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She allows herself to cry for a few moments. She lets her heart break, mourns the girl inside of her who still hoped for love and a happy ending to her story. She cries for the good man who is running to his death, who is so twisted up inside that he cannot let himself live happily.
Then she straightens herself up, wipes away her tears and goes to find Lady Sansa and Pod.
Within two hours, there are two horses ready to leave. Podrick is waiting by one of them, a solemn look on his usually cheerful face. “Ser,” He says, confused, “What are we going to do when we catch him?” She gets up onto her horse and looks at her squire, always faithfully following her.
“If he chooses not to help us, you’ll bring him back to Winterfell in chains.” She says firmly, allowing none of her feelings to be released. “I am tasked with ending the rein of Queen Cersei if she chooses to not surrender.” Pod’s eyes widen, and after a moment of hesitation, nods once. He gets on his horse, and with a nod to each other, they pass through the gates of Winterfell.
They catch up to him later that night. He has foolishly made a fire, his golden hand glinting in the pale light. His eyes are red and there are still tears on his cheeks. She refuses to allow herself to feel empathy towards him. Her heart is wailing. She allows herself to go away inside, just a bit, just to find out his intentions. She dismounts and stands in front of him, her face a mask.
“Why are you going to King’s Landing?” She asks him, her hand on the pommel of Oathkeeper. She hopes he does not notice it shaking. His green eyes meet hers.
“To save Cersei.” He says. His eyes flicker to the side. She squints at him, evaluating him, the says confidently, “You’re lying.” He raises his eyebrow and a cruel smirk appears on his face, but she sees the brief flare of panic that he tries to hide.
“Am I? And how would you know that?” He asks her in a mocking tone. She can sense Pod stiffening behind her and holds her hand up to stop him from doing anything foolish. He stills. She keeps her eyes on the man in front of her. “Because I know you, Ser Jaime.” She replies softly.
His face crumbles and he sags against a tree. “Yes,” He admits hoarsely, “You are right, Ser Brienne. I am going to King’s Landing to stop this war once and for all. I am a Kingslayer, and now I will become a Queenslayer. I didn’t want you to follow me. It will be dangerous.” She nods. It was a suspicion in the back of her mind, but she didn’t allow herself to think about it fully. She does not enjoy false hopes. But her hope has never been misplaced in Ser Jaime.
“Hobble the horses.” She tells Pod, who immediately goes to do as she asked. Her lips quirk upwards as she watches him. Jaime also watches, but his expression is a tortured thing.
“You love him like a son.” He says, turning those damned green eyes on her. She can’t look away from them. “If my sister finds out, she’ll gut him like a fish in front of you, just because you stole what was hers.” He warns.
She bristles at that. “I did not steal anything from her. I took what was freely given.” She snaps, and to that he has no response, falling back into silence, staring broodily into the fire.
Her stomach growls and Jaime reaches into his worn traveling pack, handing her a stale piece of dried meat. She accepts it and sits down across from him, chewing on the tough food, unsure of where they stand now. Podrick joins them, having taken care of the horses, sitting as closely as he can to the warmth of the fire. It is still winter, and winter means harsh, cold winds and frozen ground.
They are just lucky the snow has mostly melted. Pod tears a loaf of bread into three and hands her two pieces of it. She passes one to Jaime, who takes it with a soft thanks. They share a flask of water. She watches the fire and becomes drowsy, barely holding back a yawn. She can see Jaime slumping a bit as he sits. “Pod.” She says, breaking the silence, and he jumps before looking at her with wide eyes. “Take watch, then wake me up on second shift.”
“Yes, Ser.” Pod replies, giving her a nod. She avoids Jaime’s narrow look. He cannot be trusted with taking watch, at least not now. She is half-convinced the second she turns her back on him, he will disappear into thin air. She busies herself with getting comfortable on the ground, thankful for her thick Northern cloak. The furs lining the fabric keep her warm enough that she quickly drops off into sleep, and the last thing she hears is the familiar sounds of Jaime’s snores.
Pod wakes her for her shift with a soft shake to the shoulders. On instinct, she reaches for Oathkeeper before registering that it is her squire that wakes her. He has leaned back, waiting on his haunches for her to gather his wits. He is used to her quirks by now. She is a warrior and has a warrior’s instincts. Her squire knows all of this, and yet her squire has seen the woman inside of her as well, and does not judge her wanting. She realizes uncomfortably that she trusts Pod more than Jaime. It is strange, to trust her squire more than her lover, and yet for all it’s strangeness does not make it any less true.
She lets Pod use her bedroll as she takes a quick drink of water, going to check on the horses. It is nearly dawn, the sky is slowly getting lighter. The stars are fading from sight, getting dimmer by the second. She frowns at her own melancholy thoughts, shaking her head once. She has to stop. She’s on a mission from her Lady, and there is no time for her own dramatics. She needs to stay focused. She glances at Jaime, who is curled in his bedroll, tossing and turning, quietly mumbling. He is probably dreaming of Cersei, she thinks miserably.
A few hours pass by. Her watch is uneventful, the only noise brought by the chirping of a few birds and crickets and the rustling of her traveling companions. Winter is truly over then, she realizes. This is the most wildlife she’s heard so far North in the entire time she’s been here. That thought fills her with a small measure of comfort. Even if she is killed trying to fulfill her Lady’s orders, the people after her will thrive.
She decides to wake Jaime first, allowing Pod a few more minutes of sleep. Jaime looks up at her with bleary green eyes and smiles an achingly gentle smile at her until she can see that he remembers where they are. A mask falls over his face. She cannot tell what he is thinking. She tries desperately not to care. She fails. She moves to wake up Pod, but a hoarse voice stops her in her tracks.
“Do you hate me now, Ser? Do you see the hateful man that I am?” He asks, as if he cares about what she thinks. But that thought is discourteous. She knows what she is to him. So she replies quietly, “I have always seen you, Ser Jaime. It is you who cannot see yourself in clarity.” He swallows thickly but says nothing in response. She wakes up Pod. Within thirty minutes they are back on the road.
The routine follows like that for days. Her and Pod keep watch, mainly because Brienne still cannot tell if Jaime will run if either of them sleep at the same time. He says nothing about the distrust for days, until finally he seems to snap. “Ser, I would not leave you unguarded while you sleep. You can trust that.”
She gives him a side-glance, evaluating his words. “You did before.” She says in a clipped tone, and he rears back, wounded, and does not speak again for the rest of the day. But that night she gives him first watch.
Their food stores are rapidly declining. She sends Pod out to hunt, only realizing her mistake after he’s already gone into the trees. Her and Jaime are alone now. They stare silently at each other for a few minutes, her heart thumping madly like a rabbit caught in a trap. If this is a trap, it is one of her own making. “Brienne.” He says quietly. The only time he has said her name since the day they caught up to him. She remembers the way he used to say her name in the bed at Winterfell. “Brienne. Tell me honestly, what would happen after the war? If I had not left?” He is in one of his moods, then. He seems to swing between being confident that he’ll manage to kill Cersei and being completely devastated.
“I would have liked to take you to see Tarth.” She says after a moment of thought. “We would have swam in the cold of the sea. You would try new foods, and I would laugh at your expressions to them. You would meet my father. I would take you to the meadows that are covered in lavender, or the great waterfalls hidden by the trees.” He makes a small, mournful sound in his throat.
“No mention of marriage?” He asks. She gives him a withering look. “No.” She answers, looking to the side, unable to meet his gaze. “After the war, when we are still alive, then we can talk about marriage.” The words come out of her lips without forethought, and from the corner of her eye she can see him startle. His expression changes to one of dawning hope. It is a beautiful sight, like seeing a sunrise after spending too long in the dark.
“I am an old man and a cripple. After this war, my fighting will be done.” He warns, but he seems to be coming closer to her.
“I am a Lady Knight, and ugly besides.” She responds, turning to face him, a small smile on her lips. “After this war, I just want to go home. And there is a home for you at Tarth, if you want to live. But if you want to die, you must tell me now Ser, for you have never lied to me and I will not feast on false hopes.”
He replies, “My name is Jaime.” And kisses her, and she feels hope for him for the first time since he left her in the North.
You will live, Jaime Lannister.
And he does.