I came to Winterfell because…
Jaime looked around before sneaking down into the crypts below Winterfell. He'd never been in them before, never had reason or interest in seeing them. What did he care for old bones, especially those that would only serve to torment him?
I came to Winterfell because…
He crept down the stair and lifted a torch from the wall, feeling more secure with a light in his own hand than trusting the torches on the wall to stay lit. He'd had too many dreams of darkness, too many dreams where the light had failed him, to feel particularly trusting. Dreams that always seemed to bring him the maid of Tarth. The damned wench wouldn't leave him alone, even in sleep. She was tireless in her efforts to save him. And why? Why did she care? Why had she always cared. What could she possibly see that she found so redeemable, so worth fighting for, when the rest of the world saw only the Kingslayer?
I came to Winterfell because…
He stopped before the statue of Rickard Stark. He didn't need to see a name to recognize the prideful jaunt of his chin. That pride had never left him. Not even as the mad king burned him with wildfire.
It hadn't been the first time Jaime had seen the mad king burn a man alive, but it was the one that still haunted him. Not so much because of the burning. He'd grown accustomed to the sight and smells of a man being burned alive. No… it was because of Brandon Stark. Brandon Stark with a noose around his neck and a sword just out of his reach. A brave and stupid man who had strangled himself in the effort to save his father.
Jaime had seen in Brandon's eyes that he knew the futility of his efforts even as he struggled, but still he struggled. He'd killed himself rather than admit his inability to save someone he loved.
When the Kingsguard had finally been allowed to leave the throne room, Jaime had been sick in his chamberpot while his white cloak lay on the back of a chair, mocking him with it's purity.
I came to Winterfell because…
He continued down until he reached the statue of Ned Stark. Lord Eddard Stark, the righteous prick himself. The statue was a piss-poor copy of the man. Jaime couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if he'd just told Ned what had really happened in the throne room. If he had confessed that he killed the king to save the city, would it have mattered? Would it have stopped Stark from looking at him like the piece of shit he believed him to be? Would it have eased the hostility between Lannister and Stark? Might it have prevented some of the deaths that followed? Could it have saved Myrcella or Tommen? Could it have saved countless other innocent children who died needlessly?
It was too late to trouble himself over such notions, but they still troubled him. He imagined that Ned would have seen him as an oathbreaker, regardless. all the justification aside, Jaime had sworn to protect the king and instead stabbed him in the back. That was something a man like Eddard Stark would never be able to condone. What did honor mean if you only kept your word when it proved easy? But Eddard Stark hadn't been there. What did honor matter when the world was about to go up in flames?
Brienne had understood.
Brienne had heard his confession in the baths at Harrenhal and absolved him of some of his self hatred with her understanding. Ever since, she had called him Ser Jaime, while the rest of the world sneered and called him a man without honor.
The lion does not concern himself with the opinions of the sheep. His father's old adage came back to him. He'd used those very words to excuse any number of sins. Almost as many as he'd excused in the name of love.
I came to Winterfell because…
And that was it, wasn't it? The call that had driven him North when sense and house loyalty demanded he stay in King's Landing.
As Catelyn Stark had once said, he'd forsaken every vow he'd ever taken. But not this one. Because for once in his accursed life, he wanted to do something in the name of love that wasn't hateful of wrong.
He'd come to Winterfell for one reason and one reason only, forsaking yet another conflicting vow. He'd come for Brienne. To protect her if he could and to die fighting by her side if he couldn't.
Gods… she was a good woman. What a cruel trick of fate for the gods to finally teach him to love someone who wasn't Cersei, and to make her a good woman.
"The things I do for love." He whispered to Ned's statue as though confiding in an old friend. He imagined this, if nothing else, the long dead Lord Stark might understand.
Jaime made his way across the courtyard of Winterfell. He still felt useless in this bustling place. The unsullied dug trenches and set up catapults behind them out beyond the wall. Good. He was glad to see that this lot was less a bunch of fools than the Freys. From what he'd heard and seen of the dead and their numbers, this was no battle to be waged in an open field. This was a siege to be outlasted. They needed defenses to hold an unstoppable onslaught at bay, until the dragon queen and Jon Snow could melt the Night King with dragon fire… if they could take him down with dragon fire. "Maybe" wasn't his idea of a sound battle plan, but it was all they had.
"You're Jaime Lannister." Someone called out behind him.
This stopped Jaime in his tracks. Usually it was Kingslayer or Oathbreaker… not Jaime. He looked back and his heart nearly stopped in his chest. It was like looking at a ghost. Robert Baratheon raised from the dead, twenty years younger, before he drove himself to an early with endless drinking, whoring, and eating (perhaps helped along by some scheming on Cersei's part. Jaime didn't know. He'd never wanted to ask.).
"And you are?"
"Gendry Waters, ser." The young man said. His face was smudged with grim and his arms glistened with sweat despite the icy chill. The only logical explanation being that he'd come from somewhere hotter. The armory, Jaime concluded.
There was no doubt in his mind that the young man before him was one of Robert's many bastards. Despite Cersei's best efforts, it seemed they had not been completely wiped out.
"And what do you want from me?" Jaime asked, despite having no where to be, he didn't want to linger in this conversation. Seeing a ghost from his past had unsettled him more than he cared to admit. He didn't want to be drawn back into the past, into Cersei. He just wanted to see Brienne. To tell her… To tell her what? That he loved her? No. He couldn't just spit it out like that. She'd been alarmed at him not insulting her, if he suddenly attempted to pour his heart out to her she'd think it was a cruel jest. He needed a better plan. He needed a way to show her beyond a shadow of a doubt that his regard was real and had been for a long time.
The boy scratched the back of his head uneasily, clearly sensing Jaime's dislike and eagerness to get away.
"Out with it." Jaime said impatiently.
"I heard you were the greatest swordsman in Westeros." Gendry blurted out.
Jaime lifted his golden hand. "That was a long time ago."
"But if you could wield a sword right handed…" Gendry pressed. "Do you think you'd still have it?"
Jaime frowned at the question. It seemed an impossible proposition. Not even Qyborn had been able to return what he'd lost. But, if there was a way… If he could fight right handed again… did he still have it?
"I don't have time for ifs and maybes." Jaime snapped. "I'm a middle-aged knight with one hand. I'm not going to be winning any wars."
"I think I could fashion you a device, not like that lump of gold. Something useful." Gendry said, taking a step toward Jaime. "Will you let me try?"
Jaime felt the familiar ache in his stump, a longing for the hand and fingers that it would never get used to being without.
"And what if you can't?" Jaime asked, afraid to even entertain the hope.
"What do you have to lose?"
Jaime left the armory's sweltering heat most of an hour later, leaving Widow's Wail with the blacksmith. He wondered briefly if it had all been an elaborate trick on the part of Robert's bastard's to get his hands on a valerian steel blade for the battle ahead. Somehow, Jaime doubted it. When he'd left, the boy was already furiously scribbling out design ideas.
What do you have to lose?
It was a fair question. But Jaime wondered if the more appropriate questions wasn't: what do you have to gain? And what did he have to gain? A usable sword hand? Even if Gendry managed to do the impossible, Jaime highly doubted that his right arm would have the strength to wield a sword, let alone wield it well.
Sure, he was always lugging around the solid gold hand which was heavier than most people would expect, but once he trained for hours a day to keep up his skills. Those skill no doubt had atrophied just as he was sure the muscles had. It would be a lesson in futility. Yet another reminder of what he'd lost and what he could never be again.
His best was long behind him. And he was done with looking back.
"Ser Jaime." A familiar voice called out to him. He spotted Brienne striding toward him, one hand resting on the hilt of Oathkeeper. The lion suited her. Nearly as awe-inspiring and courageous as she was.
"Lady Brienne." He gave her a slight bow of his head.
She made a face as though trying to decide to take this a respect or mockery. The silly wench. So used to being mocked she didn't even know how to recognize sincerity.
"In the war counsel…" She started. "You volunteered to defend Bran Stark in the Godswood."
"I did."
She frowned. "That… was noble of you."
"But?" He pressed.
"You will not be under my command." She said.
"You won't be at the godswood?"
"I will not."
Jaime felt a sinking sensation in his chest. He hadn't even considered that when he'd made the offer. Part of him had simply assumed that wherever he fought, Brienne would also be.
And what if… what if in the midst of the battle, she needed him. What if she died because he wasn't there to save her?
"I had intended to fight beside you." He told her.
She nodded, and he could see in her eyes that she had intended the same. Were the very same thoughts in her head now? He saw fear. Not of dying, but perhaps of failing. Of failing once again as she had with Renly.
We don't get to choose who we love.
Jaime felt sure than that she loved him too. But he was just as certain that she wouldn't believe his words is he assured her of his regard. No… Words had never been their strong suit.
"Stay alive, Brienne of Tarth." Jaime said, placing his hand over hers on the hilt of Oathkeeper.
Her stunningly blue eyes held his for a long moment before she nodded. He nodded back and reluctantly withdrew his hand.
Robert's bastard had better be on to something, because he had no intention of letting the Maid of Tarth fall during the Long Night. Even if he had to take on the entirety of the army of the dead, literally, single-handed.
Just a reminder, I own nothing! If I did, I'd drive a nicer car!
Also, just a quick aside, I had a reader who was discontent with the length of the previous chapter and the shift of focus from the "main" characters. I just want to set the expectation that chapter lengths will vary. If I have a scene needed and that's all I have to write from a certain character's POV at that point in the story, it will be a short chapter. Sorry in advance if you find those shorter updates disappointing!
As for shifting focus from the "main" characters, I'm trying to write a multi POV narrative in the vein of both G.R.R. Martian's books and the series. This means that I have subplots for these non-"main" characters that I feel are important to the story as a whole. I'm sorry if that's not the story you want to read, but the story I want to tell is bigger than any one "main" character.
Thank you for all the support for this story! I'm writing it because I'm desperate for a different ending, but I'm posting because you are all so wonderful! I love that you're all so engaged! I wish I could devote myself to writing this story full time so that I could give you daily updates, but alas... life. Fortunately, I am about done with my class, so that will be one less item on my plate!
Hmmm... apparently I'm in a chatty mood. I'll stop there and save the rest of my words for the story! ;)
Please review!