AN: OK like everyone else, I did not see 8x04 turning out the way it did. Aside from my initial anger and frustration, my mind started spinning and came up with this. Canon up to 8x04 and total speculation for what will come next. I've not written anything in ages so I hope it's not too terrible.

Six months.

Six months since he left Winterfell and rode at full gallop to King's Landing.

Six months since he left the woman he loved standing in the cold, tears running down her face as she asked, pleaded, begged him to stay.

Five months since the Battle for Kings Landing; the end of the Winter Wars/the War of the Fire Queen/whatever fucking war they called it. So much fire and blood… a true Targaryen victory.

Five months since he stabbed his twin, his other half, in the back and used his golden hand to crush her throat and choke her to death.

Five months since his trial and subsequent pardon. After the death of her closest friend, Queen Daenerys was willing to forgive whoever killed Cersei of all their past sins; even the man who killed her father in the first place.

Four months since he left Kings Landing; bequeathing his title of Lord of Casterly Rock to his far more deserving brother. His golden hand was flung into the sea before he left.

Three and a half months since he left Ser Bronn of House Blackwater in his new castle of Highgarden.

Three months since he left his horse at a harbour to take a ship as far as he wanted to go.

Two and a half months since he saw Tarth on the horizon and felt such powerful shame, regret and self-hatred that he vomited on the deck.

Two months since he returned to land and made the decision to go where he should have been.

One month since he crossed into the Neck; the last chance to turn back. Yet he pressed on, for he had to, there had never been another choice since the moment Widow's Wail pierced Cersei's back. Despite his dithering and wandering and time wasting, he knew where his path would lead him.

One week since he reached Cerwyn; the last town before Winterfell. He could see the tops of the castle towers just on the horizon. Here he had rented a room with the last of the gold Tyrion had given him before he left. He had spent it carefully; sometimes sleeping under the stars or wandering hungry when he couldn't afford a horse or food. He studied his reflection in the small, tarnished mirror. His beard was shaggy and overgrown, there were more lines across his forehead and at his eyes, his clothes were filthy and worn, his boots were falling apart. He hadn't looked this bad since…

…since they took his hand and he had walked to Kings Landing with Brienne.

Brienne.

Ever since that night, he tried to not think of her. When he did, he tried to not think of her name. He did not deserve to even think her name. He was unworthy of her. Unworthy of her kindness. Unworthy of her friendship. Unworthy of her beaming smile that lit up her face. Unworthy of the sight of her glittering, sapphire eyes. Unworthy of being the one who stole her first kiss, her maidenhead, her heart. He was unworthy to be in the same town of someone of such honour, loyalty, strength, kindness, wisdom, friendship, love. He would never be worthy to look at her, much less look her in the eyes or speak to her. She was the Warrior made flesh. She was everything pure and perfect in this gods forsaken world. She had chosen him, trusted him, let him into her heart before she let him into her bed. She didn't say it but he knew that she loved him.

And he betrayed her.

All of those insults that had been thrown at him over the years: Kingslayer was what he wore like a badge of honour. Oathbreaker was what he ground under his heel. Man Without Honour was what he swept from his shoulder. There had been some truth in them, truth that he had hidden from the world. Except for her. She knew the truth and she never used it against him. Never used them after he reminded her of his name when he passed out in her arms. She saw past them, saw the man that he wanted to be and tried to make him into that man.

But he couldn't be that man.

The moment he returned to King's Landing, Cersei put her claws in him and he was once again trapped under her spell; a puppet whose strings Cersei could control in order to make him dance to whichever song she chose. It was only when he was in Riverrun and was able to see and speak to her again that the spell began to weaken. It broke when he returned to the capital to find the Sept in smouldering ruins, his youngest son dead from suicide and his sister on the throne. Jaime knew he did not imagine that look of madness in her eyes that night. He ordered himself to stay, to try and ensure Cersei saw reason, that she wouldn't slip into madness like Aerys did. Even though he knew she was already there. That was when she played a new song for him to dance to. That they were the only ones left; that they would rule the world like they always wished to, that there was a child he put there, and despite the world crumbling around them; he was powerless once more. His strings were back in Cersei's hand, her poisonous song in his ears, his limbs moving and shaking as he danced once again; forced to obey her every command and whim.

Then with one touch and two words; the strings were sliced through and the song ended, never to be heard again.

"Fuck loyalty!"

Only hearing those words from the most loyal and honourable person he knew had that power. Hearing her voice cleansed his ears from the hypnotic melody. Looking in her eyes, he saw the world anew again, clearly again. Had it been anyone else, even Tyrion, it wouldn't have worked. Cersei's power over him was too strong. Only she could have done it. And she did. He had rode north; determined to honour his pledge; to break free from his sister's control forever, to finally become the man he needed to be. An Oathkeeper. A Man With Honour. Someone he could be proud of. Someone she could be proud of.

And for a brief, shining moment, he had been. He had fought the Battle of the Long Night. He had survived. They disposed of the dead, celebrated, drank, laughed and for one night, one wonderful night, he had been a man in love and making love to a woman he truly loved in return. Like all moments, it had to end. The message from the capital; Cersei's final shove into total insanity. For a split second, he heard the melody again. This time however, he was strong enough to block it out. For a moment.

Then the melody returned. A new melody. It drew him out of his happiness and gave him a new order. He was to return to Cersei. He was to return to Cersei and kill her. She was beyond help, beyond repentance. Beyond mercy. Jaime laboured over what to do. He had to kill her. It couldn't be anyone else. He was there when she entered the world. He had to be there when she left it. It had to be him. He would have to go alone. He tried to rationalise it in his head. Winterfell was virtually unmanned, undefended. Someone had to stay to protect Sansa Stark and Winterfell. He couldn't take the best warrior he knew with him. She would understand. He would explain it. But he could barely explain it to himself. It was a suicide mission. He knew it was unlikely that he would return. He knew his death would break her heart.

So he had to break it first. Try and ensure that she hated him, despised him. Make it so that she would be relieved to hear of his death. That she would rejoice and smile that dazzling smile in triumph over his demise. Make sure his death would hurt her less than it would. It was the only way he could protect her. She had to let him go. He had never been worthy of her. He should have never thought he deserved to kiss her, to make love to her. He was a heartless, wicked, vile man. He was selfish. She could do so much better than him. If they had any sense, every man in Westeros should be begging for her hand.

He could still see her tears.

He could still hear the desperation in her voice as she begged him to stay.

He could still feel the disgust at his own actions in his stomach.

He could still taste and smell that night; a cold winter's night in Winterfell. A night with no stars in the sky, the air had finally cleared of lingering smell of ash and burning flesh. The air had chilled his mouth when he had opened it to speak.

Jaime wished he could go back to that night and do it all again. Every night before he slept, he replayed the same scene in his head; how it should have been.

Brienne's tears sliding down her face, her hands trembling on him as she pleased with him to stay.

"Please stay," Brienne pleaded, her normally strong voice wavering with her tears.

He took his hand in hers, raised them to his lips and kissed them.

"I'll stay." He whispered. "I promise."

They seal that promise with a kiss and walk back inside. They warm themselves by the fire before they fall asleep in each other's arms. Everything is perfect and then…

He would wake up.

For the past six months, he had tried to forget until he realised it was pointless. Then it was time to try to forgive. He spent months wandering the seven kingdoms, trying to build the courage to do it. To return to Winterfell and beg her forgiveness. Even if she didn't forgive him. Even if Podrick Payne removed his head from his shoulders. Even if Arya Stark sliced his throat. Even if Sansa Stark fed him to the wolves, he would do it. He would return to Winterfell. He would crawl into the courtyard, he would approach her on bended knees, hand and stump outstretched and beg her forgiveness. He would not deserve her forgiveness or her mercy. For a week he had planned out what he would do. How he would do it. Every day, he made his plan. Every day, he refused to do it like the coward he was.

As the dawn broke and sunlight began to slip across the room, Jaime stood up. He would do it today. Before he became a coward once more.

Before he could stop himself, Jaime walked out of the room, left the inn and walked through the town towards Winterfell. With each step, he felt more determined. There was finally no more turning back. No more running away. He would walk into Winterfell. He would face Ser Brienne of Tarth. He would fall to his knees and plead for her forgive. He would beg like she begged. Even if it killed him, he would do it.

As the gates approached, his pace began to stall. His heart leapt into his throat as nerves clenched his stomach. The gates were open and the courtyard was its usual hive of activity. Jaime kept his head down as he walked through the gates, not even being stopped by a guard. He was inside Winterfell. Jaime raised his head and looked around, recalling for an instant the last time he entered Winterfell and came face to face with Bran Stark. That had been simple compared to this. Jaime stepped forward, looking around for a familiar face. He only made it five paces before a familiar voice called out.

"You."

The voice was cold and he was amazed how she managed to get so much distain and hatred in just one word. Jaime turned his head and watched as Sansa Stark; Lady of Winterfell and Wardeness of the North walked towards him. Her face was carefully expressionless but anger raged in those eyes. He had seen those eyes before; when Catelyn Stark held him in a cage after her husband's death. Back then he could look her in the eyes. He couldn't look her daughter in the eyes now.

It seemed everyone else had frozen in place, aside from Gendry, who Jaime saw out of his peripheral vision rush off, clearly to find the other Starks to watch this particular scene play out.

"Me. Lady Stark I am here to-" Jaime began as Sansa cut across him.

"I know why you are. You're here for the same reason that you returned to Winterfell before. You took your time. Tyrion told me that you left the capital months ago." Sansa said coldly. There was no rudeness in her voice, but there was spite. She was making it clear; she despised him and was disgusted by him.

"I did. My Lady, I am here to se-" Jaime tried but Sansa spoke over him again. This time there was anger in her tone.

"I know why you are here. I know who you are here to see. If I had my way, you would never see her again. You hurt her." Sansa said, using just the right tone to make sure those last three words stung Jaime under his skin. Which they did. He knew he had hurt Brienne but hearing someone else say it just made it worse. Brienne had been unable to mask that pain, hide that sorrow, bury it down the way she had all her other pains and sorrows. He had done that to her.

"I want to see her, to try and make it right." Jaime explained quickly. "You don't understand."

"I understand that someone I cared about was abandoned by the only person that she trusted, that she loved. I understand that you took all of what made her honourable and true and flung it back in her face. I understand that you think that by coming back, bending your knees, sobbing and snivelling that she will forgive you. That if you say just the right thing, all will be forgotten and forgiven. But it won't. Because there is something that you don't understand." Sansa retorted, her composure starting to slip as she defended her closest friend.

"And what don't I understand?" Jaime asked as he felt the point of a blade poke into his back.

"What you don't understand, Queenslayer, would fill many books." Arya said snidely as she walked around him; keeping the blade firmly on him. "I should kill you just for what you did to Bran. Then you hurt Brienne and now I want to kill you before slicing that face off and wearing it myself. Do you know what I did to the Frey's? That massacre was me. I turned the Night King to ice and dust. Think of what I can do to you."

"Please, just listen to me. I'm only here to see Ser Brienne. I know that I don't deserve her forgiveness and I don't intend to get it. I know I am unworthy to even be in the same town as her; that I am everything they say I am and more. I just need to see her again; to apologise and explain myself to her, only to her. After that, then you can do what you want to me. Whatever torture and pain you have spent the past six months planning, you can do all that and more. I won't stop you." Jaime explained; didn't these little girls understand? Nothing else mattered to him but seeing Brienne again. They could stab him, poison him, chop him into pieces, light him on fire, none of it mattered. Nothing could make him feel worse than he already did.

"You still don't understand. You left something else with her that day. However it is not my place to say." Sansa said finally. "Come with me."

Sansa turned and walked inside. As Jaime followed her, he felt Arya grab his arm and press the blade into his back.

"One word. One wrong movement and you'll wish you died with your insane sister." Arya muttered as she marched Jaime inside.

Jaime's mind was buzzing with the things the Stark sisters had said to him. Clearly the sisters adored Brienne that much to feel this much rage and disgust towards him. Arya Stark had been the one to eliminate House Frey. He had caused such torment and pain to Brienne that he knew it was unforgiveable. But what had he left behind that night, aside from all his honour and potential to be a good person?

Jaime was distracted from his thoughts by a fist slamming forcefully into the side of his head; making his vision spin and the floor to come slamming up to hit his side. When the world stopped spinning, Jaime looked up to see Podrick glaring at him with the ferocity of a dragon.

"That was for Milady." Podrick snarled before he spat on Jaime and walked off. Sansa and Arya completely ignored the fact that he had been attacked by Podrick fucking Payne of all people and continued their walk to Brienne's room. He knew that was where they had been going. How many times had he walked this passageway in his dreams? It still didn't explain why they were leading him there. Why was Brienne in there? Why was she not training knights, patrolling the castle, keeping people safe and being the knight she was meant to be?

Had he really hurt her that much that she had had to retire to her bed in absolute melancholy? No, surely not Brienne. He couldn't have done that? Could he?

Finally they reached the door and Sansa turned to him. "Wait here." Sansa ordered and had it not been for the blade threatening to break the skin on his back and slice him open, Jaime would have challenged her. For once, he held his tongue.

Sansa knocked on the door and slipped inside. Jaime acknowledged how carefully she had slipped inside, ensuring he could not even get the faintest glance of Brienne. He was now so close that his body was starting to tremble. His heart was beating faster than it ever had and his sole hand was slick with sweat. His breath was coming in short gasps and he could feel Arya's smug amusement at his plight.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the door finally opened and Sansa gestured for him to step inside. Jaime walked in and his breath caught in his throat. Brienne was stood with her back to him, facing the fire. He could see the flames licking the logs as he recalled her advice that night. Always add a log to the fire when leaving the room. Things were different. Her hair was longer, almost curling at her shoulders. Her stance was different, her hands weren't behind her back or at her sides. They were in front of her. Jaime glanced around the room, looking for a sign of what he had left behind; like a cloak or a knife. For once, he didn't want to speak. He knew, he had to let her address him. If she wanted to. He would stand here forever if that was how long it took for her to speak to him again. As he waited, Sansa and Arya stepped back; clearly not wishing to miss a moment but also aware that it was not their place to intervene.

"You're here." Brienne said finally, her voice carefully controlled, almost sceptical.

"I am." Jaime whispered and before he could stop himself, he blurted out the words that came next. "Please look at me."

"Why? I should imagine I look as hideous as I did that night. Weeping and sobbing like a little girl. Why would Ser Jaime Lannister want to look at Brienne the Beauty?" Brienne asked and the self-hatred dripped from her voice.

"I don't deserve to look at you. I know that. I don't deserve to be in the same room as you. I know you don't want to hear my apologies, I know I hurt you, betrayed you more than anyone else but please, please Brienne, look at me." Jaime pleaded, all of his practiced apology speech had fled his mind. He couldn't think of anything else to say anymore. Not until he saw her face, saw those shining eyes that he was not worthy to see. Before he could stop himself, he fell to his knees but didn't feel the pain as the stones hit his bones. "I'm sorry Brienne, I truly am. I don't deserve your forgiveness or your mercy. Let the Stark girls kill me or run me through yourself. I wish I could explain why I did what I did. It's all so stupid now. I wanted to spare you the pain of knowing I died. I wanted you to live your life, a full and rich life without someone as disgraceful as me holding you back. You deserve every happiness, every honour. You should be on that damned chair with everyone adoring you. You trusted me, you loved me and I spat in your face like everyone else did before me. Even if you forgave me, which only someone as noble and pure of heart like you could do, I will never, ever forgive myself for the pain I caused you. Just please, please Brienne. Look at me."

"Why should I?" Brienne asked again. "You've had five months to return. A lot changes in five months. What makes you think I would forgive you? Do you not think I didn't know what your stupid plan was? Did you not think that I knew you would try and hurt me to spare my pain? You had a choice Jaime. You chose wrong. Now you return like nothing has happened and you beg for my forgiveness. It's not as simple as that."

"I know it's not." Jaime replied and Brienne shook her head.

"You don't know." Brienne said. "You would have known if you had stayed. Even if I forgave you and never saw you again, I would never forget you. Not with what you left me."

"What did I leave you with?" Jaime asked; it felt like he was missing something obvious. Something everyone knew except for him. He knew he left Brienne with a broken heart and at least a dozen regrets; that was why he was here apologising.

"You haven't guessed? Think to yourself. Why am I in here instead of out doing physical training or manual work where I could strain myself or be hurt? Why is everyone so disgusted with you; if all you did was flee in the middle of the night like a whore in a castle? What could be something you left which enraged everyone who cares for me, aside from the fact you threw me aside like a one-coin whore? And why have I not faced you, when if anything, you should have your back to me when you grovel like a dog?" Brienne challenged as finally, finally, the pieces fell into place for Jaime.

He hadn't just abandoned Brienne in the middle of the night. It hadn't just been Brienne he had neglected and avoided returning to for months. It wasn't just Brienne who had been wounded by him, who faced a lifetime without seeing him again. What else would have caused this level of hatred and disgust towards him from the three people he knew Brienne loved as if they were her own children?

"Y-you… you're… you mean I-we-" Jaime stammered and stumbled over his words as Brienne turned to face him at last. Jaime looked into her eyes, feeling a pang of shame at the tears that glistened in them before his face lowered to her lips, her breasts before finally the fell on the large swell on her stomach that clearly showed the advanced state of her pregnancy.

"We did." Brienne said, as she rested her hands over her stomach, feeling their child kick from within before she looked at Jaime again, his jaw hanging open in shock.

"Now is there anything else you wanted to say?"

AN: OK so that was a bit rambling I know and I'm not really sure if Brienne is pregnant but hey, at this stage we can't rule anything out with all these plot twists being thrown at us from nowhere.