Sansa Stark is pissed. It's frustrating to be the only one right, almost all the time, but who is obliged to sit back at Winterfell and watch all hell unfurl. She's itching to tell her idiot half-brother - well, really, cousin - a big fat I told you so, that Daenerys is not a trustworthy queen, but he's still stuck somewhere en route from the South and she does not know if he is dead or alive. She told Arya not to go to King's Landing to meddle with everything else, but obviously her younger sister did not listen, so now she doesn't know if Arya is dead or alive either. And she practically begged Jon to not take all the Northern troops with him, to leave at least a quarter for the defense of the North, but that plead went to deaf ears. Left with only Winterfell's own city guard to defend against an impending dragon assault, it's no wonder the Lady of Winterfell has her mouth perpetually set in a grim line nowadays.
It does not help Sansa's mood that now she sits facing the entrance of one of her least favorite men in the realm: Jaime Lannister. Make no mistake, Jaime fought in the Battle of Winterfell and Sansa thanked him for that; but so did many other people; so did, for example, Daenerys, who now wants all of them dead. So strategically, thinks Sansa, the battle against the dead must mean nothing for the politics among the living. Sansa knows too much about what Jaime Lannister has done, and associates him with too much else, for her to ever be able to see him face-to-face without an unpleasant taste in her mouth. She would never trust any Lannister man, woman, or child. However, Sansa knows, too, that Jaime is not here for her.
"Lady Sansa," says Jaime, bowing deeply. "I'm sorry for disturbing your audience."
"Ser Jaime," says Sansa curtly. "What brings you back to the North, if I may ask? We are currently preparing for war, and have no time to deal with demands from House Lannister."
"I understand," says Jaime reasonably. "Well, the situation stands as this: Daenerys Targaryen butchered the Lannister army, massacred the common people of King's Landing, caused the exile of my sister Cersei, and it is uncertain if she has executed my brother Tyrion under some pretense of treason. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, I'm sure you know this, Lady Sansa. House Lannister and House Stark have many past debts to settle, and if I have an army with me, I will gladly lead it to fight for Jon Snow. However, we no longer have an army; therefore I offer you, just myself." Jaime pauses. "And as I'm sure you have surmised, this is not the chief reason I am here."
Sansa narrows her eyes. "And if I may ask, what for are you here? For honor? Redemption? Or just a bit of good time?"
Of course Sansa has heard all about what happened between Brienne and Jaime. Brienne is the head of her Guard, and a deeply trusted friend and advisor. It hurt Sansa, too, to see Brienne after Jaime's departure; throwing herself into her work as if nothing has happened, hiding her pain deep inside. An ailment may have a thousand remedies, but a broken heart can only get better with time. Henceforth, under the orders of Sansa, no one at Winterfell ever speaks of the name Jaime Lannister within the hearing of Brienne. It has become a taboo name, and Jaime, a taboo man.
And now the taboo man has returned, and all of Winterfell bristles with anticipation: will this be a reconciliation, or will the Lannister man be deservedly thrown out into the wild?
Jaime closes his eyes, briefly, in pain. "For love, m'lady," he says quietly.
Sansa is silent for a moment. She has not known love in her time, not really. It touches her a little that this may be true. "Why did you go back for Cersei? You were the one who sent her to Pentos, weren't you?"
"Well, Tyrion and I both, to be honest," says Jaime. "Think a little of it as a parting gift for our dear sibling. I can never stop being Cersei's brother, m'lady, but," he draws out his sword, pointing it to the sky, "I can solemnly vow that I will not abandon Brienne of Tarth for any cause, reason, or motivation ever again."
Sansa waves her hand quickly. "You don't vow this in front of me," she says, having decided. "This is between Ser Brienne and yourself, and you would seek forgiveness from her. From my perspective, however, you have my permission to stay - in exchange for your service in the war campaign in defense of the North against Daenerys Targaryen." She stands up.
"Welcome back to Winterfell, Ser Jaime."
Jaime bows again. "Can I possibly request an audience with Ser Brienne?" He asks hopefully. "If you'll excuse me, it's rather ... urgent."
Sansa raises an eyebrow. "I can't promise that she'll see you, but I suppose there's no point delaying the inevitable, since you've already shown up here. Ser Brienne is attending to her duties at the training grounds."
Jaime's heart pounds heavily as he hurries out of the court of Lady Sansa, turning sharply to the left, over castles and battlements, to the training ground just behind the main courtyard of town. It's been over a month since he's last seen Brienne, during which the fate of Westeros has turnt twice over. To Jaime, however, this meeting feels as momentous as the collapse of the Red Keep, and as personally consequential. He has made up his mind that regardless of whether Brienne decides to accept him again, he will stay and make good of his promise to stay and defend Winterfell - and the vow, one-sided though it was, to defend and support and protect Brienne.
He has not always been this way, but from some unknown point in time onwards, Jaime's life has been lived from one vow to the next. Perhaps he wants to be the namesake for her sword - Oathkeeper - he does not intend to change this now.
Jaime turns another corner and there she is. The sun is setting and deep orange hues of the late evening color her light sandy hair, turning her armor golden. She stands tall amidst her troops, supervising their training, just like that day, so long ago, when he first arrived at Winterfell to join the forces of the living. Her soldiers cast quick glances at his approach, but otherwise stay silent. Brienne senses something amiss, and turns around.
Their eyes meet. The world stops for him, for just a moment, before he finds words again.
"Brienne. I am so, so sorry."
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And we're into uncharted territory! I'm not a writer by trade and I'm sure it shows. Thanks for continuing to read this! I'd also like to respond to a review: I will not apologize for my characterization of Jaime. Up until 8x05, everything has been left up in the air, any turn of characterization for anyone was possible. Just because D&D chose the most unlikely turn - to surprise the audience, no doubt - doesn't mean that has to be the only way. If you agree with their ending, I'm really happy for you, and would suggest that you go back and rewatch the show instead of wasting your time here. Thanks all for reading!