify what I did. I know my love was unrequited.”

Pod grimaced as his head turned away. “Please don’t make me defend him. Gods…”

With a heavy sigh, Pod returned his attention to Brienne. “I don’t know if I’ll truly forgive what he
did, but Ser Jaime loved you then as he does now. The day we met, I felt there was something
between you both, but I couldn’t name it. Then when we saw him at Riverrun, and I knew there
was something more. When we rowed down river from the castle, I thought he might jump in and
swim after you.”

Riverrun? What?

Pod huffed a small laugh before meeting Brienne’s eyes.

“Then at Winterfell, I knew. Everyone knew who cared to look. It was written all over his face. I
saw it when he asked to serve under your command. When he knighted you. When he fought at
your side against the dead, refusing to leave you for even a moment. You both seemed so happy…
and then he left. He lied to you about why he left so that you wouldn’t follow, and it broke your
heart. I hated him. I wished the worst on him, and I’m sorry for it.”

Pod wrung his hands in frustration as he stood. A question formed that he seemed to struggle
giving voice to.

Taking pause to consider Pod’s words, a deep unease set in Brienne. “Does everyone know that I
was with Ser Jaime? Does everyone know me as little more than his whore?”

Pod’s eyes fell and Brienne wished she hadn’t asked. Ignorance was far more blissful than this
truth.

“People knew you were together. Only those soldiers and Lady Sansa thought you his… I won’t
even say it because you’re not! The men respect you. I respect you. King Jon respects. He respects
you enough to make you an offer as Lady Commander of his Kingsguard. He told me and your
father of it.”
Gods. This is horrible. What a jape I must be to everyone. The ugly woman who fell into bed with
one of the most handsome men in Westeros. What a fool I was.

Pod’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Did you remember it then? Your time with him?”

Brienne felt her face heat at the question. Memories from the night prior pushed to the forefront of
her mind. It had seemed a most vivid dream.

It was cold and she was covered in furs while lying beside someone. The fire had gone out, and she
reprimanded herself for it. A fervent thought had entered her mind as her bed companion stirred.

I have to keep the fire going. It’s the first thing I learned in the North.

She muttered it more to herself than the man beside her. Jaime. He felt so familiar in the dream. It
felt the most natural thing in the world to be sleeping at his side.

In her dream when he kissed her, she didn’t startle. Strangely, she expected it. It felt as though it
had happened innumerable times before. The act felt as familiar as polishing her steel or putting on
armor.

As he moved over her and their bodies became one, Brienne felt the dream fading away. Her
senses were slowly coming back to her as she kept mumbling his name and reaching for him.

It was frightening at first; the sensation of Jaime falling away, but then he was there once more.
The room they were in was different, but the feeling of their bodies joined was the same.

Brienne had realized it then. She was awake and he was inside her. For a moment, she stilled below
him as she realized what they were doing.

Brienne knew she should say something, but it felt achingly good. Her body wasn’t in pain as she
expected the loss of her maidenhead should feel. It felt right somehow; familiar. Then fear took
over and Jaime seemed to sense it. Brienne called out to him questioningly.

“Jaime?”

When their eyes met, she saw panic on his face. It hurt to think back on. For Brienne, it seemed the
face of regret and lack of awareness for who had been in his bed. She was embarrassed and afraid.

Septa Roelle had stressed that the only value Brienne would bring a match was her maidenhead
and Evenfall. Now she was no longer a maid. If her father found out, she would no longer have
Evenfall.

It seemed more likely that she gave her maidenhead to a man half-awake and envisioning the love
of his life who was certainly not her.

Looking at Pod now, Brienne shook her head in refute. “No, I didn’t remember it. Well… I’m not
certain. I think I had a dream implying as much. He admitted it to me. The physical part of our
friendship that is.”

Pod snorted and shook his head. “My lady. Ser. That is a great deal more than friendship. I should
hope to not be doing that with those I consider a friend. And if I may, as a man, certain things can’t
quite happen with uh… stuff… if it is only friendship that is felt.”

Oh gods. My squire is giving me the talk. This day can’t possibly get any worse.
“Right. Thank you, Pod. I get it. May I ask you one other thing?”

Pod looked as relieved as Brienne felt for the change in subject. Nodding eagerly at Brienne, Pod
stood to full height and awaited Brienne’s question to come.

The question that Brienne was about to ask was one she was confident she already had the answer
to, but she wanted to hear it from someone else. Someone admittedly not pleased with Jaime.

“Did Ser Jaime try to kill Lady Sansa while we were at Winterfell?”

At the question, Pod’s eyes went wide.

“No! Why would you think that? I’m certain Lady Sansa was daydreaming of ways to kill him, but
nothing of the sort happened like that.”

With an appreciative nod, Brienne stood from the bed. “I thought as much. I just wanted to be
certain.”

Clearly something has broken irreparably with Sansa. She lied to me. What if she has done worse
than lie? Everyone seems to think she has wronged me in the most unforgiveable way.

As Brienne moved towards the door, Pod called out to her. “Are you going to Tarth as your father
said or will you stay now that you know about Ser Jaime?”

Brienne glanced back at Pod and shrugged.

“It seems I’ve done nothing but make terrible decisions on my own. My behavior was selfish.
Doing as my father asks and going to Tarth seems the one thing I can do to atone for my sins.
There is nothing for me here.”

As Brienne left the room, she heard Pod call out to her. “There is love.”

Shaking her head, Brienne pitied the boy’s naivety. He was a friend and willing to overlook what
she was. It was likely Ser Jaime had done the same and was willing to temporarily settle for the
likes of her. The only thing that Brienne knew for certain was that she was not lovable. Anything
speaking to the contrary was the lie.

The morning was a blur as Brienne broke her fast with Selwyn. Their ship would depart at midday,
and Brienne committed to being on it. Brienne found Jon to inform him of her inability to accept
his offer for the role of Lady Commander, but the king kindly refused her answer.

“Go home and recover. You’ve been through a lot. Your father intends to return when your
murderers are brought to the city. If you join him, I would ask for your answer then. According to
Bran, our men are nearly upon them. They should arrive in King’s Landing for trial in just over a
moon turn. I will await your answer then.”

With a sigh, Brienne agreed. Now as she made her way towards the courtyard to leave for the port,
Brienne heard someone call out to her.

“Ser Brienne.”

The title still sounded strange and Brienne almost didn’t reply. Turning slightly, she observed a
young man in a wheelchair sitting passively by a side door.

“A moment of your time?”

With a slight shrug, Brienne walked towards the young man. Brienne imagined him to be Lord
Bran based on other’s description of him. The sight of his broken body reminded Brienne of the
crimes Jaime committed against the young man.

Does he hate me for having been with the man who crippled him?

At her approach, Bran offered a small smile.

“I’m sorry that I’m unable to show you everything. I can only show those close to death or simple.
Their minds are more receptive to my intervention. You are neither.”

The words struck Brienne as odd. With furrowed brows, she nodded slowly.

“Um… that’s quite alright. You must be Lord Bran, correct?”

“Yes, though I’m more three-eyed-raven than Bran.”

What? Gods. How hard did Ser Jaime push him?

“I’m not entirely clear what that means, but I’m certain its lovely for you.”

Bran chuckled slightly and shook his head. “Kinvara asked you a question before you left Volantis.
Do you recall it?”

Brienne thought back on the parting question from Kinvara.

“Ser Brienne. Did you think it possible that you could be raised from the dead?” After Brienne
refuted the thought, Kinvara continued “Then perhaps it is not impossible that you can be loved.
Be open in this life. I can assure you that it won’t be the same as the last.”

With a slight nod to Bran, Brienne’s tone was more a question than answer. “Yes.”

“Good. It seems you’ve forgotten the advice. She loved you, you know.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed slightly at the words. The ‘she’ hung heavy between them before Bran
spoke once more.

“Your mother. She sang to you. I imagine that’s why you enjoyed the singers your father brought
to court at Evenfall. He noticed it was the only time you smiled, so he always kept a stream of
musicians visiting.”

The memory of her mother was one that Brienne didn’t recall from before. She had been wondering
if she didn’t recall her before dying or if it was another memory lost to her now.

“I don’t remember her, though I don’t think I remembered her before I died.”

Bran shrugged slightly. “Apparently not if you thought yourself unloved. She wasn’t the only one
of course. Your father loves you deeply even if he as erred greatly. Quite a few people love you,
but there is only one romantic love in your life. Your twin flame. Did you know that Ser Jaime has
only laid with two women his entire life?”

Brienne felt her face flame. She glanced around the hallway praying to the gods that no one was
close enough to hear Bran’s comment.

With a slight shrug, Brienne shook her head. “No.”

“He has had ample opportunity to lay with others. The gods afforded physical beauty to someone
who would never use it for his own gain or pleasure. Quite obnoxious really. I don’t see why they
couldn’t spare a little beauty to the rest of us. Ser Jaime rejects the advances of women as hurriedly
as a brothel worker rejects a patron without coin. Men like Bronn would kill to have a face such as
Jaime’s. A face that could bring him a new woman to bed every night. Ser Jaime only wants for
one. You.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide as she stammered. “Well he likely just feels that way now. He has been
through a lot. I’m certain with time, he will come to love another. Not a false love born out of
loneliness or some temporary madness.”

A small smirk tugged at the young man’s lips. “You describe his first love. What he found with
you is true love. He will never love another as he loves you. He’s going to give it all up for you.”

Confusion was heavy in Brienne’s tone as she appraised Bran and took a tentative step towards
him. “Give what up for me?”

“Himself.”

Jaime

Jaime banged on Tyrion’s door and huffed impatiently. He was in desperate need of advice and no
one could offer it like his little brother. When Tyrion didn’t answer quickly enough, Jaime knocked
more aggressively.

A tired voice called out from the other side of the door. “Gods. Enough. I hear you.”

The sound of shuffling of feet wafted into the hallway from under the door. With a loud creak, the
door opened to reveal a disheveled looking Tyrion. Extending his arm to indicate welcome entry,
Tyrion spoke slowly as though it pained him.

“Ah, brother. What can I…”

Jaime pushed passed Tyrion and into the room. With a small laugh, Tyrion finished his sentence.

“… do for you. Please, come in.”

Rounding on Tyrion, Jaime could barely contain the panic in his voice. “I fucked up and I need
your help.”

“Again? Seven hells, Jaime. What more could you have done? I’m starting to think you do this for
sport.”

Urging Tyrion to shut the door, Jaime sat dramatically on the edge of Tyrion’s bed. The room was
a mess. Books were scattered throughout, clothes littered the floor, and an empty jug of wine sat
perched on the table.

Tyrion shuffled to the table and sighed in disappointment at the empty wine jug. Grumbling to
himself, Tyrion reached for an untouched glass of water nearby.

Jaime cleared his throat and braced himself for the reprimand to come. “I… I accidentally had sex
with Brienne.”
Spluttering on his water, Tyrion gripped the table and reached for his throat. He tried to respond as
he choked and struggled to breath properly. “You… what!? How the… fuck…”

Tyrion stopped to cough and steady his breathing as he turned in horror to Jaime. “How the fuck do
you accidentally have sex with someone!? Did you trip and while descending, disrobe one another
thus allowing your cock to accidentally fall into her!?”

Grimacing at the words, Jaime rubbed his neck and looked away. He explained what had happened
including Brienne’s secretive visit with Sansa. When he told Tyrion all of it, he glanced at his
brother.

“I swear, it was as though we were in Winterfell. I was half-awake and everything just felt like we
never left. I think she even bitched at me about tending the fire. It was all a fog. An incredible
feeling fog, but a fog nonetheless.”

Tyrion groaned in frustration and buried his face in his hands. “So, she woke up to find her
maidenhead being taken for a second time by the same man who still had yet to offer words of
love. Great strategy. Why the fuck would you even have her in your bed!? You could have ensured
she was no longer faint, and then walked her politely back to her room. By politely, I mean not
with your cock inside her.”

“I know! Alright! This isn’t helping. Tyrion, I can’t lose her. Please. Help me figure this out. I
just… she looked so lost and unwell. I didn’t intend to fall asleep beside her. I had barely slept in
two days! This has all been rather overwhelming.”

With a loud snort, Tyrion took a long sip of his water before glaring at Jaime. “Yes, well imagine
how she feels! She thought herself a maid and woke up to you rutting away on top of her!”

A momentary silence fell over them as Tyrion looked to the window. Jaime could see Tyrion’s
mind fast at work, and Jaime prayed to the Seven that his little brother had an idea for his plight.

“We need Bran. Someone objective that can validate your confession of love. Do you think he can
be objective? You did push him from a window after all. Unfortunately, I don’t know how much
time we’ll have.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed at the words. “Time? What do you mean?”

With a hum, Tyrion moved to Jaime and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “Her father plans to
leave for Tarth today. I imagine she’ll be departing with him.”

No. She can’t leave now. Not like this.

Jaime knew that he had to be honest with Brienne about one more thing before she left. It was
likely that she would only hate him more for it, but judging by how disastrously the night prior had
gone, Jaime knew that it couldn’t be avoided.

After briefly washing up and changing into a fresh set of clothing, Jaime moved quickly towards
the royal apartments. Upon arrival, he was shocked at the state of things. He pondered if it could,
or should, be restored. So much madness had occupied the rooms over the years, and its current
state reflected that.

The structure was unstable and with every step Jaime took, he could feel the scattering of chunks of
stonework. His heart raced as he appraised the path to his old room. Dust hung heavy in the air as
debris lined the path. It seemed someone had come through already and tried to clean the area as
bricks and stone had been pushed to the sides of the hallway.
The windows were shattered, and a warm breeze wafted in; blowing Jaime’s hair slightly. Using
his flesh hand for balance, Jaime slowly crept forward. A few times, Jaime lost his footing. His
hand reached out to steady himself; dragging along jagged edges of fallen brick.

When eventually Jaime reached his old room, he stepped inside and appraised the space. Furniture
had been overturned from fallen stonework. The space was blanketed in dust and debris. It was a
bit difficult to breathe as Jaime made his way towards the chest at the foot of the bed.

In his haste to leave King’s Landing, Jaime left much of his belongings behind. When he road
north, he brought only the clothing on his back, his sword, and a small amount of coin. It had not
crossed his mind that he would ever see his room again. He imagined his belongings would be
divvied out among castle attendants as Cersei ordered his room turned over for someone else.

Opening the chest, Jaime kneeled and rifled through his belongings. He never had much to his
name. As a member of the Kingsguard, anything he needed was provided for him, but his need or
desire for material possession was nonexistent. A must un-Lannister trait.

As Jaime’s hand fumbled around the chest, he found what he was looking for. The small, cloth bag
was as he left it. He stuffed it into his jerkin and moved from the room.

With possession of what he came for, Jaime ignored the burning of his hand from the many scrapes
he earned on the path to his old room. His stomach growled angrily from having missed the
morning meal and Jaime knew lunch was likely underway.

When Jaime emerged from the section of the Keep containing the royal apartments, he moved
quickly towards the hall. Tyrion and Bronn were seated at a table finishing lunch as Jaime
approached.

“Tyrion, have you seen Brienne?”

His little brother offered a sympathetic smile. “They are preparing to depart for the docks. I believe
she was on the way to the courtyard to meet with her father and Pod.”

Fuck.

Running from the hall and towards the courtyard, Jaime saw Brienne stepping away from
someone. Bran.

“Brienne! Wait, please.”

At his approach, Brienne’s eyes darted around nervously as though looking for aid. It broke his
heart that his mere presence caused such discomfort.

“Ser Jaime. I was just leaving. I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to speak with you.”

“Please. Just a moment.” Jaime’s eyes were imploring as he stood before her. His eyes moved
uncertainly to Bran who looked between them with an amused expression on his face.

Gods damnit, Bran. You truly are enjoying my suffering.

Despite her apparent reservations, Brienne relented. Jaime guided her towards a side room just
opposite the castle entrance. The information he planned to share was not something Jaime wished
to offer, but he wanted it to come from him. His greatest fear was Brienne remembering while
alone or among those who could not support her through it.
“I’m very sorry about last night. I hope you don’t feel taken advantage of. It was all so hazy. It felt
as though we were back at Winterfell together. I feel terribly for it.”

Brienne’s discomfort was evident, and Jaime averted his eyes to collect himself. “When I left, I
said horrible things to you. I tried to make you believe that I was doing everything for Cersei,
because I feared you would follow me. I would have happily died knowing you were safe, but I
should have been honest, and I’ll regret it until the day I die. You asked me to stay and I didn’t,
though I’ve never wanted for anything more. There was one thing that I didn’t know when I left
though.”

Jaime could feel the tears forming at the back of his eyes. His throat burned as he took a moment to
collect himself.

“Not long after I left, you realized you were… with child. Our child.”

Unable to look at her, Jaime could feel her shock ripple through the room. A small gasp pushed
past her lips. Summoning all the courage he had, Jaime met her eyes.

“The reason everyone hates Sansa so much, is that aside from exiling you and sending you away
without supplies, horse, nor coin, she gave you moon tea. You didn’t know it, and then you lost the
babe alone in the woods. Our child.”

A slight quiver of Brienne’s chin broke Jaime. He felt the tears leave his eyes as he thought on the
babe that should have been. He reached into his jerkin and produced the small bag that he had
brought to King’s landing when he joined Aerys’ Kingsguard.

From it, Jaime produced a small lion pendant and chain. He placed it in Brienne’s palm, but he
held on tightly to her hand as he spoke.

“My mother gave this to me as a boy. She called me her little lion. I never thought I would have a
child to pass it on to, but I brought it to King’s Landing because it reminded me of her. It’s the only
thing I had from her. When Cersei’s children were born, they never felt mine. They weren’t mine to
claim and I wasn’t allowed near them; even as an uncle. I never even thought about having
children of my own, until I met you.”

Jaime took pause and glanced at Brienne through his lashes. “The day you left King’s Landing
with Pod, was the first day I looked at this since I packed it for King’s Landing some twenty years
prior. I knew that I could never have you, but if I did, I would have wanted any child of ours to
have this. I want you to have it now. Even if you decide to take another man and bear his children,
I want you to have this for the babe we lost. Our child.”

Brienne stammered slightly and shook her head. “I can’t accept that. It’s yours. You’ll find
someone to truly love; not an unlovable woman such as me. You’re a good man. You deserve
someone who can make you truly happy.”

“Its our child’s. Or at least, it should have been. I don’t have anyone to give it to. I meant what I
said. I’ll not take another. I gave my heart to you years ago. There is nothing left for anyone else.
It’s yours. It will always be yours.”

Brienne’s face was a blur as Jaime released her hand and backed away. A small voice reached his
ears and offered the smallest spark of hope.

“Can I write you? Are you going home to Casterly Rock?”

“I’m not quite sure where home is. I’m not going west, but I don’t imagine I can stay here much
longer. They’ll kick me out soon enough. I would like if you wrote.”

Brienne’s brows rose at his words. “If you’re staying here, mayhap I’ll see you in a few weeks.
King Jon has asked us to return for the soldiers’ trial.”

Now I’m definitely not leaving.

Nodding in agreement, Jaime watched as Brienne looked at the pendant in her hand. A sorrowful
expression tugged at her features. “I’ll cherish it for the babe we lost. I don’t know if it’s a blessing
or curse that I can’t remember it all. I suppose its likely best for Sansa that I didn’t. I’m not hurt by
what she did to me, but an innocent babe…”

Brienne grimaced and clutched the pendant tightly. Tears welled in her eyes as she moved forward
and hugged Jaime. It was both the most wonderful and painful embrace of his life. He didn’t know
if he could let her go.

Please stay with me.

“Can I see you off at the docks?”

With a small nod, Brienne agreed. They left the small room and Jaime’s hand twitched at his side.
He wanted for nothing more than to hold her hand in his, but at the sight of Selwyn waiting by the
horses, Jaime thought better of it.

“What is he doing here?”

At Selwyn’s question, an annoyed sigh pushed past Brienne’s lips. “Do you plan to control every
aspect of my life? I won’t get on the ship if you start this again.”

Selwyn’s mouth clamped shut as he climbed atop his horse. Jaime noted a flicker of trepidation on
Pod’s face as he mounted his horse and guided it beside Selwyn.

Realizing the additional rider, an attendant ran quickly to the stables to bring Jaime a horse. The
sun was warm on his neck as Jaime stood waiting in the courtyard. Memories of sharing a horse
with Brienne rushed back to Jaime.

When the attendant returned, Jaime quickly mounted the horse, and the group setout for the docks.
The ride was quiet, and Jaime was shaken by the state of the city. Many buildings were in
disrepair, and Jaime wondered if life would ever be the same in King’s Landing.

Mayhap that’s how I can help. I can help them rebuild. They never let me do that at Winterfell.

Glancing to Brienne, Jaime noted the shock on her face as she took in the city’s destruction. As
much as Jaime regretted how he left, he was glad that Brienne wasn’t there for the siege. She
might have been one of many innocents burned in wildfire or dragonfire.

When they reached the port, Jaime watched the trio board the ship. His spirits fell as the crew
prepare to push back from dock. Brienne moved to the front of the ship and glanced down at Jaime
with a sad smile on her face.

As the ship pushed back, Jaime felt as though he was standing atop the battlements of Riverrun
once more. He had to fight the urge to jump into the Blackwater and swim after her. The
expression Brienne’s face was one of uncertainty. Trying to appear reassuring, Jaime forced a
small smile and raised his golden hand in goodbye.
 The action seemed to spark something in Brienne. Her eyes went wide as her hand slowly came up.
Even as the distance between them grew, he saw his name at her lips. With Pod at Brienne’s side,
the young squire grimaced and ran a hand over his face. He moved away quickly to rejoin Selwyn;
an urgent conversation playing out that Jaime had no chance to hear.

I wonder if I can just sit on this dock for a few weeks.

Chapter End Notes

So this is the turning point for angst. Next chapter gets a lot better. I promise.
 Together and Apart
Chapter Summary

Brienne on Tarth and Jaime in King's Landing. Both are doing their best to move
along.

Brienne

It had been three weeks since Brienne returned to Tarth. Three weeks since she stood at the rail of
the ship, but all she had seen was Riverrun and a rowboat.

The people of Tarth recognized her immediately, and most seemed surprised by her presence.
Being a port city, it didn’t take long for word to arrive of why she was home.

Everyone was kind to Brienne’s face despite acting as though she was deaf. Whispers at her back
worsened Brienne’s already low morale. It wasn’t that the comments were cruel, but they were a
harsh reminder of her failures.

‘The Northern girl exiled her.’ ‘I heard they killed her only to bring her back.’ ‘The call her
Kingslayer’s Whore on the mainland.’ ‘Is she truly a knight?’ ‘She’ll never find a match.’ ‘Who
will succeed her?’ ‘The Tarth line dies with her.’

The Tarth lines dies with her. It was the most difficult truth to hear. From a young age, Brienne
came to learn how undesirable she was. Failed matches, hushed words, and a cruel Septa, all made
it clear to Brienne that a husband would only bed her for duty… if Selwyn could find her a match.
If not, Brienne was the last of an ancient House.

Since returning to Tarth, no additional memories returned. Podrick spent most of his days at
Brienne’s side. The young man was always chipper, but Brienne could sense his discontent
beneath the surface. It was evident that Pod was uncertain about life on Tarth, though he never said
as much. As they rode into the village that day, Brienne confronted him about it.

“I appreciate all you’re doing for me, but I truly believe you would be better off in King’s Landing.
I’m confident that King Jon would knight you and name you to his Kingsguard. You are a fine
young man and following me around will do you no good.”

Pod’s eyes were resolute when he met hers. “I should have followed you the first time. I’ll follow
you now. I want to.”

Gods. This young man is too good to tie himself to me.

As they passed by small farms on the way to the village, the people smiled and bowed. Tarth’s
subjects were always kind despite their penchant for gossip. They were proud of their island and
House Tarth.

Brienne wondered if they were secretly dismayed at her return. It was likely her father would have
named a proper heir had she not.

When they arrived at the village, Brienne led Pod towards a shop that she visited frequently in
youth. It was the shop of a local smith.

The smith, Ilio, was a good man and produced only the finest quality armor and weapons. Now
that Brienne carried Oathkeeper at her hip, Pod had been carrying only a spare sword from
Evenfall’s armory. Brienne intended to rectify that.

As Brienne stepped into the shop, she startled slightly at the new face before her. “Oh. I’m terribly
sorry. I used to procure items here from Ilio.”

At her words, the young man frowned. “He was my father, my lady. Unfortunately, he died a
couple of years ago.”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I’ve been away for some time. I fear that I’ve not yet caught up with all
that has transpired in my absence.”

The young man offered a warm smile and nodded. “Yes, we’ve heard tales of your exploits. Were
it not for rumors from the mainland, I fear most might have thought you dead. Many from Renly’s
camp later backed Stannis and died on the Blackwater.”

It was yet another reminder of Brienne’s failures.

I never wrote my father. I thought he would prefer it that way.

With a nervous laugh, Brienne shrugged. “Well rumor is I died anyway.”

The man’s face flushed slightly. “Yes, we’ve heard those rumors as well.”

Gods. Does he think me a whore too?

Brienne forced a smile before glancing back at Pod. “This is Podrick Payne. He is a squire from
the mainland; although in truth he should be a knight by now.”

Without hesitation, Pod stepped forward and nodded. “I am Ser Brienne’s squire. I will not accept
knighthood unless by her sword. Were it not for her efforts, Tarth might find itself the only part of
the Westeros not ruled by death.”

Brienne felt her face flush at Pod’s overly generous words. She moved to correct Pod, but the
young smith spoke confidently.

“We’ve heard those truths. My father would have been proud, Ser Brienne. I know he provided you
weaponry for Renly’s war. He was quite proud of it. We heard that you won the melee at
Bitterbridge by knocking Ser Loras to his ass.”

Gods. Did I? It doesn’t sound likely.

Brienne’s eyes darted uncertainly to Pod who nodded in affirmation. Turning back to the young
man before her, Brienne spoke to what she did remember.

“Your father did make my weaponry. It was of the highest quality and served me well. As such, I
likely had an unfair advantage at the melee. I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch you name.”

The young man’s chest swelled with pride at the praise to his father’s work. “Balon, my lady. Ser.
How can I be of service today?”

“Pod here is in need of a proper sword. We’ve only spare weapons at Evenfall, and he deserves
something of high quality. I was hoping you could create one for him. Whatever the cost, I only
care for a few specific details.”

Balon’s eyes darted to Pod. He nodded to the young man before looking back at Brienne.
“Anything for the future Evenstar.”

Reaching into her jerkin, Brienne produced a paper containing an image of House Payne’s coat of
arms. “I would like the hilt to somehow incorporate this.”

As Brienne handed the paper to Balon, she then directed his attention to the other side. “This is one
option, but I made a bit of an adjustment to part of it.”

Brienne had not yet shown Pod her idea. In truth, she worried at his reaction. The House Payne
sigil was a checkered field of alternating purple and white. In the center of each square was a gold
coin. Instead of the gold coins, Brienne had changed them to gold sunbursts; a nod to their
friendship.

Appraising the revised sigil, Balon smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “I much prefer your
modification. I can have something ready in a few days if it please you, my lady ser.”

“That would be perfect. Thank you.” Brienne placed coin in Balon’s hand as partial payment.
Glancing back at Pod who had been unable to see the sketching, Brienne smiled and moved from
the shop.

As they walked leisurely back to the horses, Brienne saw a merchant speaking with a traveler. It
was always easy to determine who was a local and who a traveler from foreign cities or the
mainland. Judging by the attire of the traveler, Brienne guessed the young woman was Tyroshi.

Moving forward slowly, Brienne heard the merchant making his sale’s pitch as she admired his
wares.

“Yes, it’s real sapphire. Most might tell you that Tarth is known as the Sapphire Isle for the color
of its water, but I’ll let you in on a secret.”

The man leaned in close and raised a knowing brow at the woman. “In truth, the island is filled
with sapphires. We could buy all of Westeros if we wanted to. There is nothing so fine as Tarth’s
sapphires.”

At the words, Brienne’s progress towards the horse halted. Her heart began pounding and her face
paled at the words. Images of Locke, Jaime, and a hand, flashed in her mind. She winced at the
distant sound of Locke’s blade cutting through Jaime’s wrist.

Distantly, Pod spoke imploringly. “Ser Brienne? Are you alright? Look at me.”

Brienne followed the voice, but all she could see were Jaime’s eyes.

‘Defending the love of my life.’

“Jaime.”

Closing her eyes to wipe the vision from her mind, it only intensified. Her mind was wild with
imagery. Tied to Jaime atop a horse. Tending to Jaime through his fever. Jaime jumping into a bear
pit before her.

Those scars. I had wondered what made those scars.

Brienne reached for her collarbone and traced the lined scars that haunted her at night. She had
been so frustrated at her inability to remember where they came from. The scars seemed to hold
their own story as the touch intensified the memory.

Pod’s hands were at Brienne’s arms as he tried desperately to get her attention. “Brienne! Please.
Can you hear me?”

The use of just her name broke her from the memory. As the village came back into focus, Brienne
saw Pod standing before her with concern writ across his face. Villagers had slowed to appraise
Brienne; questioning eyes trying to make sense of the scene before them.

“I’m sorry. I just… I want to go home.”

With a nod and sigh of relief, Pod grabbed Brienne’s arm and guided her forward. “Of course.
We’ll get you back to Evenfall.”

Evenfall? I meant Jaime. I need to see Jaime.

When they returned to the castle, Brienne excused herself to the rookery. She clutched the lion
pendant around her neck as her mind raced. At her urgent pace up the marble stairs, her father
called out upon exiting his study.

“Brienne? Are you alright? Pod, what’s going on?”

Brienne heard Pod stammer a reply as she continued upstairs without acknowledging her father. “I
don’t know, my lord. We were in the village and I think she remembered something. All she said
was ‘Jaime’.”

Jaime

In the week following Brienne’s departure, Jaime had asked Jon for two favors. The first that he be
allowed to use the Keep’s rookery as he looked for housing in the city. The second that Jon name
Tyrion as Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West.

Jon had huffed a small laugh and crossed his arms while appraising Jaime. “I care little if you use
the rookery, Ser Jaime. I also care little if you choose to disinherit yourself. I’ll send word west and
to the Citadel.”

“Good. Thank you.”

Before Jaime could leave, Jon called out. “Now I have a favor to ask of you.”

Turning to face the king, Jaime’s brows furrowed as he awaited Jon’s request.

“Serve as my Hand. Then you can send as many missives to Tarth as you like.”

For a moment, Jaime’s mouth gaped at Jon’s accurate assessment of why he desired access to the
Red Keep’s rookery.

A hysterical laugh escaped Jaime’s mouth. “I imagine it’s a bit confusing really, but you mistake
me with my brother. You recall him? A bit short with a chin covered in some type of throw rug. He
is the one who serves as Hand. I’m just a knight.”

“Aye, I’m familiar with Lord Tyrion’s history in politics. He talked my ear off about it just days
ago. Of course, he has as much desire to participate in my small council as you have desire to rule
at the Rock. Besides, I want you as Hand. I had offered him the role of Master of Coin. I hear he
always pays his debts.”

Jaime’s brows knitted in confusion. “I know nothing of politics. You have access to seven
kingdoms’ worth of more qualified candidates.”

“For what purpose? I have Bran as Master of Whisperers. If I’m curious to know what has
happened from similar decisions made in the past, I can ask him. If I’m curious to know what
people are planning elsewhere in Westeros, I can ask him of that too. If I want to get daring and ask
if I’ll lose my head over my Hand’s shit recommendations, I can also ask him that. I think I’ll take
your shit recommendations. I want someone honorable; not conniving or politically savvy.”

Shaking the shock from his head, Jaime took a step forward; his eyes darting around the room
questioningly. “I’m just a knight, and most would argue I’ve done a shit job at that too. I think
you’re best off finding someone else for the role. I truly want nothing to do with politics.”

“That is why I want you for the role. We can hate it together. I don’t want the crown. Besides,
Bran tells me that you’ll get along famously with the person likely to take the role as Commander
of the Kingsguard.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed. He knew the role had been offered to Brienne, but she was on Tarth now
and only planning to return for the trial.

Sensing Jaime’s uncertainty, Jon smirked. “I have it on good authority that Ser Brienne will accept
my offer… and I’m changing the law to allow the Kingsguard to marry. Further, they can leave at
any time. I would be happy if you both serve for as long as makes you happy before you decide
what to do long-term. If you hate being Hand, I won’t force you here.”

The prospect of being close to Brienne was too good to refuse; even if it meant enduring the thing
he hated most. Politics.

“I suppose it might not be all that bad.”

Jon snorted and raised a knowing brow. “Thank you. I could use the help. Tyrion tells me that
you’ve been helping in the city during the day. Seems a good project to raise at our first meeting.”

“Did Tyrion take the role then?”

“I believe his words were, ‘If you can convince my brother to take the role of Hand, I do believe
that I can be convinced of anything.’ He probably should have asked who else I planned to extend
a role to on the small council.”

Jaime snorted. “Two Lannisters on a small council? Sounds dangerous.”

An uncharacteristic smirk tugged at Jon’s lips. “Two… maybe three. I suppose we’ll see what
happens.”

Just over a fortnight later, Jaime sat in the gardens staring out at the Blackwater. He was beginning
to lose hope in Bran’s prediction concerning Brienne’s acceptance of her offered role. Despite a
request to write him, Brienne sent no word. For his part, Jaime had written her six times.

After the sixth time, Jaime thought it best to give up. It seemed obvious Brienne had changed her
mind about communicating with him.
What if she wants the role, but changes her mind when she realizes that I’m Hand? I should resign,
I suppose. She earned the role whereas I have not. My reasoning for accepting it was selfish.
Without her, there is no point.

So lost in thought was Jaime that he didn’t hear Tyrion’s approach. His younger brother sat down
in a huff and snorted.

“Gods. Are you trying to compete with Jon for most brooding occupant at the Keep?”

The setting sun cast long shadows on Tyrion’s face as Jaime looked to him. “Apologies, Lord
Tyrion. I did not mean to offend you with my sulking. Blame Jon. Brooding grows on you.”

I don’t want thing growing on me indeed. Fucking idiot. I can’t believe my bumbling words that
night.

With a dramatic sigh, Tyrion reclined backwards and looked the sky. His tone was wistful as he
spoke more to himself than Jaime. “I prefer Winterfell Jaime. Winterfell Jaime was happy and
much more enjoyable to be around than King’s Landing Jaime.”

Jaime glared at Tyrion, but he recognized the truth in it. In all the years that Jaime had called
King’s Landing home, he had been Cersei’s creature. Strangely, Jaime never realized at the time
how miserable he was. It was Brienne who made him happy. He never truly smiled before her. It
was always the fake, arrogant smile of the Lion of Lannister. The Kingslayer’s smile.

“Yes, well I preferred Winterfell Jaime with Winterfell Brienne. Sadly, Tarth Brienne does not
seem fond of King’s Landing Jaime.”

Tyrion chuckled slightly at Jaime’s words and followed his eyeline out over the bay. “Willing a
ship with her aboard it won’t make it so, brother. Come, have a drink with me. Mayhap we can
venture into the city together. I hear the brothels are back in order.”

Jaime glared at Tyrion. Even if Tyrion meant it in jest, Jaime’s loyalty was to Brienne. Before he
could comment, Tyrion raised a defensive hand.

“I know. I know. You will not commit infidelity against the woman you are not in a relationship
with. Truthfully, I have little desire myself. Funny enough, while I failed at being Hand, my actual
hand grew quite strong and competent these past years.”

Oh gods. I forgot how disgusting Tyrion can be. He is worse than Bronn.

Bronn. Against Jaime’s advice, Tyrion offered Bronn a position serving as his glorified attendant
of sorts. It was much as it had been for Bronn when Tyrion was last in the role of Master of Coin,
and Bronn was quite pleased at his ability to continue tormenting Jaime at all hours of the day.

“I didn’t think you could get more inappropriate than your behavior at Winterfell. Congratulations.
You’ve outdone yourself.”

With an amused chuckle, Tyrion rubbed at his chin; his eyes sparkling with mirth. “I don’t
remember you being this much of a prude. It has been nearly a moon since you accidentally bedded
your lady knight. Come now brother. I’m certain your hand is quite strong at this point.”

“You’re a dog. Leave me alone.”

The mirth on Tyrion’s face was almost as irritating as his words. Reaching into his jerkin, Tyrion
produced a letter.
“Here. This just came in. A little something to help your hand’s strength training, I suppose.”

After placing the letter on the table, Tyrion hopped down from his chair and clapped Jaime on the
shoulder. “I’ll see you on the morrow.”

A wide smile stretched across Jaime’s face as he noted the seal bearing Tarth’s sigil. Tearing open
the letter, Jaime’s face fell as he glanced to the end and noticed the letter wasn’t from Brienne, but
rather her father.

Ser Jaime,

I’ve received word from Lord Bran that the Bolton soldiers will be at the Keep in a week’s time. I
should like to have some words with you when I arrive.

Lord Selwyn
 Denial and Acceptance
Chapter Summary

A moon after Selwyn, Brienne, and Pod left for Tarth, Jaime waits at the dock for a
guest or guests from the Sapphire Isle.

Jaime

Jaime frantically paced the length of the dock as he stared at the ship just out in the horizon. It had
been a week since Selwyn’s letter arrived, and Jaime prayed to the Seven that Brienne was aboard
the ship with her father.

In the event Brienne made the journey, Jaime had spent the day making himself presentable. He
dragged Tyrion into the city to join him for a shave and haircut. Of course, Bronn had insisted on
joining them. The sellsword was quick to add a degree of vulgarity to the process, which Jaime
hardly appreciated.

“Clean his face up, boys. He wants to be nice and smooth for when he’s between his lady’s legs.”

More amusing to Jaime was seeing his brother without a beard. “Gods. There you are. Half the
space your head usually occupies is now free.”

Now as Jaime looked out across the Blackwater, he scratched his chin nervously. At his back,
Arya’s teasing voice reached his ears. “Mayhap if you swim to the ship, you would spare this poor
dock from the hole you’re wearing into it. There will be nothing left for the ship to tie off to.”

“Shouldn’t you be out collecting more faces or something? Why don’t you take Bronn’s? He has
been more insufferable than usual lately.”

Arya hummed in feigned consideration. “I could take Selwyn’s face if you like.”

Jaime reprimanded himself for considering it. It felt as though Selwyn and Pod were his last
obstacle to Brienne, but he couldn’t seem to find a way around the giant of a man.

“Gods dammit Bran. Why can’t you just tell me if she is on the ship?”

Sparing a glance at the young man, Jaime scowled at the smirk tugging at Bran’s lips. “I suppose
its cruel of me to not give you a hand. It’s quite windy though. What if my host falls from the sky
and breaks a wing?”

I suppose I deserve that. It’s to be torture then. Lovely.

Based on the clipped note sent by Selwyn, Jaime worried that Brienne might remain on Tarth.
Jaime tried to put himself in Selwyn’s position. It was likely that Jaime would run any man through
with a sword who treated his daughter as he had treated Brienne.

I suppose I should be grateful he spared my life… so far.

“If she’s on the ship, I wager our Lord Hand here fucks it all up before she walks down the
gangway.”

At Arya’s words, Jaime began to reply, but Bran beat him to it.

“That seems a bit dramatic. I give him until we’re ready to leave port.”

Truly these are Ned’s children. They mean to destroy me mentally.

“Why are you still here, Lady Arya? Don’t you have a kingdom to be running?”

At her formal title, Arya scowled and unsheathed her dagger. Flipping it around impassively in her
hand, she took a step towards Jaime.

“I’m here to help serve northern justice to northern soldiers. Then I’ll return home… perhaps with
a new face or two.”

Jaime thought better of calling the young wolf ‘lady’ for the remainder of his impatient wait at the
dock. When eventually the ship approached, Jaime could feel his heart hammering in his chest. His
eyes desperately scanned the deck of the ship for any sign of Brienne.

As the ship prepared to dock, the looming figure of Selwyn Tarth came into view. When neither
Pod nor Brienne were at his side, Jaime’s heart sank.

Perhaps word already reached Tarth that I’m now Hand. Mayhap that is why she isn’t here to
accept the position.

Jaime’s face fell in resignation as his eyes met Selwyn’s. The crew set out the gangway for Selwyn
to disembark, and Jaime waited beside Arya and Bran to greet him. When Selwyn stepped onto the
dock and marched towards them, Jaime forced a smile in greeting. He bowed his head and spoke
quietly.

“Welcome, Lord Selwyn. We’ll be taking you up to the Keep.”

With a huff, Selwyn shook his head. “Assuming the king has no immediate need of me, I would
like to have words with you upon arrival at the Keep.”

Jaime nodded in understanding and began to push Bran’s wheelchair towards the carriage. Familiar
voices drifted through the air from the direction of the ship. Halting his progress towards the
awaiting horses and carriage, Jaime looked back to observe Pod and Brienne stepping onto the
gangway. The pair was having an animated conversation as they walked leisurely from the ship.

When Brienne’s eyes met Jaime’s, a small smile stretched across her face, and Jaime felt as though
he might die of happiness. Abandoning Bran, Jaime ran to greet her.

Distantly he heard Bran call out to him. “Ser Jaime, come back. I need a push.”

Ignoring Pod’s presence entirely, Jaime barreled into Brienne. His arms wrapped firmly around her
as he choked back a sob. Everything that was not Brienne faded away. All he could smell was her
scent. All he could feel was her body. All he could hear was her voice.

“Ser Jaime. Its nice to see you.”

Ser Jaime. Not Jaime.

Collecting himself, Jaime stepped back and nodded. “Ser Brienne. Apologies. You look well.”
Glancing at Pod, Jaime’s mirth died. Averting his eyes, Jaime nodded politely in greeting.
“Podrick. Its good to see you.”

“Its Ser Podrick now. I knighted him. Well… me and my father’s Master at Arms. Just in case
anyone questioned it, I wanted a second knight to affirm the title.” Brienne grimaced slightly at her
own words.

It hurt Jaime to hear that Brienne questioned her knighthood. If nothing else came from the visit,
he hoped to correct that misconception. Jaime’s eyes appraised Brienne and landed on the lion
pendant around her neck.

His breathing faltered at the sight of it. Judging by her lack of communication, he wondered if she
had cast it into the sea not long after leaving the city a moon turn ago.

A smile tugged at Jaime’s lips as his eyes lingered on her neck. The bruising from the noose was
gone, though he imagined the emotional wound would never heal.

“You kept it. Thank you.”

As Brienne realized what he was looking at, she grabbed the pendant between her fingers and
smiled. “Of course. I wear it in honor of our babe.” Glancing to Pod, an uncomfortable smile
tugged at her lips. “Can you give us a moment, Ser Podrick?”

With a huff of laughter, Pod nodded. “Always so formal. How come Ser Jaime gets to be just
‘Jaime’.”

Pod winked at Jaime before walking away. The act nearly sent Jaime backwards into the bay in
shock. When his eyes returned to Brienne, he could see the color creeping into her cheeks. Clearing
her throat, Brienne bit her lip before speaking.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t answer your letters. In truth, I only received them a few days ago.”

Oh. Here I thought she hated me.

Jaime spoke teasingly, but he could hear the nervousness in his tone. “Quite alright. It was King
Jon’s fault really. He said that I could have access to as many ravens as I wanted. I was ready to
send Bran next, but here you are.”

Brienne chuckled at the words and it sent a warmth through Jaime’s body. He glanced to the end
of the dock were Selwyn appeared to be growing impatient.

“I suppose we should get to the Keep. Your father seems ready to tear my head off.”

Before Jaime could extend his arm to Brienne, she began to walk forward. A slight disappointment
washed over him as he moved quickly to walk at her side.

“How is life on Tarth?”

Brienne grumbled in response. “Well I certainly recall why left.”

“Did you remember anything else while on Tarth? The maester and Sam hoped you might.”

At the question, a blush spread across Brienne’s face. “I remembered who you lost your hand
defending. And your affinity for bears.”

Glancing at him, Brienne’s eyes held a warmth and recognition that Jaime longed for. A wide
smile spread across his face in response.

“Yes, I was quite devastated when she died. Luckily death is not so permanent as I thought. Did
you remember anything else?”

Brienne stopped walking just out of earshot of her the small group waiting to depart for the Keep.
“Yes. Just two other things that only came back to me a week ago. One a memory and one…
something else.”

Jaime could stop staring at her. He wished for nothing more than to kiss her. Staring at her mouth,
Jaime listened as Brienne spoke; a smile tugging at her lips.

“First, I remembered that Podrick is shit at hobbling horses. Otherwise, he’s a very worthy knight.
And second…”

Jaime could see that Brienne was very uncomfortable by whatever she was about to say. Her hand
gripped the hilt of Oathkeeper tightly as she stammered slightly. The words came out just above a
whisper.

“I remembered why you felt so familiar. Why I felt so comfortable with you. Like being home. I
remembered how much I love you.”

Brienne

The week before they left Tarth, the fallout happened. When Brienne returned from the village
with a significant memory and feeling restored, she needed to get to the rookery.

Brienne needed to write Bran and understand if her memory of Locke, caring for Jaime, and the
bear was real. It was too embarrassing to ask Jaime, because if she was wrong, it would expose the
pathetic assumption the she could possibly be the love who Jaime spoke so ardently of loving.

It had been difficult to keep from writing to Jaime, but she wouldn’t allow herself to. Brienne
prayed to the Seven that with distance between them, Jaime could find true love.

Brienne believed Jaime’s false love for her a mere reflection of the ordeal he endured in leaving
Cersei.

‘I went to Winterfell because I love you. I returned south because I love you. I killed Cersei
because I love you. And I took you to Volantis because I love you still. I will never stop loving
you.’

He didn’t say he lost a hand because he loved me. He didn’t say he jumped in front of a bear
because he loved me. That would have been years before leaving Cersei. It’s likely not a true
memory, but merely the invention of a mind desperately wishing it was true. He couldn’t have
loved me then. I’ve never been lovable.

The lack of contact with Jaime was miserable, and the only way Brienne could describe the feeling
was like a dwindling flame. It seemed the longer she was away from Jaime, the worse she felt.

Brienne cried herself to sleep most nights for reasons she couldn’t explain. When sleep did find
her, she saw green eyes as she swayed from a tree. It was a vicious cycle from which there was no
reprieve.
In the mornings, Selwyn and Pod looked at her with nothing short of pity. The crying only
intensified when she remembered her feelings for Jaime. It had been easier before when she only
felt hints of something. Now that her body and mind recalled her unrequited love for him, it was
torture.

Jaime fancies himself in love with me to dull the pain from losing Cersei. From losing the love he
lost his hand for. If I give him space, he’ll meet someone that pleases him more. His love for me is
false. It won’t last. He won’t stay. Unfortunately for me, my love for him is all too real. It won’t
leave.

Then Bran’s letter returned from King’s Landing. Selwyn had despaired when it arrived. He called
Brienne into the study and threw the missive at her.

“Why have you written Lord Bran about the Kingslayer?”

“His name is Ser Jaime! How can you know the truth of what he has done, and still call him that
with little more than disdain in your voice?”

Sitting down in a huff, Selwyn rubbed angrily at his eyes. “You’re correct. I’m letting my personal
opinion of the man cloud the good he has done. Why have you written Lord Bran about Ser
Jaime?”

Taking the missive, Brienne flipped it over and saw her name on the outside.

“This was addressed to me!”

Selwyn feigned innocence and shrugged. “I didn’t pay attention. It was on my desk and I opened
it.”

With an exasperated huff, Brienne read the missive and bit back a small smile.

Ser Brienne,

You are not mistaken. Those are in fact your memories of Ser Jaime. Are you beginning to see it
yet? He only wants for one woman. You. His true love. His twin flame.

To your other question, no, only those Bolton soldiers think your knighthood unearned. The rest of
Westeros, or at least those who fought with you, think you a great knight more than worthy of the
title. One of the most honorable in the history of the Seven Kingdoms.

Bran

“You’ve not answered my question. Why have you asked about Ser Jaime? You’ve said nothing to
me of memories returning.”

Brienne shrugged. “What would I say father? That I am remembering how I loved a man that could
never return it? A man who you hate for actions committed against me, yet I do not hate him for
those actions. Perhaps its just another way in which I’ve failed you. I was thinking of accepting
King Jon’s offer to become Lady Commander of the Kingsguard. I’ll never be able to find
someone willing to have me, but mayhap I can make you proud in another way.”
To Brienne’s surprise, Selwyn leapt from his chair and walked around the desk to crouch before
her. “Do not say that! I am proud of you. You have done nothing to disappoint me. I’m happy that
you’re home and safe. I regret that it took death to return you to me.”

With a deep sigh, Selwyn stood and paced the room. “I have greatly erred in the raising of you. I
was selfish. After your siblings and mother died, I hid myself away. I couldn’t make myself happy,
let alone you. I tried to appease you in other ways. I kept singers at court. I let you learn the sword,
morningstar, and archery. I let you bow instead of curtsey; don breeches instead of dresses. I did
those things thinking they would make you happy. You seemed so miserable. I did everything
except provide you with the one thing you needed most. Love. For that, I am sorry, Brienne. I’ve
always loved you, child. My greatest regret is hearing that you died thinking yourself unloved.”

Shaking her head, Brienne looked away. “Everyone keeps telling me that I’m loved, but I don’t
feel it. It’s like someone telling you that you’re hot when you’re freezing. You know it’s wrong,
but their insistence begins to make you feel crazy.”

A pained expression flashed across Selwyn’s face. “That boy. The strange one who thinks he’s a
bird. He said this would happen; that the last thought before someone dies gets imprinted in a way.
It becomes difficult, if not impossible, to remove. It took years for his cousin to snap out of it, but
even now, King Jon still doesn’t feel as though he wants the crown nor that he is accepted. He is
doing it out of duty.”

Looking out the window towards the yards, Selwyn seemed to struggle with something. “I’ve lied
to you, Brienne. I didn’t do it to hurt you. I only meant to protect you.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed as she appraised her father. The light pouring in from the window
framed his face as it contorted in pain.

“The Kingsl… Ser Jaime… has been writing to you. I didn’t see Lord Bran’s letter by accident.
I’ve had all ravens from King’s Landing brought to me. I’m so sorry.”

Shock shone in Brienne’s eyes. “Why would you do that? How many?”

With a grimace, Selwyn looked to her. “Six. I’m not proud of it. Please, just try to see this from my
perspective. He admits that his actions led to your death! He dishonored you; treated you like a
brothel worker! He put a bastard in you. Then he hurt you by lying. By pretending to flee back to
his sister. I understand the reason, but it hurt you. As a father, I fear that if he he did it once, he
could do it again.”

Brienne felt her frustration build. Her fists balled at her side as she stood from her chair. “I want
the letters!”

Without another word, Selwyn walked to his desk and produced the stacked missives; all with seals
broken. Brienne’s body shook with anger as she snatched the letters from his hand. A ferocious
storm brewed in her that rivaled their kingdom’s name.

Pausing at the door, Brienne glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll be accepting King Jon’s offer as Lady
Commander of the Kingsguard. I may be incapable of being a wife and mother, but I can be a
sword. I can have a purpose. I’ll make my own decisions now.”

When Brienne sat down that night to read the missives, her heart sank at the growing sadness
beneath the words as the letters progressed.
Brienne,

I hope you got to Tarth safely. It’s awful here without you. I’m forced to converse with my brother
and Bronn. The king might be the most brooding man I’ve ever met, and he doesn’t appreciate my
japes.

How is Tarth? I passed by it once on the way to Dorne. It reminded me of you. I hope to visit
someday, if you’ll have me. I would stay for as long as you’ll have me.

Love,

Jaime

Brienne,

I was just in the city aiding the cleanup effort. I saw this rotting fish covered in black ash and I
couldn’t stop laughing. It reminded me of the Blackfish. A man so stubborn he makes you seem
compromising. I let you through siege lines years ago to treat with him on the North’s behalf. You
likely don’t remember that.

Do you remember anything else since you’ve been home? I was speaking to Sam and he said
familiar people or things might help. Mayhap Pod can tell you of some of your adventures. You
remembered a bit when we sparred. Mayhap you can spar with him?

Love,

Jaime

Brienne,

That’s it. I can’t continue to honor the oath to Lady Stark where it concerns her youngest daughter.
The creepy little shit jumped out at me the other day wearing my sister’s face! I almost died. Then
you would have needed to take me to Volantis.

Things are very annoying here. I’m starting to wonder if I should leave. I don’t think I’m good at
the role King Jon has given me. I’ve always been the stupidest Lannister. Mayhap I should go to
Essos. Could I stop by and visit you on the way? Just for a moment. I won’t stay if you don’t want
me to.

Love,

Jaime

Brienne,
I don’t really have a reason for this letter. I just miss you. I told you that I was hopeless. Are you
well? Are you happy? I told King Jon that I would at least stay in my role until the soldiers who
hurt you are brought to justice. I hope you’ll return to the city. Can I see you if you do?

Love,

Jaime

Brienne,

I understand if you don’t wish to see or hear from me. Could we perhaps be friends some day?
Mayhap I could serve Tarth? A bit of penance for what I’ve done to you.

Love,

Jaime

Brienne,

I don’t mean to annoy you. I just wanted you to know that I love you, and I’ll leave you be if you
prefer. I hope to see you in King’s Landing soon. I’ll keep my distance if that’s more agreeable.

Love,

Jaime

Now as Brienne sat outside the study that her father and Jaime were in, she took a steadying breath
and tried to maintain the courage it took to confess her love for Jaime. It still didn’t feel possible to
be loved by him. She feared that at any moment, he would realize how confused he had been and
how unlovable she was.

It had been Jon to convince her to try. After the fight with her father, Brienne immediately wrote to
the king. While Jon conceded he was not close to Brienne before, they shared a bond that made
Brienne feel she could confide in him.

Jon struck Brienne as impartial where it concerned her and Jaime. Summoning the courage, she
asked Jon bluntly of things. While pacing outside the study, Brienne recalled the letter from Jon
that she received in response to her query.

Ser Brienne,

I’m pleased to hear from you, and I’m glad to know that you’ll be in King’s Landing soon to give
me your answer.
Regarding your questions, I can offer you this. Yes, I still struggle to feel a want of this crown and
acceptance from those around me. I don’t know if those feelings will ever go away, and I’ll admit
that I’ve accepted the crown out of duty.

It’s possible you may never feel lovable, but maybe you will come to accept love; even if it
frightens you or seems unimaginable. It frightens me every day that I put on the crown.

I often wonder if those around me will kill me for my decisions. It seems unimaginable that I could
be accepted as anything other than a bastard, but every day I walk this Keep and this city to find
people bowing, smiling at me, and working with me to make Westeros better. It seems ridiculous,
but its real.

One thing I know for certain, is that Ser Jaime would be more than happy to make you feel nothing
but loved every day for the rest of your life; if you want that. I’m starting to wonder if he wants for
anything beyond that.

By the gods… show mercy on me and the rest of the castle occupants. Accept this man. He’s
starting to out-brood even me. If I make the mistake of getting him to talk about what is troubling
him, he won’t shut up about you.

I look forward to seeing you soon.

Jon
 Promises and Challenges
Chapter Summary

Jaime has a talk with Selwyn. Brienne encounters a man who quickly restores another
memory.

Jaime

The study had never felt so small as when Selwyn Tarth stood inside of it. Jaime felt as he did
when meeting his idol, Ser Arthur Dayne, for the first time. A nervous anxiety bubbled in his core.
While it was not revere that Jaime felt for Selwyn, it was a strong fear that rattled Jaime.

The older lord appraised the room slowly before meeting Jaime’s eyes. His lips pressed into a firm
line as he considered Jaime for a moment.

“Let me start by reiterating that I respect you as a knight. That is not the issue that I take with you.
My issue concerns my daughter. You concede that she died because of your actions. Because of
your lies.”

Swallowing thickly, Jaime nodded and looked to the floor. He was afraid of the judgement in
Selwyn’s gaze.

“My daughter has not had an easy life, and much of that is because of my failings. I suppose we
have that much in common. We're both to blame for her belief that she is unlovable. As a father,
my offense is greater.”

The words surprised Jaime, and he risked a glance at Selwyn. Looking up through his lashes, Jaime
saw the resignation and pain on the older lord’s face.

“I was a shit father. I’ve more regrets in my raising of Brienne than all other areas of my life
combined. I took her away from you, because I feared you would be the end of her again. The
problem is that she seems unable to start anew without you. Something is… off… with her.”

A slight panic filled Jaime as he focused his full attention on Selwyn. Their eyes met and a
wordless acknowledgement of their shared fear for Brienne passed between them.

“She is withdrawn and sullen. Every night when she retires, I check on her. I’ve yet to enter, but I
stand at her door poised to. Then I hear her crying softly to herself. At first, I thought it was merely
the shock of it all. Of finding out she died and lost years of memories. Of being back on Tarth. Of
hearing the whispers at the docks. The rumors from the mainland followed us home. All of them.”

The implication was clear, and Jaime winced. Averting his eyes once more, Jaime took a steadying
breath.

“Things have only gotten worse. A few times she has called out for you in dreams. Nightmares it
seems. Something about bears, wights, and… the babe. When she wakes, she doesn’t seem to recall
the nightmares, or perhaps she thinks them little more than that. She won’t talk to me or Pod about
it. She claims to have only regained a few memories; all but one of you.”
The older lord took a steadying breath. “I need your help.”

At the words, Jaime’s head snapped up to meet Selwyn’s eyes. He appeared defeated and
desperate. “I want my daughter back. This sullen woman isn’t her. My daughter was always a kind,
innocent, and loving girl under the surface, but to the world, she was a confident, stubborn,
determined warrior. I miss that in her. Now she seems to be fading. Like a dying fire. The only time
she smiles is when she thinks of you.”

Hope filled Jaime’s heart. After Brienne’s words on the dock, Jaime didn’t think he could possibly
be happier, but when they approached Selwyn to journey towards the Keep his hope faded. The
man seemed displeased, and Jaime worried that despite Brienne’s proclamation, she would honor
her father’s wishes and leave after their visit.

“Bring her back to me, please. Help her remember who she is. Help her understand how loved she
is. I fear that I may have lost my chance to prove myself on that account. I… betrayed her trust. I
withheld your letters. I intended to tell you to stop writing her today, but we had an argument and
I’ve realized some things. Well, that and she is properly pissed off at me now. I do believe she
intends to take King Jon up on his offer out of spite alone.”

Selwyn sighed and looked to Jaime. “Can you help her?”

“I’ll do everything I can. I would do anything for her.” Jaime’s tone was nothing but sincere. He
would move mountains for Brienne if he could. He felt to be moving one right now.

Taking a deep breath, Jaime spoke quickly. “I want for nothing more than to marry your daughter.
She is everything to me, and I want to make her happy.”

With a nod, Selwyn looked away and grimaced. A spark of anger ignited once more. “If you’re to
court her, do it properly! My daughter is not a whore to be used for your pleasure. She deserves
respect and decency. She plays at a knight, but she has a maiden’s heart. If I so much as hear more
foul rumors of what she is to you...”

Jaime put up a hand in understanding. “I’m certain you’ll see to it that I’m qualified to join the
ranks of the Unsullied.”

Selwyn hummed loudly and looked away. “Just… take care of her as I couldn’t. I hope that
someday she forgives me. She’s all I have left. My only kin. The only person left in this world that
I love. I can’t lose her again.”

“Nor can I. You have my word.”

As the men locked eyes, Selwyn huffed a small laugh and muttered loudly. “The Kingslayer of all
the fucking people. Stubborn child.”

It was the first time that Jaime heard his moniker used without disdain heavy in the speaker’s
voice. Despite the seeming end to their conversation, Jaime wasn’t certain if he should leave.

Glancing back at Jaime as though he was the greatest dolt to ever live, Selwyn shrugged and
pointed to the door. “Go on then. Much work to be done!”

Snapping to attention, Jaime moved quickly from the room. Brienne stood on the opposite side of
the hallway, leaning against the stonework. Moving to her quickly, Jaime reached out and tugged
her close. The embrace felt as incredible as the one at the dock.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

It felt as though Brienne melted into his arms at the words. “I’ve missed you too.”

Jaime buried his face against her neck. It still felt surreal to be holding her. The memory of holding
her lifeless body in his arms just over a moon turn ago haunted his dreams. Long gone were
Jaime’s nightmares of Aerys. Now in Jaime’s dreams, he only saw Brienne swinging in a cool
northern breeze.

As he pulled back, Brienne looked curiously at him.

“What?”

Brienne shrugged slightly; her face slightly amused. “I don’t have any memories of you without a
beard. It’s just… different.”

Seven hells. I hadn’t thought about that. Cersei said I looked best without a beard. Then again, she
likely said that because without a beard, I looked more like her. Fuck.

“Does it look bad? I’ve only ever had a beard… well… around you, know that I think on it. You
never allowed me a shave while dragging me about the Riverlands in chains. In the North, I
thought my jaw might freeze and fall off without it. Miserable weather.”

Brienne considered the words and shrugged. “It doesn’t look bad. It’s just different. Either way
looks good.”

Rubbing at his freshly shaven skin, Jaime quirked a smile. “I suppose I always did look rather
homeless around you. That’s how Tyrion described it at least. I wanted to give the appearance of a
noble homeless person for your arrival.”

“You’re hardly homeless. You live in this castle and have another one to your name.”

Jaime’s eyes fell at the words. He didn’t want Casterly Rock and had been happy to see it awarded
to Tyrion, but he wondered if Brienne would be bothered by the decision. If Jaime could be lucky
enough to marry her, he pondered if she would have preferred living there.

“I kind of disinherited myself. I asked Jon to give it to Tyrion and he did.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed at the words. “Why?”

“I never wanted to be lord. Particularly not if it meant a forced marriage to some boring lady of
court. I much prefer a marriage with a female knight who knocks me around the yards of someone
else’s castle. Do you care that I gave it up?”

Jaime bit his lip and glanced into Brienne’s eyes; afraid he might find disappointment there. With a
snort, Brienne shook her head.

“Why would I care if you gave that up? Besides, I think I’m quite homeless too. I didn’t
intentionally disinherit myself, but I believe I’ve accomplished just as much.”

Jaime’s hand came to Brienne’s cheek; his thumb brushing against her skin gently. “We can be
homeless together then. Though, I do believe your father is quite hoping you’ll return home. I just
wish to be wherever you are. You’re my home.”

Brienne
Jaime’s hand slipped into Brienne’s as he guided them towards the great hall. The touch was both
exhilarating and nerve-wracking. Brienne feared others mocking Jaime for showing her affection.

She tried to remind herself of Jon’s words. Taking a steadying breath, Brienne repeated the
commitment she made to herself.

Just try to accept whatever he offers. Even if temporary, it will be nice to have experienced
something akin to love. Certainly, the closest that I could ever hope for.

When they arrived at the hall, Brienne observed Tyrion, Bran, and Bronn sitting with Pod. Jon
stood near the front of the room speaking with a large, redheaded man who was unfamiliar to
Brienne. She did however recognize Ser Davos who stood at Jon’s side; his lips pressed into a firm
line as he nodded several times while the redhead spoke.

At their entry, the redheaded man did a doubletake. With a strangled sob, he charged at Brienne
and outstretched his arms. “My big woman!”

My big woman? By the gods, who is this man? Do I know him?

Brienne’s face betrayed her bewilderment. She felt Jaime’s arm tense as his hand tightened around
hers. Leaning into her ear, Jaime spoke through gritted teeth.

“This is that wildling I warned you about in Volantis, Brienne. By the Seven, I will strangle him if
you wish me to.”

Before Brienne could fully process the information, the giant man crashed into her. His arms
wrapped tightly around her, and he sobbed against her.

“Those southern fucks! I would have killed them all myself! Fucking animals!”

As he stepped back from the embrace, Brienne watched a strained, nonverbal exchange between
Jaime and the wildling.

Pulling the man’s attention back to her, Brienne spoke uncertainly. “I’m so sorry. I can’t recall your
name.”

The man’s face fell at the words. With a sorrowful sigh, he met her eyes “Aye. The little crow told
me that you’re fucked in the head.”

“She’s not fucked in the head!” Jaime growled at the man as he tugged Brienne close at his side;
sliding his arm around her protectively.

Brienne’s eyes darted to Bran who was watching on in amusement. “Lord Bran told you? The uh…
raven.”

The wildlings snorted and shook his head. “No. The crow!” He pointed back at Jon as though the
answer obvious. The king lingered at the front of the room as he appeared to be giving Davos
instructions.

Gods. Why do all the men here fancy themselves birds?

Abruptly, the wildling’s hands came to her arms. “Gods, you’re glorious! Like the crow, you beat
death itself! I knew you were incredible. You should have been mine.”

The man’s eyes darted to Jaime. His nose flared in aner as he appraised Jaime. Brienne could feel
the tension increase from moments earliest.

“Well she’s not. She prefers her men a bit less repugnant.” Jaime’s smile was cutting as he
appraised the man. His fingers dug into Brienne’s hip possessively as she tried to understand what
was going on.

“Aye. So why’s she with you? From what I hear, it’s you who got her killed.” The man’s chest
bumped hard against Jaime and they continued to glare at one another.

Brienne tried to diffuse the situation, but it was Jon who called the man off from down the hall.
“Tormund! Enough. We’ve spoken of this.”

Tormund backed away as Jon finished speaking with Davos and began to make his approach. The
wildling spoke through gritted teeth in naught but a whisper. “I wouldn’t have left her in the snow
crying, while claiming to run back to fuck me own sister.”

Letting go of Brienne with his left arm, Jaime’s golden hand wound back with intent to strike the
man. So lost in the exchange was Brienne, that she had not noticed Bronn, Tyrion, and Pod
approach.

At Jaime’s movements, Bronn and Pod were quickly pulling him backwards. The tension was
overwhelming, and Brienne felt more confused than ever. As Jaime shrugged them off, Bronn
stepped before Jaime and spoke warningly at Tormund.

“Careful now. I’ve seen that golden fist crack across a man’s jaw once before. Ya don’t want that.
This here is Ser Jaime’s lady knight. They chose each other.”

Tormund narrowed his eyes and began to reply, but before he could finish speaking, Pod
interrupted. “Enough Tormund. Ser Brienne makes her own decisions on who she means to be
with. If Ser Jaime makes her happy, I’m honor bound to run my sword through any man trying to
come between them.”

Oh, Pod. I quite adore you.

An appreciative smile stretched across Brienne’s lips as she met Pod’s resolute eyes. Tormund
guffawed and punched Pod playfully in the chest. “This one! Ya come a long way from the little
boy getting knocked into the snow by my lady love. I like it!”

Lady love? By the Seven, who is with this man?

The man’s eyes trailed back to Brienne. He looked her up and down lasciviously; the act sparking
something in Brienne.

I know that look. I’ve seen it before. Bloody awful! Gods damnit Tormund!

Brienne’s eyes went wide in realization before she groaned in exhaustion. Her face contorted in
distaste as she appraised him. “Oh gods. Tormund. No! I’ve told you ‘no’ a thousand times.”

In response, Tormund’s eyes softened, and a wide smile spread across his face. “You do remember
me!”

At Jon’s approach, everyone bowed in respect for their king, but Jon was focused on Tormund.
Jaime stepped territorially between Brienne and Tormund; his chest heaving with anger. It was
strange to see. Brienne did not recall Tormund and Jaime meeting or interacting previously.
The king spoke wearily as though it pained him to repeat words likely spoken earlier.

“I understand your concern and regard for Ser Brienne, Tormund, but please, we’ve discussed
this.”

With a resigned sigh, Tormund shrugged. “North of the Wall, we don’t leave a good woman like
that. I wouldn’t have left her like that.”

Jaime began to speak, but surprisingly it was Selwyn’s voice who spoke sternly from behind them.

“That is for my daughter and Ser Jaime to concern themselves with. I do believe that I just heard
her say ‘no’ to you.”

Brienne turned and watched as her father moved into the hall. Despite his age, Selwyn still held a
commanding presence. He bowed to Jon on approach. “Your grace.” As Selwyn’s eyes darted to
Tormund, his brow rose in question. “You must be Tormund. I appreciate you bringing the
prisoners to the city for justice.”

The wildling appeared awestruck by Brienne’s father. He spoke reverently as he appraised Selwyn.
“Are ya a giant? I thought they only lived in the North with my people. Our North’s last giant died
helping the crow win his little home back.”

Biting back a laugh, Brienne looked to the floor. She could practically hear her father’s eyes roll as
he sighed heavily. “I am not a giant. My people are merely tall. Perhaps you’ve noticed that about
my daughter.”

“Aye. She’s glorious! I had hoped she would be my woman. We could have made great monster
babies that would conquer the world! Are ya sure ya don’t have giant’s blood in ya?”

With a snort, Selwyn shook his head. “Not unless Ser Duncan the Tall was secretly a giant. He was
quite large; I’ll give you that. Made me look short.”

Brienne had known for much of her life the relation that her father spoke of. They kept her great-
grandfather’s shield in the armory of Tarth, and she always enjoyed looking upon it as a child. At
the words, Jaime’s jaw went slack. He glanced between the Tarths before turning to Brienne.

“You’re related to Ser Duncan the Tall!? You never told me this.”

Brienne was neither surprised nor unsurprised by the information. There was hardly a reason for
her lineage to ever come up in conversation; for what she could recall. With a slight shrug, she met
Jaime’s eyes. “Would there have been a reason?”

Before Jaime could question her father, Jon spoke to Selwyn. “I’ve sent Ser Davos to check on the
prisoners. A few of them are in a bit of rough shape, and we seem to have lost one along the way.”

Jon’s eyes darted in accusation to Tormund. The man huffed and raised his arms as though they
had covered the topic ad nauseam. “I told ya little crow, I didn’t like the way he spoke of my
woman. They killed her and the mouthy one had to go!”

“That is quite the point of a trial, Tormund!” Jon’s frustration was building, but he smiled slightly
when he looked at Brienne. Looking back at Tormund, Jon smirked. “Did you at least make it
painful?”

The returning smile from Tormund was the most frightening and savage thing that Brienne had
ever seen. “Aye. His little friends said nothing else for the rest of the journey here. I left pieces of
their friend along the way as offering to the bears.”

At the words, Jaime hummed and appraised the wildling. “Good. I suppose you’re not too
repugnant.”

Taking a step towards Jaime, Tormund tilted up his chin and narrowed his eyes. “Lets you and me
have a competition. Lets see who can make them hurt the most for what they done to Ser Brienne.”
 Hateful and Lovable
Chapter Summary

Jaime and Brienne discuss the upcoming trial for the northern soldiers and Sansa.

Jaime

“No, Tormund didn’t love me. I’ve been around men in army encampments. I was just… there. It
seems to be what men do with limited selection when celebrating.” Brienne’s voice was resigned as
she again denied Tyrion’s assessment of Tormund’s affections for her.

It was obvious to Jaime that Brienne’s statement was intended to apply to all men, including him.
Jaime hated knowing it was his behavior that implanted the idea in her head.

Tyrion guffawed as he poured more wine for each of them. “Oh, no. He loves you. Current tense,
Ser Brienne. At Winterfell, I thought my brother was going to explode with jealousy. It was
fantastic.”

“It wasn’t fantastic. It was awful. It’s still awful. Do you see the way he looks at her? It’s as though
he wants to devour her.”

Jaime’s words only served to encourage Tyrion, as the younger Lannister threw back his head and
laughed louder. Turning his attention to Brienne, Tyrion ignored Jaime’s outburst and continued.

“Truly. I hadn’t seen him that jealous since Cersei wed that whoremonger Robert. Well thinking
on it now, my brother was much more jealous of Tormund than Robert.”

“Don’t talk about her. They’re not on the same level.”

Brienne’s lips pressed together and turned down slightly. A slight panic rose in Jaime’s chest at the
realization that Brienne misinterpreted his words. For Jaime, there was no comparison. One was
the love of his life, and the other a monster.

Whispering for Brienne’s ears only, Jaime tried to capture her attention. “You are much more than
Cersei could ever be.”

With a barely audible sigh, Brienne shook her head. “I know what she was to you. You don’t need
to downplay it on my behalf.”

Jaime’s eyes darted angrily to Tyrion.

Why did he even bring up Cersei? He truly is of no help where it concerns Brienne. This is the
second time his little wine parties have gotten me into trouble.

The mirth on Tyrion’s face died when he noted the anger in Jaime’s eyes. Leaning into Brienne’s
ear, Jaime tried once more to ensure that she understood his feelings.

“I’m not downplaying it, Brienne.” Fumbling for her hand under the table, Jaime stared at the side
of Brienne’s face. “I meant what I said. That relationship was toxic at best. I killed her to keep you
safe, and I would do it again if I had to.”

Brienne shook her head. “You’re a good man, Ser Jaime. You killed her to keep King’s Landing
safe. I’m truly sorry that you had to do it. It’s awful. Please, don’t lie about the truth of your
heroics.”

“He’s not lying.” Tyrion’s voice was stern from across the table. The younger Lannister twirled the
stem of his wine cup between his fingers before lifting his eyes to meet Brienne’s. “My brother had
already watched Cersei use wildfire on King’s Landing by that point, and yet he stayed by her
side.”

Jaime moved to protest, but Tyrion put up a hand. “Come now, Jaime. You could have left. Even if
you didn’t love her then, you still remained at her side.”

With a sigh, Tyrion leaned forward and stared at Brienne for a moment. “My entire life, I idolized
my big brother. He was the only one who protected me from it all. The imp of Casterly Rock. My
own father tried to have me killed. It was Jaime who saved me time and time again, and yet, Cersei
was the only one he wouldn’t have waged war against for me. I resented him for it for some time. I
never understood the hold she had over him.”

Jaime shook his head and stared down at the table. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but
Tyrion wasn’t lying. Where it concerned Cersei, Jaime tried to play at middleman, but his love for
Cersei always saw him more on her side than Tyrion’s.

How did I not intercede more after Joffrey’s trial? I knew Tyrion was innocent, and yet I let Cersei
go for his head.

Tyrion continued as Jaime felt the shame of the words set in.

“Then he came to Winterfell on little more than an pledge; or so I thought. Slowly, I started to see
the true reason for his commitment to the living. It was you. I’ll admit that a part of me, while
happy for him to have found true love, was a bit bitter about it all. He would abandon Cersei for
you, but not for me. He killed her for you, but not for me. Not for King’s Landing. Not for
anything or anyone else. For you.”

Jaime winced. He had sacrificed his own name to save King’s Landing once, but when his sister
became madder than Aerys, he let her live. The silence weighed heavy on Jaime as he glanced up
at Tyrion.

“I’m sorry for it. I should have defended you more against her. I was pathetic, truly. Why I stayed
by her side is beyond me. If it came down to it, I wouldn’t let her kill you. You must know that.”

With a slight shrug, Tyrion offered a small smile. “The important thing is that you are free of her.
She stripped away the very essence of who you are for so long, and I feared for you. I worried you
would die with her. I’m happy that it was Brienne all along who had your heart. Nothing made me
happier than seeing you happy at Winterfell. I’m glad you have a chance at it again.”

Jaime’s hand tightened around Brienne’s. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, but
Brienne’s eyes bore a hole into her lap.

Trying to change the subject, Jaime met Tyrion’s eyes. “Will you be at the trial tomorrow?”

For some time, Jaime had wondered if Tyrion harbored feelings for Sansa. Tomorrow she would
stand among the soldiers who killed Brienne. While Sansa’s crime was not the same as the
soldiers, Jon wanted her present with her own judgement to follow.
“No. Why? Do you expect you will need advice from the Master of Coin?” Tyrion’s voice teased,
but Jaime could sense the hurt beneath the surface.

“Do you have feelings for her?”

A bitter laugh pushed past Tyrion’s lips. “Truly? She killed my…” Tyrion bit his lip and withheld
the rest of his thought, as his eyes darted to Brienne before settling back on Jaime.

“I thought Sansa a friend, and I feel betrayed by her. She used me to further her little plot against
Daenerys and our House. She deprived you both of something important. I told you a moon turn
ago how badly I wanted that for you. How badly I wanted to truly enjoy that alongside you both.
Her actions cost Ser Brienne her life. I do not wish to attend, because I fear that I may strangle her
myself.”

Noted. Do not imply otherwise again.

Tyrion sighed and took a long sip of his wine. “So, who will preside over the trial of the soldiers
and Sansa?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Jaime’s lips. “Myself, Lord Selwyn, and Ser Pod. King Jon has
recused himself.”

Tyrion snorted and shook his head. “Good. An impartial jury. Three men who love Ser Brienne for
different reason. Romantic love. Fatherly love. Kinship love.”

“Well when you put it like that, it feels slightly biased.” Jaime could barely control his laughter,
but he felt Brienne flinch beside him. Turning his head towards Brienne, Jaime’s brows furrowed.
“What’s wrong? Are you worried we’ll let the men walk free?”

“I don’t like what Tormund mentioned in the hall. The men should not be tortured if proven
guilty.”

Jaime’s brows rose to his hairline. “What!? If found guilty? You do recall that Jon and I brought
your dead body to Volantis? They deserve the worst, and I intend to carry out their judgement
myself.”

With a sigh, Brienne closed her eyes. “I don’t want anyone to do what Tormund has already done
to one of the men. It’s awful.”

For a moment, Jaime forgot that Tyrion was there. He turned his body to face Brienne, and tugged
her hand into his lap.

“Brienne. They murdered you for no reason. You did them no harm.”

Brienne shrugged slightly; her face scrunching in discomfort. “It just seems cruel to torture them.”

“What they did was hateful, and I’ll return it to them.”

At Jaime’s words, Brienne stiffened. She grimaced and withdrew her hand quickly. Forcing a
smile, she stood from her seat and nodded at both brothers. “I’m quite tired now. I’ll see you both
on the morrow.”

What’s going on? What’s wrong?

Moving quickly from his seat, Jaime left Tyrion alone in the small room they had been in since
supper ended some hours ago.

“Brienne. Brienne, please, wait. What’s wrong?” Chasing Brienne into the hallway, Jaime caught
up and grabbed her arm.

Shaking her head, Brienne’s eyes roamed the hallway as though she didn’t wish for anyone to come
upon their exchange. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“I know you better than that, Brienne. What did I say?” Jaime reached for her cheek, but Brienne
flinched away.

A slight desperation crept in, as Jaime tried to find the answer in Brienne’s eyes. “Please. Talk to
me, Brienne. Why have I upset you?”

Brienne closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. “It’s just the way you spoke in there. I was
reminded of something.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. He thought back on the conversation and tried to pinpoint what he or
Tyrion said that could have caused a memory to stir in Brienne.

As she opened her eyes to meet his, Jaime felt his breathing falter at the pain he saw on her face.

“She’s hateful and so am I.”

Brienne

The first thing Brienne felt was pain. It was as though someone had taken a knife to her heart and
torn it out. A reminder of how worthless her love was, for it could never be returned.

The second thing Brienne felt was worry. She remembered the list of hateful deeds that Jaime
claimed to have done for Cersei. Brienne had no desire for hateful deeds to be committed in her
name.

As the words washed over Jaime, Brienne watched his face pale. He shook his head and reached
out for her, but Brienne needed space; not touch. It had already been an overwhelming day, and this
was not helping.

Against her better judgement, Brienne had admitted to her love for Jaime. The acknowledgement
of it felt something owed to the man pouring his heart out to her and claiming to love her. While
she struggled to accept his love, she couldn’t bear to see him give it so freely without an admission
on her part.

Further, Brienne wanted to be honest. She had hidden her love for Renly, and when Jaime told her
that the young Baratheon was dead, Brienne’s heart broke. While his love would never have been
returned, she felt upset that she had never once told him; even if it meant hearing his laughter or
facing his rejection.

Brienne had committed to not hiding her feelings for Jaime as she had Renly. Of course, she also
recognized the depth of her feelings for Jaime far surpassed the youthful love she once felt for
Renly.

Having already died once, Brienne did not wish to face death or see Jaime face death without
admitting to the truth of it. Standing before Jaime now, Brienne was reminded once more of how
death would have been more favorable to Jaime than living with her. She was reminded of the
hateful deeds that Jaime was willing to commit for others.

“Brienne, I’m sorry that I hurt you by leaving the way that I did. I wanted to stay more than you
know. I admitted to all those horrible deeds I’ve committed to prevent you from following me to
death. Do you remember all of it? The entire conversation in the courtyard?”

Shaking her head in refute, Brienne looked to the floor. Jaime’s hand grabbed hers and pulled her
down the hallway. “Let me explain, but not in the middle of a corridor.”

Do I even want to hear this? I would much rather go to bed and consider this all a terrible dream.

Abruptly, Jaime stopped his progress towards the rooms. His face fell slightly as he struggled with
something. “I uh… I don’t want anyone to think that I’m being dishonorable. Mayhap we should
go outside.”

Yes, of course. Because I’m just the Kingslayer’s Whore. Why else would he drag me into a room
alone?

Pulling her hand from his, Brienne laced her fingers together and nodded. “I can walk. I know the
way outside.”

A wordless apology flashed across Jaime’s face as they walked towards the gardens. When they
stepped outside, Brienne appraised the area. It was a cloudless night and she could see all the stars.
Flickering torchlight lined the path towards seating at the edge of the gardens.

Brienne and Jaime walked in silence towards the first bench. Given the hour, there was no one else
outside, but it mattered little to Brienne. Whether with one person or one hundred, she always felt
alone. Unloved and unseen.

For Cersei. She’s hateful and so am I.

Brienne didn’t want, nor need, to remember anything else from that conversation. That summed up
the feeling in her heart when the memory flickered like a spark trying to catch.

When they reached the bench, Jaime waited for Brienne to sit before taking a seat beside her. She
glanced down the garden path. In the distance, the faintest torchlight shone near the port. The
thought of the port reminded Brienne of her journey to King’s Landing.

She had been nervous the entire way. It was not a planned speech that she delivered to Jaime on the
docks, but one that she was glad to get out of the way immediately. Now as he sat pressed against
her left side, Brienne took a deep breath and tried to remind herself to be open to whatever he had
to say.

“I sat at that fire in our… your room… for longer than I should have the night I left. After you fell
asleep, I didn’t want to go. I was too much of a coward to tell you the truth of my feelings for you,
but I also knew it would do no good. If I was honest, you likely would have followed me. The only
way to ensure you didn’t was to break your heart, but I didn’t have the courage to do that either.”

Brienne could feel Jaime staring at her. Refusing to meet his eyes, she looked resolutely ahead and
listened.

“I left in the middle of the night to avoid it all, but of course, you followed. You were a light
sleeper in the Riverlands too. I suppose that much has never changed.”
Jaime huffed a laugh and from the corner of her eye, Brienne could see him smile.

He thinks it’s my nature. Little does he realize it was a necessity born out of the hard truths of what
I am. Of my situation.

“I wasn’t always a light sleeper. I had to become one to survive and avoid rape.”

The words succeeded in removing Jaime’s teasing eyes from her face. After a moment’s pause,
Jaime continued.

“The first thing you said to me was ‘They’re going to burn that city to the ground.’ I don’t know
what I was expecting really, but it wasn’t that. I suppose I thought you would berate me for being
such a shit person that I couldn’t even say goodbye. That I would leave you dishonored and alone.
Instead, you spoke about the state of the city and my bloody safety.”

Brienne didn’t recall saying the words, but she wasn’t surprised. She would have wanted Jaime to
live, even if it meant away from her. Her love could never be selfish or conditional. When she
loved someone, it was with all of her; even at a detriment to her.

“I asked you if you had ever run from a fight. I slipped a bit. I didn’t intend to tell you that I was
joining the fight against the enemy; against Cersei. Fortunately, I didn’t specify the enemy. You
seemed to think the opposite though. You assumed that I was going back to her. You said, ‘You’re
not like her. You’re not. You’re a good man.’ It hurt to hear your assumption about my intent,
but… I let you think it. Then I fed the lie by reciting all the shit that I’ve done for Cersei. I hated
myself for it, but I thought it would ensure your safety. My intent was to kill her and, if possible,
return to you. In truth, I knew it was unlikely that I would survive.”

Jaime rubbed his face aggressively in obvious frustration.

“It’s true though. I had done horrible things for Cersei. I was hateful, just like her. I didn’t want to
be hateful anymore, however. You reminded me of who I thought I was once. Of who I wanted to
be. The boy who saved King’s Landing from wildfire wasn’t hateful. I wanted to be him again. I
told you some hateful things that I did do for Cersei, but I didn’t tell you the things that I did for
you.”

Feeling daring, Brienne glanced at Jaime. His eyes mirrored the words he spoke.

“I told you that I pushed a boy from a window for Cersei, but I also rode alone into an enemy
encampment to defend that boy, his family, and his home from death itself, for you. I told you that
I killed my own cousin to get back to Cersei, but I also jumped into a bear pit to get back to you. I
lied and told you that I would have killed every man, woman, and child at Riverrun for Cersei, but
instead I defied the crown and took the castle peacefully for you. Had I not met you, I likely would
have died a man that I am not nor that I wanted to be; a hateful man. It doesn’t excuse the hurt that
I caused you. That is the only hateful thing that I’ve done since falling in love with you.”

It felt as though Brienne had swallowed a rock. Her throat constricted and her breath was taken
away. As his left hand came to her cheek, Brienne felt Jaime’s thumb caress her skin. He leaned in
slowly and pressed a gentle kiss to Brienne’s lips.

The contact sent Brienne spiraling. As if on instinct, her hands cupped his cheeks in return which
only served to encourage Jaime. He shifted closer as his right arm moved across the back of the
bench and around her shoulders. The kiss deepened, and Brienne felt Jaime’s tongue moving gently
against her lips.
It was a familiar sensation that prompted Brienne’s lips to part. Everything about the kiss felt
natural and acquainted. Brienne imagined it would be no different if she had gone years without a
sword in hand. When she next picked up a blade, her body would simply know what to do.

As Brienne returned the kiss, the atmosphere shifted. Jaime’s hand lowered to her side and his
thumb continued to rub against her body, just below her breast. Abruptly, Jaime broke the kiss and
grimaced as he adjusted his breeches.

“Seven hells. Your father warned me to behave or I’ll join the ranks of the Unsullied.”

“Who are the Unsullied?” As Brienne spoke, her eyes struggled to look at anything other than
Jaime’s lips. She wished for nothing more than to return to kissing rather than speaking of these
unknown Unsullied.

Pulling back slightly to meet her eyes, a smirk tugged at Jaime’s lips. “We fought with them at
Winterfell. An army of eunuch men from across the Narrow Sea. Vicious fighters. I suppose I
would be angry too…”

Brienne’s eyes went wide. “That’s awful! Those poor men.”

“Yes, well I would rather that doesn’t become poor me.” Jaime’s lips trailed kisses across
Brienne’s jaw and to her ear.

Memories of the night she awoke to Jaime inside her came to the forefront of Brienne’s mind. An
inexplicable ache for him pooled in her core as her eyes darted to the bulge in his breeches.

A blush spread across Brienne’s cheeks as she quickly looked away. Brienne reprimanded herself
for her wanton thoughts and behavior. She began to question if the moniker the men bestowed
upon her wasn’t of her own making.

Trying to change the topic, Brienne shifted back and cleared her throat. “You’re not going to
follow through on Tormund’s ridiculous plans, are you?”

Jaime’s brows furrowed slightly. With a deep sigh, he looked away. “I hate those men. They killed
you, and I want them to suffer. Just as I love you deeply, I can hate deeply.”

Brienne closed her eyes and exhaled. “I don’t want hateful acts committed in my name.”

“They beat you and strung you up for all to see. They put a sign around your neck to declare you…
I’m certain you can imagine. We cut your body down from a tree, Brienne. I’ll never forget the
image of you swaying in the breeze, nor the feeling of your cold, lifeless body in my arms. I want
to make them suffer for what they did to you.”

With a grimace, Brienne looked to her hands. “Is death truly not enough? I thought you no longer
wished to do hateful things?”

“Death is not enough for those men, Brienne. And yes, I don’t wish to do hateful things, but killing
those men is not hateful. A hateful act is pushing an innocent boy from a window or smashing my
innocent cousin over the head with a rock. A hateful act is threatening to catapult innocents into a
castle wall. Punishing a hateful act with death it not hateful. It is justice. You know the knight’s
code, Brienne. I charged you to be just.”

Jaime’s eyes were resolute as he spoke, but then they softened as he looked deep into Brienne’s
eyes. “But… I will recuse myself as Jon is. He doesn’t feel it appropriate to participate in Sansa’s
trial. I suppose it isn’t appropriate for me to participate either. I swear though Brienne, if any of
them are foolish enough to ask for a trial by combat, I will fight them myself. I will not make it
quick.”

Looking into Jaime’s eyes, Brienne saw immense pain there. She struggled to accept that her death
could elicit such strong emotional reaction from anyone. With a nod, she agreed.

“You’re not hateful. You’re a good man. I don’t want wish for more hateful deeds hanging over
you that you’ll later come to regret, just as you regret the actions committed for Cersei.”

A momentary silence settled over them before Brienne felt Jaime’s hand at her cheek once more.
“I’ll never regret any action for you. The love that I feel for you is pure and true; not toxic and
hateful as what I felt for Cersei. You keep saying that I’m not hateful and that I’m a good man,
though. Why?”

Brienne startled slightly. Her brows knitted as her eyes questioned Jaime. “What do you mean?”

“You’re so adamant about it. Even when you remembered everything about me, you built up this
image of me that I was a good man because I did one decent thing for King’s Landing.”

Shaking her head in refute, Brienne stammered. “It’s not just that. You lost a hand protecting me,
your captor, when you had no reason to. You jumped into a bear pit for me. You gave me my
sword to find and protect Sansa because you swore an oath to her mother; your enemy. You just
told me that you took Riverrun peacefully when you were told to use force. You kept your pledge
to fight for the living. Hateful people wouldn’t do those things. You’re a good man, even if you’ve
erred along the way.”

A smile tugged at Jaime’s lips as he questioned her. “So it’s fairly subjective then? Other people
might think me hateful, either because they don’t know me as well as you, or they judge my worst
sins irredeemable.”

Brienne considered the words. Conceding the point, she nodded. “I suppose that makes sense.”

Raise a challenging brow, Jaime stared into Brienne’s eyes. “So if I insisted that I was hateful, you
wouldn’t believe me?”

“Of course not! Just as I told you that night, you’re a good man whether you see it or not.”

The hint of a smile tugging at Jamie’s lips stretched wide. “Well it’s settled then. If being hateful is
subjective, so is being lovable. I know you quite well. I know of your greatest deeds. Your loyalty,
honor, and resolve. I’ve loved you for many years. To me, you are only lovable. You can tell me
you’re not lovable all you want, but I see the truth. I know that you are.”
 Appointments and Trials
Chapter Summary

The day of Sansa's trial arrives. She is in for a few surprises.

Sansa

Sansa was dragged from the cells by two burly guards she didn’t recognize. As they stepped into
the dimly lit hallway, her eyes fell on Bronn. She remembered the sellsword in Tyrion’s employ
from many years ago in King’s Landing.

It was the same sellsword who trailed an enraged Jaime into the dragonpit over a moon turn ago.
The man’s expression was deadly as his eyes met hers. “Time for ya judgement, princess.”

As she was tugged around a corner, Sansa’s eyes went wide at the sight of the Bolton soldiers
standing in a line before her. Each was flanked by a Gold Cloak at each side.

When Brienne had visited Sansa’s cell a moon turn ago, Sansa took a gamble. She gambled on
Brienne’s inability to remember. It surprised Sansa at first to realize that Brienne had lost all her
memories. Then she remembered a conversation with Bran not long ago.

Jon had behaved strangely since his death at the hands of his sworn brothers. He seemed
unmotivated and despondent. When Bran returned to Winterfell, Sansa spoke in private about Jon’s
behavior and attitude.

“Jon seems… off. He doesn’t seem to want for anything, and he is even more morose than usual.”

Bran had looked at Sansa appraisingly. It was as though his eyes could see to the depths of her
soul. Whatever her little brother had become, it unnerved Sansa. He felt less her kin and more a
stranger.

“Death changed him in a way. When people are raised by red priests or priestesses, it can alter
them. They can forget themselves entirely, or they can long only for the last thing that came to
mind before the Stranger’s hands touched them.”

Sansa’s brows had furrowed at the words. “Will he ever be the same again? When people come
back, can they regain their memories, or want for anything other than that last thought?”

With a sigh, Bran shook his head in refute. “I’ve yet to see such a thing and I’ve searched for quite
some time. Trust me. We need Jon to become the man he was before.”

It all came crashing to the forefront of Sansa’s mind when Brienne came to her cell. A way out.
She gambled that her pathetic, former sworn sword would follow through on her word to get Sansa
out. It was all that she remembered, so surely it was all that Brienne longed for.

She likely died regretting having betrayed me. That is why she visited. That is why she only
remembers me.

Lying was never something that Brienne was capable of nor good at. Her eyes were honest, even if
she lacked the wit to understand her own betrayal. Brienne was also someone who believed in
honor and oaths above all things. It was another thing that Sansa planned to use against her.

As they were led up several levels of the Keep and towards the throne room, Sansa’s eyes
struggled to adjust to the increasing light. She had been well-fed in the cells, but the area was dark
and damp. The cot they brought her was uncomfortable to rest on while chained to a wall, and the
scurrying of mice was hardly acceptable.

They’ve all betrayed me. Even my own kin. They left me to rot in such filthy accommodations. I
should have been afforded a confinement befitting my station.

Sansa had not sat idle in the cell. Using the information gained of Brienne’s limited memory, Sansa
devised a plan. She knew this day would come and they were merely waiting to have her trial when
Brienne’s killers were brought to the city.

She promised to protect me always, but she betrayed me for the Kingslayer. Fool that she was.
Look at the good it did her. These men killed her because of him, not me. I didn’t order this.

The guards spoke of the looming trial often, and they seemed excited for justice to be served. Their
enthusiasm disgusted Sansa. She failed to see how anything about the situation was just.

I protected my House and ensured our enemies were vanquished. They seek to support my traitor
of a sworn sword and her lying Kingslayer. I can’t wait to see her face when she stands alone in
the throne room. By this point, it’s likely the Kingslayer has a proper lady on his arm, if not his
sister’s rotting carcass. Let Brienne see that she has abandoned me for his pretty lies and false
smiles.

They were soon lined up outside the throne room and awaited instruction to enter. When the doors
opened and Sansa was tugged inside, she was shocked at how crowded the hall was.

Gods. This is more densely packed than a coronation. Is something else happening today? Surely
they don’t care about some whorish traitor of a woman and the Kingslayer.

At the front of the room, Jon sat on the throne with Jaime standing tall at his side. They were both
well-dressed, freshly bathed, and regal looking. Sansa had never seen Jon looking so kempt.

The Kingslayer was obnoxiously handsome as ever, and Sansa hated him for it. He appeared
freshly shaven with shorter hair than he had at Winterfell. It still seemed absurd to Sansa that a
man such as him was able to bed a woman like Brienne. Then Sansa’s eyes went wide.

Why is the Kingslayer wearing the pin of the Hand!?

Walking down the aisle, Sansa scanned the room. Nearly all assembled were soldiers that had
fought against the dead. There was a large group she didn’t recognize, but she knew the sigil on
their chests. Tarth.

As they neared the front of the room, several of the men to stand trial shuddered in fear and
stumbled backwards. The man in front of Sansa stepped on her foot which elicited a loud yelp from
her mouth. They whispered between themselves as their eyes stared to the left.

“Fuckin’ hells. Thought we killed the bitch.” “What the fuck is she doin’ here?”

After reprimanding the dolt in front of her, Sansa looked to the left. Sitting on a small platform to
the left of the throne, Brienne and her father sat quietly looking on. Selwyn sat at his daughter’s
righthand side; his eyes angrily appraised the group of chained prisoners.
The guards pulled them all forward to the first row on the left-hand side of the hall. It afforded
them an unobstructed view of the Tarths, who sat above them as though royalty.

Absurd. She could never be above me. I should be seated up there. No. I should have a crown on
my head and sit in the North; not down here in this shit city in chains.

With the prisoners in place, Jon stood from the throne and assessed the group before addressing the
hall.

“I welcome you all here today. I lament that we could not admit everyone into the throne room
seeking view. We knew that Ser Brienne was popular, but we had not anticipated just how
popular.”

A smile stretched across Jon’s face as he paused to glance at Brienne. Much of the hall clapped or
whistled as shouts of “Ser Brienne!” filled the throne room. Dueling shades of red spread across
the faces of Brienne and Sansa; one in embarrassment and the other in rage.

The obnoxiously soft look on the Kingslayer’s face did not go unnoticed by Sansa. When Brienne
met his eyes, the Kingslayer’s expression shifted. He stared openly at Brienne as though no one
else was in the room.

Gods. He continues the game even still. How desperate is he to see to House Stark’s demise?

Sansa muttered under her breath before studying her sworn sword once more. Just as she appeared
in the cells, Brienne was less confident and commanding than usual. It was as though a part of her
had remained dead when the Bolton soldiers took her life.

Let that be her punishment. A realization for what she truly is; a disloyal whore. The Kingslayer’s
Whore. She did this to herself. Now she is a shell of what she once was.

As the thought came into her head, a small part of Sansa cried out from within.

She was your friend. Your savior.

Stuffing the thought down, Sansa shook her head and inwardly cursed herself for allowing such
weak thoughts to enter her mind. It was the vestiges of the innocent maiden within. The girl
tortured by Joffrey and Cersei. Betrayed by Littlefinger. Devoured by Ramsay. The little bird who
still wanted to believe in fairytales.

Fool that I was. She betrayed you for a Lannister. For him. Cersei’s twin and lover.

As the crowd quieted, Jon continued. “Today we are to hold trial for the injustice committed
against Ser Brienne. Let me start by making some things very clear to all assembled. Before I
became king of the Seven Kingdoms, I was king in the North, and I erred greatly. Were it not for
Ser Brienne, Winterfell would have remained in House Bolton’s hands. I fear that without House
Stark’s leadership against the dead, the living would have lost. None of us would be standing here
today had Ser Brienne not saved my cousin, Sansa Stark. I certainly would not have led a battle to
reclaim Winterfell. Somehow, despite Ser Brienne’s efforts, I did not knight her. It took a falsely
judged man that we in the North thought an enemy, to take action where I failed.”

Looking back at Brienne, Jon smiled before continuing. “These men who are to stand trial, tried to
question her title as a knight. They acted as though it had not been earned. How many among you
would agree?”

The hall remained silent as Sansa bit back a laugh.

He can’t be serious. This must be a jape or purely out of pity.

Glancing behind her, Sansa saw the stern expressions on the faces of those assembled. Turning
back towards Jon, Sansa saw him nod to Jaime. Without a word, Jaime moved to the base of the
stairs and reached out a hand towards one of the Kingsguard. The knight handed the Kingslayer a
large, white book, and Jaime returned to Jon with it.

Jon took the book and held it above his head. “I think we all know of the White Book; the Book of
Brothers. It is the job of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to fill out these pages, detailing
the deeds of the Kingsguard. Unfortunately, my Kingsguard currently lacks a Lord Commander.
Luckily, my Lord Hand was the last active Lord Commander, serving King Tommen Baratheon.
We made an exception, and at Ser Jaime’s request, he has added an entry for someone who
recently accepted a position on the Kinsguard.”

Jon opened the book and flipped to a bookmarked page. Taking a deep breath, he began to read the
entry.

“Ser Brienne of Tarth. Served Lord Renly Baratheon honorably during the War of the Five Kings.
Competed in and won the melee of Bitterbridge to earn a place on Lord Renly’s Rainbow Guard.
Became the sworn sword of Lady Catelyn Stark. Tasked with returning Ser Jaime Lannister to
King’s Landing in a prisoner exchange for Lady Arya Stark and Sansa Stark. Upon the safe return
of Ser Jaime to King’s Landing, she was dispatched to find the missing Stark sisters and return
them home to fulfil the oath made to Lady Catelyn Stark. Confronted and defeated the Hound,
Sandor Clegane, in single combat during her effort to return Lady Arya Stark to Winterfell. Found
and saved Sansa Stark from her torture at the hands of House Bolton; thereby ensuring House Stark
was able to reclaim Winterfell and the North. Acted as representative for the North at the summit
in King’s Landing to unify the living in defense against the dead. Knighted by Ser Jaime Lannister
on the eve of battle, making her the first female knight in the Seven Kingdoms. Led the left flank
bravely in battle against the army of the dead.”

Sansa stood slack jawed. Her eyes moved from Jon to Brienne. Brienne’s face was impossibly
redder as she sat in disbelief beside her father. Both Selwyn and the Kingslayer appeared poised to
explode with pride as they looked upon her.

Jon’s voice brought Sansa’s attention back to him. “There is one entry that I’ve asked Ser Jaime to
add, if Ser Brienne does me the honor. I would prefer that the page include, ‘Named the first Lady
Commander of the Kingsguard under King Aegon Targaryen, known as King Jon, in 305AC.’ She
has yet to give me an answer, but she did accept a role on the Kingsguard. I do believe it would be
the best decision that I’ve made yet if she agrees. What say you?”

Somehow the cheers that followed were impossibly louder than before. It felt as though the walls
and ceiling may cave in as Sansa felt the shouts of those assembled vibrate in her chest. Jon’s eyes
moved to Brienne and he shrugged in question.

With a nearly imperceptible nod, Brienne accepted the position. Jon waved her over eagerly as the
excitement in the room became palpable. When Brienne reached Jon, she gripped the hilt of her
sword nervously; a tell that Sansa had come to recognize over the years.

Jon called for quiet as Jaime stepped forward with a wide smile on his face. A whispered exchange
between Jaime and Brienne preceded Jaime’s words to both Brienne and those assembled.

“Ser Brienne Tarth of King Aegon Targaryen’s Kingsguard, please kneel.”

Brienne kneeled before Jon as Jaime spoke loudly.

“Dow you vow to serve loyally and honorably as Lady Commander of King Aegon Targaryen’s
Kingsguard for as long as you chose, and so long as nothing is asked of you that my compromise
your honor and oaths as a knight?”

What? This is new. Did they change the vows? I remember the Kingslayer being named Lord
Commander after Ser Barristan and those are not the words.

“I swear it.” Brienne’s voice replied shakily to Jaime’s question before he continued. The words
then sounded more familiar to Sansa, but still adjusted.

“Do you vow to protect the king from harm? To obey his commands, keep his secrets, offer him
counsel, and to defend his name and honor; so long as the actions requested do not betray your
duties first as a knight?”

“I swear it.” Brienne’s voice was stronger the second time as she looked at Jon.

Jon smiled warmly and nodded to her. The last vow was certainly one that Sansa did not recognize,
and she was shocked by it.

“Do you vow to oversee your sworn brothers. To protect them, any wives or husbands they may
take, and any children they may bear, to the best of your ability as long as it does not conflict with
protecting the king first and foremost?”

“I swear it.” Brienne’s voice sounded more confident; like the woman who served Sansa at
Winterfell.

Signaling to Brienne that she could rise, Jaime smiled widely as he stared longingly at Brienne. As
she rose, the crowd erupted once more. Sansa watched Jon approached Brienne; speaking in
hushed tones as a smile stretched across his face.

A slight mist touched Sansa’s eyes at the scene playing out before her. The small voice inside
Sansa called out in admiration of the woman who once meant so much to her, but was now little
more than a stranger. Sansa’s lips pressed into a thin line as she closed her eyes and tilted her head
towards the floor.

Stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it! Weak. Pathetic. Just like Brienne. It should have been you she swore
such vows to. You should be queen in the North. Jon will fail at this as he has failed elsewhere. His
own brothers at the Wall killed him just as Brienne’s fellow soldiers killed her. They will fail
together. The Kingslayer is likely to be their demise.

Opening her eyes with new resolve writ across her face, Sansa watched as Brienne walked back to
her seat. Selwyn pulled her into a firm hug, and Sansa nearly broke once more. It reminded her of
the father she lost.

My father. The man House Lannister killed. She sides with my enemy and has her father because of
it. They stole mine from me.

Jon’s voice echoed off the walls of the throne room as Brienne sat down. “I, Jon, king of the Seven
Kingdoms and protector of the realm, do hereby recuse myself from the trial about to take place.
My Lord Hand will oversee the proceedings. Any decisions or rulings that he makes or affords to
another will be backed by the crown.”

Without another word, Jon walked down the steps. His eyes quickly darted to Sansa, but he turned
and left the side exit of the hall before Sansa could read his expression.
Jaime stood atop the stairs while attendants placed chairs to the left and right of the throne.

At the realization that her trial would be overseen by the Kingslayer, Sansa felt a deep dread pool
in her core.

“To ensure a fair trial, I recuse myself, but will pass down judgement as decided upon by a more
impartial jury. I will serve as the crown’s champion should any of our prisoners prefer a trial by
combat. In my stead, Northern justice will be dispensed to Northern prisoners.”

A knowing smile tugged at Jaime’s lips as he looked to his right. Emerging from a pillar at the
balcony, Arya came into view. A ray of hope flashed in Sansa’s heart as her sister stepped
forward. Jaime’s voice drew Sansa’s attention forward.

“Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell will officiate the trial. To aid her deliberation, we have called upon
three jurors from three different kingdoms. Lord Selwyn Tarth, Lord of Tarth and liege Lord of the
Stormlands…”

At Jaime’s words, Sansa’s eyes went wide.

No. That’s not fair! That is not impartial!

“…Ser Podrick of House Payne; vassal to the West…”

Are you kidding me!?

“…and Tormund Giantsbane of House Giant’s Milk or something like that; constituent from the far
North…”

“The true North! Southern fucks.” Tormund grumbled and stormed forward from the crowd with a
vicious smirk on his face. The men gathered around the hall chuckled lightly at the exchange
between their Lord Hand and the Wildling leader.”

This is not fair! They’ll slaughter us all!

Sansa watched in horror as the four summoned to the raised dais took their seats. Sitting on the
throne, Arya smiled like a cat who caught a mouse. The Kingslayer nodded at Arya before walking
to take Selwyn’s vacated seat beside Brienne. When he sat down, his hand reached for Brienne’s
as he mooned over her from barely a foot away. Hate pooled in her core at the sight. It was time for
Sansa’s plan.

“I demand a trial by combat!” The words were out of Sansa’s mouth before the trial could begin.

At her words, gasps erupted around the hall. An amused smile tugged at Arya’s lips, but the
expression of excited potential flashing across the Kingslayer’s face did not go unnoticed.

Arya tilted her head at Sansa’s outburst. “Perhaps you would prefer to hear your accused crimes
before calling for such a trial. You do realize that the crown’s champion would be our Lord Hand,
Ser Jaime, correct?”

“And I would name my champion, of course. My sworn sword… Ser Brienne. She was sworn to
protect me. An oath she made to my mother. Sacred vows she swore to me. A promise she made
me a moon turn ago.”

Sansa raised a brow at Brienne who sat slack jawed next to Jaime. For his part, the Kingslayer’s
face went from excited to irate.
Yes, that’s correct. I’ll make you attempt to kill the woman you pretend at loving. Of course, you’ll
lose. She already beat you once on a bridge. This is working out too perfectly. I’ll live. The
Kingslayer will die. Brienne will receive her newest form of punishment.

Jaime desperately tried to speak in hushed tones to Brienne, but the female knight put up a hand to
silence him. At the action, Sansa felt victory begin to course through her veins, as she lifted her
chin towards the Kingslayer and his whore.

Brienne stood and swallowed thickly before meeting Sansa’s eyes. Tilting her head up slightly,
Sansa’s brows knitted as she saw something spark in Brienne’s innocent eyes.

“You have the right of it. I swore vows as your sworn sword. I vowed to shield your back, and keep
your counsel, and give my life for yours if need be. I swore it by the old gods and the new.”

Sansa smirked as she watched Jaime look on in horror. To their side, Selwyn flinched in his seat
and began to stand, but Brienne spoke once more.

“And you vowed that I shall always have a place by your hearth, and meat and mead at your table.
You pledged to ask no service of me that may bring me dishonor. You swore it by the old gods and
the new.”

Speaking more confidently than before, Brienne tilted up her chin; a surprising resolve in her eyes.

“You cast me away from your heath, and you refused me food from your table to ensure my safe
travels. You deprived me supplies for the journey south and offered only tea. I do believe that I’ve
already given my life for yours; it was given while following your commands, despite being
grossly unprepared to carry out the orders. By asking me to champion you, you would bring me
dishonor. It would dishonor the life lost to defend you in trial by combat. I am very sorry, Sansa
Stark, but I cannot be your champion.”

A slow forming smile stretched across Jaime’s face at the words and Selwyn exhaled audibly as he
sagged into his chair. Pod, Tormund, and Arya smirked as Sansa felt herself falling into a pit from
which she could not escape.

Arya’s voice called out to Sansa once more. “I’ll ask you again, Sansa Stark. Would you like to
hear the crimes for which you stand accused before decide if you prefer a trial by combat?”

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