Author's note:

Due to the fact that D&D are incapable writers who do not seem to think that hiring female writers to write female characters could be beneficial for the success of storytelling and the overall feel to season 8 of Game of Thrones, the fandom is in desperate need for a fix.

I want y'all to be able to go to a place that'll help do that and hopefully you'll find stories that are something you'd wanted to see on the big screen instead of the mess we're seeing right now which includes character assassinations and the slow and steady or sometimes sudden crumble of hard-earned character development. It has me raging. It had me furious. There is a reason male writers should not be responsible to write female (strong) characters - you just suck at it and you know. So here is my attempt to save some of the things that D&D badly screwed up.

And yes, D&D, I did sign a petition to redo a lot of season eight. I stopped watching after 8x04 and quite frankly: Y'all suck!

Chapter 1 - A Maiden Fair

As she slowly ascended the staircase towards her chambers, Brienne of Tarth still felt her cheeks burning in what she felt like must surely be a deep shade of crimson red. She could not fully tell whether it was the sudden necessity to acknowledge the fact that their little drinking game had unearthed the truth about her non-existing love life, or whether the consumption of a larger amount of wine had done this to her. She was quite certain it had to be a combination of both. Every movement created pain, although she would have to admit that her armor had protected her from most of the injuries that were theoretically possible to have sustained. Others had. Others died. She ... had not. She was alive and well apart from a few dark bruises, a very dominant one right above her collarbone, one around her left eye and several smaller ones on both of her legs. She had been lucky. Lucky to have had Ser Jamie and Podrick by her side when fighting the dead.

'Jamie...'

She huffed.

No, not this again. She could not allow herself to let her mind wander to him. Again. It wasn't proper and it wasn't something she was extraordinarily proud of.

'The stupid drinking game of this stupid imp...' she thought and huffed once again as she slowly reached the end of the staircase, carefully avoiding sudden movements that could potentially cause her pain. She had had worse, essentially, but the fight against an army of undead had not only drained her physical but also her mental strength. She was glad that she didn't have to kill anyone she had known. At least she could not remember, which was probably for the best if you thought about it.

Tyrion's game had forced her to leave the festivities early, the noises echoing though the empty corridors and staircases of the castle, telling stories of survival, friendship, and heroic actions, whispering the promises of spring and new beginnings. It would have been easy just to take a swift sip from the cup and pretend as nothing had ever happened but Jamie's presence at the table had made that ineffective; he saw right through her, just as she'd cut through his bullshit. She knew him better than most, she knew different things about him.

"Are you certain that we can trust Jamie, Lady Brienne? He is a Lannister, after all," Sansa Stark asked as the meeting adjourned and she had retreated to her chambers, Brienne always by her side.

"I am," Brienne said, truthfully.

"Well, he is a Lannister and a Lannister always pays his price," Sansa stated bitterly, remembering her miserable times in King's Landing.

"He's come to defend the living and I believe him when he says that he intends to keep that promise, Lady Sansa," Brienne added, looking Sansa directly into her eyes, her unwavering will to defend Jamie's honor apparent in her expression, her body language and the slight small grind of her jaw.

"I suppose he did leave his sister to come here," Sansa trailed off, her eyes sparkling.

"That ... too," Brienne answered, unsure what to think, how to react and how to bring Jamie's actions into line with everything she knew about him. "He's exceptionally loyal, Mylady, and I truly believe that he intends to keep his promise."

"Bran seems to agree with you," Sansa said, jerking her chin towards the general direction of the weird wood tree on the outskirts of Winterfell.

"I'm glad," Brienne smiled, "but then I should have known that he would have checked on him. After all, he had waited the entire day in the same spot and when I asked him whether he'd be more comfortable next to a fire place he told me that he was waiting for an old friend ... he just didn't know when exactly he'd be here..."

"What Bran does and how he does it is a mystery to me," Sansa sighed, "but whatever he is seeing is important for the battles ahead ... the long night is upon us and we need every man we can get. Even if it's a Lannister."

"Well, I for one am glad he's here..."

"Are you?" Sansa asked with a smirk, causing Brienne to blush furiously.

"May I go back to my chamber, Mylady? I want to make sure that my armor is fully functional and ready to be taken into battle. I might ask Gendry for some additional modifications, still" Brienne hastily said and Sansa decided not to press this matter further. Lady Brienne of Tarth deserved to not answer her question ... for now.

"You may," the redhead dismissed the taller woman and Brienne slowly excused herself from the room, cursing her body to portray her emotions ever so openly in front of Lady Sansa.

She had kept the fire going and upon entering her chamber she immediately got rid of her leather jacket and threw it carelessly on a stool next to her bed. The Northerners had adviced her early on to always keep a fire going in order for the room not to cool down. They had told her that it would be much harder to -re-heat a cold room than keeping a steady temperature in her chamber. She had listened to the advice and returned to the remnants of a formally bigger fire. Immediately, she checked her stash of wood and threw some smaller branches into the fireplace. They should suffice in order for the room to stay at a reasonable temperature throughout the entire night. Apart from that, drinking all that wine had also made a difference.

She could tell that the wine had made her a little tipsy. She normally wasn't one to engage in any drinking game but Tyrion's game had sounded fun, at first that is.

"Wrong, wrong, wrong! Drink!" an excited Brienne shouted and pointed at Tyrion who greedily took a big gulp from his small chalice. Tyrion's laughter was contagious and she had found herself enjoying the company of the three men more than she could have imagined mere hours ago, heck, mere hours ago she had thought she would die with Jamie and Podrick by her side, crushed by thousands of undead here they all were, alive and well, drinking wine and playing utterly silly drinking games. Alas ...

"You were married ... before Sansa," Brienne said and Tyrion hummed loudly. Jamie pointed his finger at him, grinned from ear to ear and said,"drink" which his brother did. His chalice must have been almost empty judging from the amount of wine he had consumed with these two questions alone.

Jamie turned toward Brienne, a silly smile on his face, his happiness apparent. Now, with anxiety a life-threatening danger gone from their minds in this glorious celebratory moment, Jamie looked much younger, joyous and carefree. Brienne liked what she saw.

'No, do not even,' she scolded herself and went on to ask yet another question.

"You're drinking wine but you prefer ale," she shouted, grinning in triumph.

"NOOOOO," Tyrion shouted, laughing devilishly. She had gotten it wrong. Brienne took a sip from her own chalice and as she did she could feel the alcohol clouding her senses. She grinned like a drunken idiot and Jamie smiled, looking expectantly at his brother. What would he ask next? Brienne looked at Tyrion, too, an amused grin still spread on her face. She wasn't afraid what he might ask ... the atmosphere around them was laden with sheer joy and triumph and it was hard to not feel exstatic about the smallest things.

Brienne looked from Tyrion to Jamie and back to Tyrion, awaiting his query. Tyrion looked at the blonde woman, his expression suddenly stern.

"You're a virgin", Tyrion stated, matter-of-factly. Brienne's face fell. Eyes wide she shot a quick look at Jamie before looking down onto the table. Next to her, Pordrick tried to ease her despair by taking a huge sip from his chalice. He, too, could sense her discomfort. As could Jamie. He looked at Brienne but she avoided his amused, yet intrigued gaze.

"That's a statement about the present..." Jamie tried to interfere but Tyrion wasn't having it.

"At no point in the past up until this very moment have you slept with a man," Tyrion paused, "... or a woman."

Brienne's eyes widened even further and after another quick glance toward Jamie she slowly got up, looking down at the table. With on quick jerk she stood up, rising to her full glory. With all strengh she could muster she suppressed her emotions and said, her teeth clashing together: "I have to piss."

Tyrion felt her furious glance upon him but pretended not to notice. Jamie, however, did. Before he could say anything, another voice interrupted the awkward situation.

"WE DID IT. We faced those icy fucks. Looked right into their blue eyes and here we are. And now ... which one of you cowards shit in your pants? Ha Ha Ha Ha!" Tormund Giantsbane roared.

"Please pardon me for a moment," Brienne pressed out before hastily retreating to her chamber. Tormund motioned to follow her but was stopped by one swift move from Jamie who got up, put his hands on Tormund's shoulders and shot him a warning glance before follwing the blonde out of the hall, leaving a distraught Tormund behind. Brienne glanced over her shoulder and saw Jamie which made her quicken her steps as she realized he was following her out of the hall.

'No. No. No.'

Silently, Tyrion filled Tormund's chalice with wine and left him be.

Podrick just smiled, the alcohol definitely impairing his senses.

Heartbreak and triumph were strongly intertwined in this winter's night at Winterfell.

There was a thud at her door. Not a real knock, just a thud. Just as if the person that tried knocking either wasn't trying too hard or was seriously intoxicated. Brienne pondered whether or not to check who it was. She had lost sight of Jamie after she had left the Great Hall and it had been several minutes since she had arrived at her chamber. Surely it must be some intoxicated reveler that had knocked on the wrong door.

Right?

She opened the door.

"You didn't drink!"