Jaime had managed to take a little more than 300 men with him. He had hoped for more, but the soldiers were afraid of Cersei. No one believed that what happened in the Great Sept of Balor was an accident. Everyone knew what could come of the queen's wrath. And right now, he was Cersei's enemy. She had probably put a price on his head. He couldn't care less. The mere thought of her now repulsed him. While before, it filled him with love, joy, lust.
They were heading north. Cersei may didn't care about the worth of her word, but he damn well did. He may have not before, but now he did. Thanks to Brienne, promises and oaths now meant a lot to him now. She had had bigger influence on him that he had imagined possible.
Jaime was deep in his thoughts when Bronn's voice brought him back to reality.
"You know you're a dead man the second you set foot in Winterfell, don't you, cunt?"
Jaime had thought about it. The Starks had every reason to cut off his head. He crippled Bran, his family murdered Ned, Robb and Catelyn Stark. They had installed the Boltons in Winterfell. Ramsay Bolton killed the youngest Stark boy and rumors said he did unimaginable things to Sansa. He wouldn't blame them if they put his head on a spike. He truly wouldn't. Hell, if it was him in their place, he would've wanted to slowly torture every one of the people he thought responsible for all those perils. There was also Daenerys Targaryen. He had himself killed her father, the Mad King. He doubted she would be forgiving.
"Maybe. Maybe they will see reason and let us help them against the damn Others and f we get out of that alive, only then will justice be served."
If he was honest, he deserved to die. He knew it. For most of his life, he had been selfish, arrogant. He broke every oath he had ever sworn. He committed countless sins. He failed. As a brother, as Kingsguard, as a man, as a father. There were times he wished for death. He just hoped he would die with dignity.
"That wench has really rubbed off on you, hasn't she?" Bronn chuckled.
"Don't call her that! To you, she is Lady Brienne of Tarth." Jaime hissed with anger.
"Easy there! One would think she was more than a traveling companion."
Jaime sighed. Bronn could never understand the moral and honor of Brienne. There was no point in trying to understand. So he tried to change the subject.
"Let me ask you a question, Bronn. You know that with leaving King's Landing, I am a pariah. I won't be able to pay you or give you the damn castle you so desperately want. Why the hell did you come with me?"
"Always wanted to fuck a wildling and I heard Winterfell is full of them now."
Jaime shook his head. There was no hope for him.
As he rode towards the gates of Winterfell, so close no, Jaime Lannister was reminded of the first time he was at the Stark's home. The feelings of regret and shame overwhelmed him. He knew damn well he could die in a matter of minutes after he set foot there. Still, he knew what he wanted. He wanted to the right thing.
He could see the gates open. He expected it. The guards must have spotted him and his men. A rider was heading toward them. He could spot the thick black hair and the inner grace with which he carried himself. He had seen now too many kings and queens in his life, but that bastard, Jon Snow, was the only one who, to him, represented what a king should be. Rhaegar Targaryen had been that way. If only he had won against Robert Baratheon.
"Kingslayer. What are you doing at our gates?"
"I come in peace, Lord Snow."
"Fuck these formalities, Lannister. You know damn well I am no lord, but a bastard. What do you want?"
Jaime could sense his distrust, his anger.
"Cersei lied to you."
Worry and shock covered the young wolf's face. Still, he looked surprisingly graceful still.
"She has no intention of sending troops to fight the walkers. She hopes they crush you and Daenerys, so that she can remain on her fucking throne. And I… I can't accept that, milord. I gathered as many of the Lannister army as I could convince. Most were scared of Cersei or riding north in winter, or both. I got only 300 men. But each one of us will fight beside you against the Others. You have our swords, and you have my word that I, Jaime Lannister, will help you defeat the Night King, even if I die in this war."
He couldn't quite read Jon Snow's expression. A thousand things were probably going around inside his head. He was just a boy, just a few years older than Joffrey would've been had he not died, with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"And what good is your word, ser Jaime? The word of a Kingslayer, a man who fathered his sister's children and presented them as Robert Baratheon's, the man who crippled my brother Barn, just an innocent child, because he caught you and Cersei? What good is the word of a man without honor?"
Jaime was used to all the name calling. He was aware he deserved it. But he also knew that they needed his help.
"Maybe to you, it's worth nothing. I can't take away the past. To say I am sorry won't give your brother his legs back. You have every right to draw your sword to me here and now. And if you do, my men will still fight for you against the army of the dead. But I think I can help you. I have far more war experience than any of your advisors. And I want to fight for the living. After that, I am ready to withstand a trial. But now, as you said, we need to unite. These abominations are getting closer and closer as we speak. Are you, Jon Snow, a man of your word? As your father was. I think you are. And if I am right, you will let me fight this war with you."
He could see the boy knew he needed all the help he could get.
"You stay away from my brother, Kingslayer."
For the first time in a really, really long time, Jaime had a purpose. He felt he was about to do something with true meaning. And that, that was glorious.
