Okay, so... where to begin? I have been a piece of JB trash for about three years now, but I've always been an almost invisible member of the fandom. I have never really actively taken part to it, if not for some graphics I've made about them over the course of the seasons. After the reunion in season 6, I have poured all my feels in making fanvids about them, but not having someone with whom I could fangirl and obsess over them had become almost unbearable, so I have started talking to fellow JB shippers and I've met the nicest people! I feel so blessed for being part of a fandom made by so many talented, kind, intelligent and enlightened human beings! So this is for all the amazing queenofthorns I have met on Tumblr, and the girls at JBO, who have made me feel welcome right away and who have been very supportive of my decision to try and start writing again. So thank you very much! I hope you will not find this story to be complete crap.
I stopped writing around 4 years ago. I have tried time and time again, but it was like my brain was stuck in this huge writer's-block swamp and couldn't get out, whatever I tried to do. I've had several ideas for JB fics, but this was the only one that I thought I could write myself without making much of a mess. It was not that easy putting these ideas together, I kept changing my mind and going back on them, writing in English and then switching to Italian - my native language - and then back to English again in mid-sentence. Yeah, it was a mess. I've changed some things, the ending is totally different from what I had originally planned, but it was fun. I really missed writing. Currently my mind is still in chaos, it seems I am not able to make my brain come up with the right words and images for the story I have in mind yet, so you will find this story is very simply-written. It has no descriptions, apart from those showing emotions and reactions and feelings. I have not dwelt on the show's/books' bigger picture at all, the only characters present are Jaime and Brienne. The plot is nothing original, I just had a couple ideas in mind and put them together to write this story. I apologise for any inconsistencies, my poor writing style and any mistakes I have made, as I have said, English is not my native language.
This story is a mix of show and books, there are references from both, though I think the books have more influence over the way I've written the characters, hoping I didn't end up making them too OOC. I love them both very much but I find it hard to really get into their heads, so I fear I did not do them justice, though I hope to be wrong.
And of course I got carried away and ended up rambling! Well, I'll just leave you to the fic. Have a good read. :)
She had been waking up in the middle of the night for weeks now, all drenched in sweat and upset, heart beating out of her chest. It all felt so real she could almost feel Jaime's blood on her hands. She saw him die almost every night, nothing she could do to prevent it, and all she wanted to do was weep. Brienne had come to fear the moment the sun set and darkness came.
He had come North, "to do the right thing," he had said, his eyes fixed on her.
"I know you will do the right thing. I know you will." She had told him before going on their separate ways again.
She held his gaze, the ghost of a smile on her face.
From that day on, they had been together almost every day, spending hours in each other's company, sparring in the yard, planning the upcoming battle, or simply talking. They had taken to sitting next to each other after their sparring sessions to share stories. Jaime had demanded she told him of her childhood, of her home, Tarth. It hadn't been easy for her to relive memories that still left the bitter taste of humiliation in her mouth, bringing back feelings she hadn't gotten rid of yet. But Jaime would listen to her with genuine interest, no judgement on his beautiful face. She found herself telling him things she had never told anyone, exposing the most vulnerable side of herself to him. He would shake his head at times, his brow furrowed, an annoyed expression on his face, as Brienne told him of Septa Roelle, The Bet, her betrothals. She had wanted to ask what he was thinking, but never dared. At the mention of Connington though, his features had turned into a wicked mischievous grin. "I smacked him in the face." He had said. "With this," he showed her his golden hand, clearly pleased with himself.
"What?!" She couldn't stop herself from crying out, her blue eyes widening in surprise. "But... Why?"
Jaime just looked at her with an expression Brienne couldn't quite read, then shook his head and sighed, before standing to his feet and walking away.
He sat beside her after having been defeated by her again during their sparring. This time, to Brienne's surprise, Jaime started talking about his past - about that day, explaining to her the reasons which had brought him to question the line that separated his duties as Kingsguard from his moral duties. "I drove my sword through him. I watched his blood pool on the ground of the Throne Room, losing myself and what I had always believed in in the process."
Her vision blurred at those words, images of Jaime's hot blood on her hands clouding her eyes, horror and fear overwhelming her again.
"Wench, what's wrong?" he asked, staring at her intently.
"I... It's nothing," she replied, trying to hide the truth. The nightmare hadn't shown up again after his arrival, but now the memory of it had suddenly come back to hit her and he was right there to see it. She lowered her gaze.
"You're lying." He stated.
She didn't reply. She was on the verge of tears, and she feared emotions would get the better of her if she tried to speak.
"Look at me," Jaime demanded, but she just wouldn't give up. She felt so stupid for letting a dream affect her so much.
"Brienne." This time his voice was soft, almost a whisper, and she felt compelled to look up at him. There was genuine concern in those green eyes, and something else, the same she had noticed the day before, but still couldn't tell what it was. He reached for a loose strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. She just stood there, her eyes widening at the sudden unexpected touch. "You can tell me," he added, his fingers lightly lingering behind her ear. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, then closed it again and ran away, before he could see her face go red.
That night Brienne woke up screaming his name once again, only to find Jaime there in her bed, holding her. "I'm so sorry," she repeated between sobs, as he kept her close to his chest.
She was cradled back to sleep by the sound of his voice telling her he had come for her and he would never leave again. She woke up the next morning and he was gone.
The day of the battle came, way sooner than expected, so they couldn't afford to think about anything else.
She took Oathkeeper, held it in her hand as she looked at it, her eyes resting on the lion on the pommel. She was not going to let anything happen to him. She would use the sword to protect him. Jaime. She turned only to find the very man staring at her, that same unreadable expression in his eyes. His lips parted, as if he was about to speak, when voices outside urged them to leave the tent and get ready for what was probably going to be the last battle of their lives. He closed his mouth, turned his gaze away from her and stepped outside.
Fighting alongside Jaime seemed like a dream to Brienne. She had often thought of it, but knew it could never happen. And yet it did. He was right next to her, attacking and slashing and yelling commands as best he could. He might not be the best living swordsman anymore, but he had become the most capable commander she had ever known. He was born to lead, she thought as she spared a quick glance in his direction.
It all happened so fast.
She saw his green eyes grow big and scared, and he rushed towards her as he shouted her name. Only then she caught out of the corner of her eye what was probably the shape of a blade about to slash her. She knew it was too late to defend herself. She closed her eyes, ready to die.
The sword never fell on her. Instead, she heard the distinct clanging sound of steel against steel. Jaime had managed to stop the blow in time, doing his best to keep the blade in midair with his own. His brow glistened with sweat despite the freezing cold, and she could see how he was struggling. He could somehow fight with his left hand, but she knew it took a lot out of him, just to be able to control the sword properly.
"Get behind me and go!" he ordered, using his golden hand to help him steady his sword. She blinked at his broad back, as he positioned himself between Brienne and the creature who had attacked her. "I'm not going anywhere," she replied as she steadied herself.
"When in the Seven Hells will you stop being so pig-headed? I SAID GO!"
Before she could do or say anything, other enemies appeared behind them. She was forced to turn her back to Jaime, frantically slashing and fending them off, anxious to get back to him. She had just finished chopping the head off the last one, when she suddenly stopped, shivers going down her spine. She turned to look behind her... and there he was, on his knees, painting the white snow with the red of his blood.
"NOOO!" she screamed, eyes wide and desperate, as the creature raised his blade to give Jaime the final blow. She flung herself at the thing, running Oathkeeper right between his eyes. The creature fell on the ground with a soft thud as she pulled out her sword; she stood above it and severed its head in a swift move.
She ran to him, heavy breaths and heart pounding in her ears and chest. She took him in her arms and he looked up at her, his face as wan as the snow surrounding them.
"Gentler than I would've thought..." The words escaped his lips almost in a whisper, a half smile on his face. Those were the last words she heard him utter, before darkness took him.
He couldn't see a thing. Pitch-black darkness surrounded him and he had no idea where he was. For a moment he thought he had indeed died - The Underworld quite different from what he had imagined - but then he realised he was in a bed, his side and right arm aching terribly. When his eyes started to adjust, he managed to perceive that he was in a tent. He was trying to slowly put himself in a sitting position, when someone entered. His heart almost stopped. The torch Brienne was carrying almost fell from her hand, big eyes staring at him in silence for what felt like eternity. Then a smile started to make its way up her lips, reaching those astonishing blue pools of hers, and he couldn't help thinking he had never seen anything more beautiful. She took a step in his direction, but then she checked herself, suddenly turning his back to him. She went to light the fire.
He shook his head lightly, an amused and yet bitter smile on his face.
He loved her. He had realised it too late, with either the world about to end, or one – if not both – of them not making it out alive. He had chosen to go North and fight by her side. Fight to protect her. Because if the gods wanted him, they could very well take him for all he cared, but he was not going to let them take her as well.
"Come here," he finally spoke, the light now strong enough to light up the place. She slowly started towards the bed, and he realised she was limping.
"What happened to your leg?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.
"It's nothing, really. It's almost healed." She dismissed, sitting on his side of the bed.
His brow furrowed, "How did it happen?" He insisted.
She lowered her gaze, hesitated. "I- It does not matter."
"You did something stupid, did you not? Probably honourable, but stupid nonetheless." He said, more of a statement than a question.
Her gaze shot right back up to meet his eyes. "I did not. I was trying to take you somewhere safe an-"
"I knew it." He cut her off, shaking his head. "You... What in the Seven Hells were you thinking?!" It had come out harsher than he had intended, angrier at himself for not being able to fend off a fucking dead thing than at her. "You should have left me there!"
"I could not let you die, Jaime!" she protested.
"Will you ever let go of that damned honour of you-?"
She found herself cutting him off, raising her voice, "It was not about hon-" she stopped herself abruptly. Silence fell, as he saw her blush. Her eyes fell on her hands for an instant, only to slowly go back to meet his, "It was not about honour." She finished, her voice heavy with emotion as she tried to fight back the tears that were threatening to escape down her cheeks.
Jaime stared at her, eyes widening, surprise written all over his face. This time it was his turn to look away, his phantom hand itching as he fought back the urge to touch her.
He knew what she had meant with those words, but he also knew her. They had grown closer in those past few weeks, and yet he couldn't touch her without her shrinking back away from him.
The night he had heard her scream his name as he was passing by her tent, he had entered without thinking. He had given in to his own selfish desires, had climbed into bed and hold her. When she woke up in his arms, he was sure she was going to react as she had that same day in the yard, but she didn't. She had clinged to him as she wept, and he had felt his heart burst.
He had woken up with Brienne peacefully sleeping in his embrace, the sleeve of his shirt still held tight in her hand. He had stared at her for a while, taking her in, contemplating how young she looked, how young she actually was. A beautiful innocent child, in the arms of a man full of regrets. He had left the tent soon after, content to die with the memory of that night still fresh in his mind.
But he had not perished. And neither had the world, apparently.
"Did we make it?" He asked her, suddenly preoccupied with other pressing matters.
She nodded. He smiled. "And I missed out on all the fun. How long have I been sleeping?"
"Fourteen days." she replied, a trace of distress still lingering on her features. They had seemed an eternity to her, when all she could do was wait.
"Swear to me you will never do it again. Ever." He said, breaking the silence that had settled in.
She blinked at him, confused. "Never do what?"
"Put my life before yours."
"I cannot do that. I won't." she replied, determination in her voice.
"Do not be stubborn, Brienne."
"I am not being stubborn."
"Will you ever stop putting other people's lives before yours?" he said, exasperated.
"Will you ever stop putting so little value on your own?" She retorted.
He sighed. How he did manage to find the only person in all of Westeros who would go from hating his guts to truly and unconditionally caring for him, would always be beyond him.
He had told himself that dying protecting her – so she could go on with her life once that hell was over, would have been the right way to go.
He had told Bronn he saw himself dying in the arms of the woman he loved, and in a sort of very twisted, totally unexpected way, it seemed he was going to have just that. She had taken him in her arms, her touch as gentle as it had been in the bathtub back at Harrenhal, and he had smiled up at her, thinking of how it all had come full circle after all.
But he did not die. He was alive and so was she. They had both survived the end of the world and now he could not bare the thought of letting her go. She had given purpose to his life. She was his purpose.
"That night..." He heard her say. He looked at the young woman, waiting for her to continue.
She swallowed, trying to find the right words. "That night, when you... when you comforted me... I had been having it for weeks, I- I watched you die. In that dream." He kept his gaze fixed on her, as the realisation of what she was telling hit him. "I just stood there, helpless, as you died. Every time I woke up I could feel the warmth of your blood on my hands." The knot in his stomach tightened at witnessing how it all visibly upset her. "But you had promised, that night. You promised you would never leave again."
His eyes went wide. He did not think she had heard him.
"I had promised myself I would not let anything happen to you, but then I- I actually saw you there, down in that red-stained snow and I-" she tried to go on but couldn't. Her face slightly turned, her chin wobblying as her eyes wandered restlessly away from him.
He instinctively moved towards her, the urge to reach her, to touch her, to feel her warm skin against his as he comforted her getting the better of him. He let out a groan as he felt pain stabbing at his side. In a moment she was close to him, her hand on his arm, a concerned expression on her face. He fought back the pain, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her closer to him, his stump her waist. His green eyes burned like wildefire as they dove in the blue depths of hers, his resolve scattering like dust in the wind.
I know, how dare I write the lamest ending in the history of endings for a story just as lame? Believe me, I know. It was not the ending I had in mind, I just knew I didn't want to write a kiss - 'cause I am weird and don't make my OTP kiss, not even in my own fics, apparently - so I ended up with this, but I think you know what was going to happen next. ^^ You should be grateful in some respects, at some point I had thought of not going on after he passes out in Brienne's arms.
Originally the dream was about Brienne killing Jaime with Oathkeeper, but then I changed it 'cause I thought maybe it was too much.
And yes, I made a lame reference to the thought he had in the bathtub in the books, about her being gentler than he would've thought. I just thought of it while I was writing and that it would be nice to include it. And of course the Golden Bitchslap to Connington. I so hope the show will adapt that scene because I FREAKING LOVE IT.