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“Ser Jaime has chosen to remain here as a guest of the Lady of Winterfell.”
Brienne couldn’t help but feel Sansa’s probing gaze on her as Tyrion announced the plan to the gathered War Council. She met her charge’s eyes briefly, surprised to see they had some warmth in them. Tyrion had no doubt made the announcement for the sake of The Dragon Queen and the Dornish envoy. Amity was more easily achieved when the Night King threatened to decimate the world with death, but now the threat was gone, political tensions resumed. Jaime’s allegiance was uncertain, his word still not trusted despite his bravery. In any event, The Dragon Queen made no comment, only kept her eyes fixed to the battle tactic board before them. So much about the future was uncertain, so for now, keeping The Kingslayer in the North far away from King's Landing and out of their way was good enough.
When Brienne had asked Sansa if Jaime could stay in the North under her protection two days before, she couldn’t ignore how her charge’s eyes had darkened, her beautiful face hardening in a purposefully undisguised pinch. Brienne could almost have laughed at Sansa’s warnings to be cautious – that she respected Brienne and would hate to see her lose herself completely to a man so morally questionable. Brienne listened in her usual polite reverence, assuring Sansa that she was too strong-minded to abandon her duty for love. She thanked Sansa for her trust in her. She could feel tears glisten her eyes once again, Sansa’s declaration of faith never failing to touch her heart – but she’d hoped she wouldn’t forget that it was Jaime too who had saved her life. Jaime had kept his part of the Oath and Sansa now held Winterfell and the North's complete loyalty. When Sansa nodded her permission, Brienne bowed in relief. Jaime would be protected, for now, and have a safe place to gather his thoughts and plan the next steps on his path.
In truth Brienne had never expected to get this far. She’d cynically thought Jaime would ride back to King's Landing - back to his sister’s side - as soon as he’d recovered from his injuries, despite his pledges to the contrary. “Words are wind.” Lady Catelyn had said to her once, a lesson as unforgotten as all the others the dear woman had passed on.
Brienne was always preparing for the worst, learning through bitter experience to keep her ambitions high and her expectations low. Yet with a sword, she was always in the moment. No thoughts bogged her down, cynical or otherwise. All that was left was the thrill of the fight – the fire in her bones and the lightning crackling in her powerful hands as she dealt down her blows and fought for justice and honour – for the innocent and weak. Jaime was a kindred spirit to her in this way and many others, so when he’d spent the entire fight against the dead glued to her side – her comrade, ally and protector – there were no words to define it. No room for questioning. No time for doubts. They were simply two people in love with one another, fighting tooth and nail for the greater good. Ready to die with honour for the living.
When Jaime had Knighted her before said battle began, bestowing a gift more valuable than all he had given her before, Brienne had dared to truly believe that the love for him she’d carried with her for years passed wasn’t unrequited. She was about to face unknown horrors beyond reckoning, yet she felt no fear. She let her battle bravery seep into her ever unsure heart as well and opened herself up to him in overwhelming gratitude. He’d gazed back at her in awe, the rousing claps of their audience only gradually becoming apparent in the haze of their shared moment.
Jaime had believed in her long before she had a chance to truly prove herself and exert her place as a Stark Sworn Sword. He had chosen Brienne to be the vessel for the honour he’d hoped to gain, when he was in a place of power and influence. Brienne had already loved him in those early days, when he gave her Oathkeeper, a fact obvious to all who looked on her, she was sure - but much like her hopeless love for Renly, she buried it, kept it with her as hers alone, as she knew it could ever be. Jaime’s heart belonged to another, a fact that might have been less bitter were it not his own twin sister who held the honour, but it was reality. “We don’t get to choose who we love.” A friendship was practical and real – an undeniable product of all they’d shared between them. Brienne nurtured it in her heart, even if she’d never see Jaime again. In moments of weakness, hopelessness and doubt, the memory of his earnest gaze and the first cold touch of Oathkeeper’s hilt kept her going. As antagonistic and prickly as it was, it was the greatest friendship Brienne had ever known. Jaime trusted her, and she trusted him. That was enough. It had to be.
Yet in that hearth lit hall of polished stone, this man – this beautiful, brave, honourable and complicated man – had declared his belief in her publicly – not only to the gathered audience of well-wishers they were amongst, but to the word of History. His story would always be part of hers, and should there be a song sung about her, it would be a song of him, too.
There was nothing left for Brienne to do but beam out her elation.
There would be no more holding back. From that point on, all walls were down. They would revel in their shared, open intimacy and surrender themselves to a connection now solidified. Talking with him would be as easy a breathing and she could truly be herself without fear of rejection or ridicule – she would only be met with fond looks and a knowing heart. This knowledge overwhelmed her.
The inevitable consummation of their love was a blur of passion. The heat they’d always shared and jointly denied erupted after Jaime’s endearingly green attempt at seduction.
“What are you doing?” she quietly asked, knowing full well, as Jaime’s hand reached for the laces of her shirt.
“Taking your shirt off.” he replied, voice heavy with desire.
Their actions lead the way, as always. Words only ghosted their intensions. Brienne hadn’t given much thought to losing her maidenhead, resolving that it would probably never happen. In the event, she’d given it willingly and was only shocked at her confidence in doing so afterwards. Much like swordplay, she made love in the moment. All thoughts left her, and him as well, she knew. They lost themselves in each other, Jaime giving her such pleasure she’d never even dreamed to experience. Although swordplay didn’t make her feel as good as making love, they were still on a par. Jaime for his part might have lost his sword hand, but he was still a warrior in his heart even if the loss had tempered him with more caution and reasoning. Wrapped with Brienne in the winter furs of their bed, he was all fire once again, his eyes blazing with life, lust and adoration. He was truly hers, and she was his. She couldn’t believe it, and yet she could, all at once. Such was the confidence she’d painfully gained through time and determination.
When she woke the next morning she’d turned to find Jaime watching her, any dim fear of regret quashed at the sight of his warm, bleary smile. Brienne returned it without hesitation and Jaime wrapped her in his strong embrace to kiss her. In his arms she was a woman, a beauty and a Knight. A man she once despised and misunderstood now loved her for all that she was, as she loved him for all she knew of him and all she was yet to know. She wasn’t blind to any part of him. She loved him with eyes wide open.
The girls Brienne knew in her youth all dreamed of Ser Jaime Lannister, his beauty and prowess legendary in their burgeoning world. Young girls cared less for the sin that gave him his scathing monikers than their Fathers may have – they only cared for his title, riches, strength and good looks. Brienne dreamt only of Renly, of course, and continued to be relatively oblivious to the giggling chatter of her forced friends. A mercy she considered that, on reflection. Perhaps Jaime wouldn’t have respected her if she’d met him already besotted with a fanciful illusion.
The masses at large may not have known of his true heart, but she did, and he only cared what she thought. That was obvious, for it was only her he’d divulged his long held secrets to. Secrets and sins alike – she knew everything. He held nothing back. Each confession made her love him more, because she knew that despite the darkness of his past, he’d broken free. Tyrion had commented that he seemed happier now than he’d ever known him. He smiled brightly and easily – laughed more readily. He was learning to be himself – no façade, no bluster, no longer in need to prove himself with mad bravado in a hopeless bid to be loved as he deserved. He was free to be the man he’d always wanted to be and to be loved unconditionally and completely. He could love Brienne openly and proudly, sitting beside her in the dining hall, walking with her in the slowly melting snow and sharing her bed at night.
Yet they could not forget who they were. Jaime was ill suited to a quiet existence and despite her pride at protecting Sansa, Brienne couldn’t abandon her heritage and her home forever. Her Father still ruled Tarth for now, but he was old, his halfhearted attempts to sire a male heir a failure. Brienne and Jaime avoided any conversation about the future, the way unclear for both of them. They instead talked about their past and their present. Jaime kept his plans to himself, but Brienne knew he had to be plotting something. She wanted nothing more than to stay at his side, but his sister and old lover ruling the Seven Kingdoms complicated things significantly.
“You know I cannot stay.” he’d said, when talk of the future could no longer be avoided.
They were sitting in their respective chairs by the fire in their chamber, gazing into the flames. She met his eyes sadly. The Dragon Queen had agreed to let the remaining soldiers recover before venturing South. Their forces were gathering strength and more were joining them after hearing of their victory against the White Walkers. Jaime had stayed for just over a month.
“I have played too great a part in all this to deserve continued sanctuary here. Besides, I have never run away from a fight.”
“What will you do?” Brienne asked after a few moments contemplation.
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. But I have to do something. The Stark girl won’t let me fight for her and I suspect the Mad King's daughter is just waiting for an excuse to execute me. Whatever is to be done, I must do it alone.”
Jaime could no more sit out this war than Brienne could. Sansa had asked Brienne if she would lead what was left of her soldiers in her stead. Brienne agreed without hesitation, glad to play her part in avenging the Starks in The Last War. Brienne told Jaime the plan in response, causing fear to ghost his features.
“I was hoping she’d have you stay here with her.” he confessed with a troubled sigh.
“- and I was hoping you’d stay here and not endanger yourself. But that’s not us.”
“The things Cersei has done to her enemies with the help of her cunt Hand goes beyond any cruelty either of us have known. If she were to capture you, knowing what you mean to me…”
“I fancy she’d be too preoccupied with the battle to worry about the presence of her brother’s lover. Besides, I’ll be holding the rear flank in an open field outside the city walls. She won't even know I’m there.”
“She'll know.” he stated, leaning over to take Brienne’s hand in his.
He kissed the back of her fingers, eyes full of pain. He met her gaze, squeezing her hand as he spoke.
“Just make sure you surround yourself with your troops. Don’t stray from the battle.”
“Jaime – I’m not some helpless girl who can just be carried off. I won’t let her get to me.”
His eyes glistened, his expression grim. He nodded once before slumping back in his chair.
“Would I the power to stop you. I doubt this will be the last time I’ll wish you were a helpless girl who I could lock away and keep from harm. But, we don’t get to choose who we love.”
They looked at each other again, smiling warmly through their grim resignation. Their shared dream was coming to an end. Tears filled Brienne’s eyes. She couldn’t help it, but she tried her best to swallow them back and savour these last moments with the love of her life.
They were to separate once more, uncertain of their fate, Jaime’s past and Brienne’s Oath an obstacle insurmountable for both of them.
Jaime stayed a few days further to prepare, Brienne giving him what supplies she could and what she hoped would be enough funds to see him through, all gathered covertly and exchanged in the privacy of their chamber. No doubt Jaime found it amusing at their reversal of roles. She could see it in his wry expression when she pressed the bag of coin into his hand.
“But where’s my magic sword, my lady?” he teased, smile widening at her withering look.
Brienne could have guessed Jaime planned to leave on the night he did by how fervently he fucked her. They bit and scratched at each other, scoring visible memories onto their hot, slick skin. She came three times before Jaime spent himself with a roar almost savage, only for him to rouse again moments later and take her once more with an urgency that made her loins ache long after he withdrew himself. She hoped the ache would stay with her, and to carry the marks he’d left on her flesh into battle.
They let sleep take them before his absence from their bed woke her. Neither of them were accustomed to sharing a bed, yet Brienne had become so used to Jaime beside her that she could instinctively sense his movements. She wondered if she’d have trouble sleeping without him.
She sat up to find Jaime dressed in his boiled leather, sitting in his chair staring into the fire. He turned to face her, a wordless message passing between them. Brienne stood and put on her robe, Jaime already moving to their storage boxes to retrieve his packed saddlebags. Brienne slipped on her boots and followed him into the courtyard. Jaime’s horse, Honour, was awaiting him – he must have brought her out earlier, she realised as he swung the saddlebags over her back.
Brienne looked around warily for watchful eyes, hoping nobody would stop them. All was quiet. She stood with her arms crossed, watching him for a time before resolving to help him with the remaining buckles. When all was ready, Brienne held his face in her hands, turning him towards her to kiss him deeply. Jaime wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace, Brienne savouring the taste of his mouth, the feel of his beard against her skin and his body against hers. When they regretfully parted, Jaime lifted his gloved hand to hold Brienne’s wrist, still caressing his cheek. Gently rubbing her hand with his thumb, he stared into her eyes.
“I hope, should we both survive this war and the fates turn in our favour, that I would have a place by your side. We’ve said goodbye too many times, and I want this to be the last.” he swallowed thickly, more sincere than Brienne had ever seen him.
She let her own tears fall, the pain of their parting more excruciating than she could have imagined. She nodded, running a hand through his growing hair.
“When all this is over and Westeros is once again at peace, we will never be parted again. I swear it by all the Gods.” Brienne whispered, knowing in her heart that she meant it.
He took fresh heart from this, the implication of her words not lost on him. A Knight driven only by Oaths was for the woman she was, before she tasted true love and knew no different. Jaime’s declaration meant he had spared some thought for the future, had let himself hope for a new start with her. Brienne would give him that, and anything else he would desire, just as long as he resolved to live.
“Be safe, my love.” he murmured, before kissing her again, Brienne sobbing into his mouth.
He tore himself away, mounting his horse quickly and riding into the night, leaving Brienne weeping violently in his wake. Never had she felt such pain.
When she could no longer hear Honour’s hooves, she sunk to her knees, clutching snow in her hands to anchor her there in her grief.
Silently, she cursed the war and the self-serving Evil that plagued the world. She cursed all the liars and sadistic brutes who still roamed the land she’d fought so hard to save. Most of all, she cursed Cersei. She cursed her for her greed, her hate and her poison. She cursed her for the many innocents who suffer under her selfish rule. She cursed her for her viciousness and insanity – and most of all, she cursed her for dominating Jaime’s heart, for manipulating him, using him and smashing his self esteem to nothing. She didn’t deserve him and never had, and once more she was the reason they were parted. No more. She’d taken up too much of Jaime’s life. Now he was finally becoming his own man and carving a destiny independent from her. She prayed with all her soul that he would succeed.
Once again she found herself glad she was chosen to fight Cersei in the name of the North, but her motivations for doing so had evolved into something else entirely. She turned her blue eyes to the stars, the moving clouds blurring in her vision, flashes of a future she could have entering her mind.
“I will fight in this last battle for you, Jaime. For us.” she vowed, alone in the cold night.