Brienne – Tending the horses
He wasn't going to see her tears. She spoke sternly to herself as she made her way down to the horses. She wasn't going to spoil their last evening. Brienne had feared this would happen and yet she had been compelled to try. Too long she had not. Too long she had bitten her tongue. She had loved him for too long not to speak. She had longed for him for too long not to speak. Yet Tormund had made it even more pressing. His interest in her had awoken those feelings again. The feelings she was very good at keeping at bay and had since her early teens. Ever since Brienne knew most men were not interested in her as a woman, she'd learned to put a lid on such feelings. A very firm lid. It usually worked quite well. But not with Renly, nor with Jaime. Yet they had both been so unreachable, so distant and unavailable to her whereas Tormund, on the other hand, was very much at hand. It was flattering.
The horses didn't need much tending. She checked if they had enough hay. If they were not sweaty as they might fall sick with fever. If their shoes were still on properly. "A long road ahead tomorrow," she said to none of them in particular. "No more resting for any of us."
Brienne had been slightly appalled and horrified by Tormund's attentions at first, but as time went on, she had been flattered by them. The wildlings didn't punish fighting women. They adored them. They expected women to be strong. Brienne had grown to admire that attitude; it was one she shared with them, at heart. Jaime's raven had opened up old feelings, buried feelings, and so she had to find out, to be sure. He had been clear enough. A 'not now' that could become a 'not ever.' He'd be gone far away soon and who knew when they would meet again? If they would? Despite that he had said no. Quite clearly. There had been moments he'd said, but they were gone now. Tonight wasn't it. Cersei was still there: occupying his mind– almost like she had invaded or conquered it. Cersei might always be there, she thought. Perhaps it is better this way. She would not stop loving him yet she could perhaps love another as well.
Jaime – In Brienne's chamber
Jaime felt she was taking too long. He agonized if his rejection would hurt her willingness to help him. Yet he couldn't pretend just for the sake of her help. That would be dishonest and it might even show. Brienne deserved better than that. He sighed in relief when he heard her coming up the steps.
"Brienne," he said the moment she stepped inside: "I truly hope this doesn't change anything. I wouldn't want to lose your friendship for the world."
"You never will," she said, "you know that well enough, Ser Jaime." She gave him a stern look.
"I apologize," he said, "forgive me. I know you are not one to go back on your promises."
"Of course not," she said. "I'd die of shame."
Jaime bit his lip. Kingslayer his mind jeered. Queenslayer.
"Let's not talk about honor anymore," he said gruffly. "It's hardly my favorite subject." He saw that Brienne pretended not to notice the edge to his voice.
"You're right," she replied. "Let's not. Why don't I tell you about Tarth and how to handle my father?" Her eyes had a rare twinkle to them. "You might enjoy that."
"I'd like that," he said, relieved the nastiness was over and done with. At least for now.
Brienne – In her chamber
Jaime had gone back to his own chamber a few minutes ago. He had slept a few nights beside her – she had held his arm like she had before – and he'd been grateful for it. She knew that her confession earlier that evening was the reason he wasn't here now. Her bed was cold tonight. Sleeping side by side had increased those thoughts, she thought, how could they not? It had been wonderful to have him beside her. To feel his warmth, his breath. Their bodies meeting briefly when one of them tossed or turned. But mostly to have him there. Safe and sound beside her. They'd part tomorrow and she wouldn't be able to keep an eye on him anymore. To attend to him. She almost got out of bed to enter his chambers like he had hers some nights ago. But she did not. Something stopped her. Was it Cersei? Was it Tormund? Or Jaime himself? His eloquent no. His longing for Cersei still; even after everything she had done. He loved her despite everything, yet he also cared for her. He'd said so. Deeply he had said. But love he had said not. There had been moments, he had said. Moments where they'd might have. Brienne closed her eyes in pain. But even during those moments were he might have, he hadn't, she thought. He had not. She took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself down. Perhaps it was not so bad they would part again. Being with him was draining, draining and agonizing. It was time for that to end. For her calm and her strength to return.
Jaime – Saying goodbye
The horses were saddled. This was his last chance to speak. Podrick was already on his horse and eager to leave but Brienne kept lingering. He regretted not staying with her last night. He should have. He should have given her what she so strongly desired. Why hadn't he?
Jaime knew why. It would have been cruel. False hope. He was to leave and not return for a long time. She shouldn't pine for him. He was no prize. He shouldn't give her anything to pine for. And with that thought he resolutely stepped forward and embraced her. He held her for a brief moment, firmly planted a quick kiss on her cheek, and gruffly said: "If he's worthy of you, this wildling, give him a chance, will you?"
Her eyes grew wide. He nodded sternly at her. "Your life is in the North now," he said with commanding eyes. "Live it." A part of him already regretted saying it as the words escaped his lips but she deserved to be happy. To have love in her life, even if it meant he would not.
She nodded back, still a little stunned. "Remember our Words," she replied. "The ones I told you. Of the Isle."
"I will," he promised. "I won't forget."
Brienne mounted her horse and they left. Jaime watched until he couldn't see them anymore. Think about our words, she had said. The Words of the house of Tarth that were hinted at in their sigil: after night cometh day. Jaime swallowed hard. "After night cometh day," he mumbled. "If only it were true." He too mounted his horse and rode off into the opposite direction. On his way to an isle he'd seen only once. The isle that she belonged to.
