Notes: Can be read as a sequel of "Five Languages of Love" and "He Never Wanted to Leave", or as a separated story.
The war had ended as quickly as it started, but that didn't mean that it wasn't less horrifying.
Although weeks had came and gone after that terrible chapter in the history of King's Landing, one could still feel in the air a subtle aroma of burnt flesh, essence that held onto the almost ruined constructions as a reminder of what came in hand with the thirst for power.
Many had died, tragically. But thanks to the intervention of others, many had been saved as well.
And among the heroes who had given their all in order to save the innocent inhabitants of King's Landing, one name was particularly interesting:
The Kingslayer.
The Man Without Honor.
…Ser Jaime Lannister.
When she finally arrived to the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, Ser Brienne of Tarth was informed about the fate of the man she had come to love during the last years of her life: His body had been dug up from under a big pile of debris, still firmly holding his sword, Widow's Wail. And even when being crushed to death wasn't the ideal way to go, his face was decorated with a peaceful smile.
However, something had thrown off to those who found him: He wasn't in possession of the golden hand that had become his. This artifact was found away from him, left behind inside the hall that once sheltered the infamous Iron Throne, beside the now carbonized body of the Queen that never surrendered, not even when the prospects were at their darkest.
Many suspected that he had tried to save her. After all, the incestuous relationship held by the Lannister twins was not a secret anymore. However, only Brienne could see the truth immediately.
She knew he had risked everything in order to protect those who had seek refuge inside the walls of King's Landing and the Red Keep, in a gesture that mirrored almost poetically his past, when Aegon II Targaryen lost all reason and wanted to kill every citizen by fire.
But nevertheless, in this last time, he didn't only lost his honor… he lost his life.
The night after receiving the news, Brienne allowed herself to lock herself inside her chambers so she could cry as much as her heart desired. And she did. She cried for the lost love, for failing to protect (once more) the one she loved.
But mostly, she cried because the journey the Golden Lion had started finally came to an end, with a fitting ending for him: As a man of honor, something she knew he was since many years ago.
So she made a promise: That night was for crying to her heart's content, but once the dawn arrived, no more tears would be shed.
She couldn't waste more time in tears when the kingdom still needed to heal; not when the story of that noble knight wasn't tell yet.
The process to rebuild the kingdoms was slow, but it advanced more smoothly than what was initially expected. There were things that didn't change, such as the way of ruling, and others that did, like how many kingdoms would answer to the new King. And amongst all this changes that were little but also significant, the decision of the new King to name a woman as the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard stood out. It was the first time in the story of the (now) Six Kingdoms that something similar had happened, but now that it was official, who else beside Brienne of Tarth would be fit for the position?
Brienne of Tarth, the first woman who had been knighted.
Brienne of Tarth, who never wavered before anything while walking her own path.
Brienne of Tarth, who embodied perfectly what an honorable knight should strive to be.
The Starks had lived. The Lannisters almost disappeared.
But funny enough, it was a Tarth who took as her responsibility to fix the story of that one Lannister once known as the Kingslayer.
Not Tyrion, not even Bran. Brienne of Tarth used the Book of Brothers to tell the story that was entrusted to her, which had started that fateful day a Golden Lion decided to stab his king in the back in order to protect thousands of innocents, and ended the day that same Lion chose to give his life… to protect thousands of innocents.
"Died protecting the innocent" was the words she chose to end a tale that, hopefully, could be told for many generations to come.
She lived for another fifty years. Maybe a little more, maybe a little less, but she lived enough to see her golden hairs turn to silver, and her hands, skillful with the sword, into trembling tools.
But she never, not once, lost the light in her gaze, always strong, noble and decided. This light only extinguished the day of her death, once she finally felt satisfied with the path she had walked, the thinks she had obtained, the legends she had created, and the doors she had opened for other young girls, like the one she had been in the past.
And when she closed her eyes for a last time, she allowed herself to wish being in Tarth again, surrounded by the beaches and the sea breeze she could already feel on her skin.
Before her consciousness faded away, she could almost swear that in the other side a male voice (the one she could only hear in dreams of the past) said to her "welcome home".
And she felt at home.