A/N: As promised, here is a second chapter. This one is longer than the one I posted last night and quite a fun one to write. It features Jaime and Bran's point of view. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 11: Confession

Jaime

When the battle was over and done with, Jaime found himself in more danger than ever before. He stood once again in the halls of Riverrun, where the surviving armies had retreated. Here, he found himself looking upon powerful people who might want him dead. Edmuere, lord of Riverrun, once again in control of his castle. Jon Snow...that boy had never been fond of him. Sansa Stark, who must have developed a hatred for all Lannisters. Jaime had even pushed their brother out a window. Did they know about that? He bloody hoped not.

But more importantly, there was Daenerys Targaryan.

Years ago-so many years that it seemed like another lifetime-he had struck her father down from behind. Now he found himself staring at another Targaryan ruler. This one had dragons and greater armies. She reminded him of Rhaegar Targaryan, her older brother. She was not mad but she was strong. She might want vengeance for her father's death.

Not to mention Jaime was the bearer of the bad news of Cersei's betrayal. He would rather be facing down the army of the dead again.

"You say your sister broke her word," Daenerys said. Her voice was cool and controlled. "Then why are you here? And why should I trust you?"

"An excellent question...your grace," Jaime said slowly. "I'm here because I gave my word to you. I took that oath more seriously than Cersei."

"Apparently," Daenerys said. "But how do I know that for sure? This could be some kind of trap. Lannisters are schemers. Our families have a poor history."

"That we can agree on," Jaime inclined his head.

"You don't have a history of keeping to oaths, Kingslayer," Jon said. "No one gets that title by keeping all of their oaths."

"No. No one does," Jaime said. "Sometimes oaths are meant to be broken. Technically speaking, I broke an oath to my queen to come here. You, Lord Snow, broke your oath to the Night's Watch to reenter Westeros politics. As for you, your grace," Jaime turned his eyes to the Targaryan girl. "I don't know what sorts of oaths you swore, but I guarantee you had to break many of them to get here."

"I have only broken oaths when absolutely necessary," Daenerys said tightly.

"As have I," Jaime held her gaze. He wondered if he would see a mad streak from her here.

"If I may interject," Tyrion said. "Jaime did bring Lannister armies to our aid. Without those soldiers, we would have lost many more lives. Imprisoning him seems poor repayment."

"Keeping ones word does not require payment. And while I appreciate your advice, I believe you are too close to this situation to judge it properly, Lord Tyrion," Daenerys said. "Jaime Lannister was among those who conspired against my family and brought them to ruin."

"Conspired," Jaime muttered under his breath. As if his murder of her father had been premeditated. Everyone always treated his king slaying that way. No one ever saw the act for what it was. A desperate play to save the city and everyone in it. Ned Stark had once looked at him with the same judgmental eyes.

"He murdered his king, my father. If I accepted him, he might murder me too. I have my father's blood."

"Hopefully not too much of it," Jaime said through gritted teeth.

"Do you deny the charges laid before you?" Daenerys asked.

"No," Jaime said. "No I don't deny that I stabbed your father in the back. Nor do I regret it. If you took me back to that moment one hundred times I would choose to end him in every single instance. Without hesitation." Jaime took a step forward, ignoring how the soldiers around the room stepped with him, lowering their blades. "But you are wrong about one thing. I did not plot. I did not conspire. I've never been good at any of those things. Ask Tyrion. Our father found my scheming very disappointing."

"You killed my father just after your father tricked him into opening the gates," Daenerys said.

"Which I urged the King not to do, because I knew my father came with bad intentions," Jaime said. "I gave your father council and I did protect him until I no longer could."

"Until you chose your family over your king. With Cersei against me, you could do the same again."

"I did not choose family over my king!" Jaime snapped. Rage boiled up inside of him. This was the same as it always was. Like explaining himself to a stone wall. No one was prepared to hear his reasons.

"Then what do you call it?" Daenerys asked. "You might as well make your confession here, ser. What do you call your choice?"

Jaime seethed. Hang them all. If he died today, he would be heard first. "I call it justice. I call it necessary. When I stabbed your wretched father in the back he was calling for his pyromancer to set fire to the city. To light ablaze the wild fire stored all about. He wanted to go out in a blaze and take every man, woman and child in King's Landing with him. He screamed 'burn them all'. He had been screaming it for hours. 'Burn them all. Burn them all." Jaime roared the words with nearly the same intensity as King Aerys that day. "So I killed the pyromancer. And I killed him. And King's Landing still stands to this day. Do I really have to explain to you, why I made that choice?"

A long silence hung in the hall. Jaime had never truly told the story to so many before. He had told it to his siblings. He had told it to Brienne in the baths. But never to this many because he thought they wouldn't believe him. It exhausted him now, laying that awful moment bare for all to see. The day he was reborn the Kingslayer. He rested his left hand over his forehead.

"I don't tell you this story to gain some sort of honor. Honor is meaningless now. I'm here because I want to protect the living. That is an oath I took a very long time ago. You can kill me if you wish. You can loathe me and call me foul names like everyone else has done for years. And while you do... the army of the dead is coming for a second battle." He glared up at the dragon queen. "Is that a proper confession?"

Daenerys gripped the edge of her seat. Tyrion looked tensely at her, waiting for the word. The entire room was taut with tension, like a bow string ready to loose. Ultimately, the Dragon Queen would have the final word on his fate. Jon Snow would not disagree with her, since he was so clearly in love with the woman. None of the Starks would disagree either. Jaime was at this woman's mercy.

"I know my father was mad," Daenerys said at last. "For a time, Ser Barristan Selmy served at my side. He told me stories about what he did." She raised her chin. "If what you say is true, then you made a noble choice. But no one was there to see it, were they?"

"No," Jaime said. "It doesn't make it any less true. The white walkers marched long before we knew anything about it. They're still real."

Daenerys inspected him. "The past seems to matter less and less when the future looks so bleak. You honored your pledge to ride North, and that action did save the lives of many soldiers. For that reason, I will postpone judgement of your past actions."

Jaime let out a surprised breath. He really didn't think shouting at the Dragon Queen like a madman would help his cause.

"You will always have eyes on you, however," Daenerys said. "So I don't recommend breaking any more oaths."

"Not unless absolutely necessary," Jaime bowed his head. "Thank you...your grace." It felt strange to call a Targaryan that again. However, he could see that she was not her father. Her father would have murdered him for raising his voice in such a way. Cersei might have to for that matter. This woman still had a faint kindness in her that the world had not quite driven out.

For now, her mercy had bought him another day in this world.

Not long after Daenerys released him from the main hall, Tyrion found Jaime standing atop the west wall. Jaime knew his brother by his footsteps before he even opened his mouth.

"Diplomacy never was your specialty," Tyrion said. "You're lucky Daenerys appreciates honesty."

"I'm surprised she believed me," Jaime said.

"Your story was in line with tales she heard of her father," Tyrion said. "And you did help us. I supposed you could be plotting with Cersei, but then, why would you have told us of her betrayal?"

Jaime gave him a tired smile. "I would have to be stupid. Which I suppose I am. The stupidest Lannister." He leaned over the wall. "That's what Cersei called me before I left. I think she nearly had me killed on the spot."

"It just goes to show how far she has fallen," Tyrion said. "If she hates you, no one is safe."

"She keeps surprising me," Jaime said. "She destroyed the sept of Baelor with wild fire. She blew it to pieces with many lords and ladies inside of it. She killed Uncle Kevan. She killed Tommen too, I suppose. Indirectly." He stared at the water. "When I returned to King's Landing and saw that scar across the city I remembered Aerys. I remembered how he called for all of his enemies to burn. I never thought I would see Cersei do the same."

"I did," Tyrion said. "But then, I wasn't blinded by love."

Jaime didn't even have a retort to that. He had been blinded for too long. Now he was finally seeing things clearly. It was easier to breathe all the way out here, far away from Cersei's toxic air.

"I had faith in you though," Tyrion said. "I had faith you would ride north. You're a much better person than Cersei, though the bar is set very low. I think you might be a better person than me too."

"I doubt it," Jaime shook his head.

"You've done terrible things, yes. We all have," Tyrion said. "But evil deeds never seemed to sit right on your shoulders. You always seemed to be...playing at it. Trying to imitate father."

"I was never very good at that," Jaime admitted. "You were always more like him."

"I'm not sure how to take that." Tyrion stepped up closer to the wall. "Do you still hate me for what I did?"

"Somewhat," Jaime said. "But I don't have much time for that right now. There are other things on my mind."

"I'm sure there are." Tyrion glanced to the side. "I hope you're prepared for another thing to add to the list."

Jaime turned as he sensed another presence nearby. A girl with dark hair and pale skin stopped before them, her hands tucked behind her back. Jaime recognized her look. She was a Stark. Arya Stark, who he had long assumed dead.

"Ser Jaime," she said coolly. "My brother wishes to see you."

Jaime felt his stomach lurch. "Ah...which one."

"Bran," Arya said. "Follow me please."

Damn, Jaime thought as the icy feeling of dread spread throughout his body. I may have celebrated my survival too soon.

Jaime followed Arya down the halls, his shoulders tensed. If she knew about his role in Bran's fall, she didn't say a word. She had a stony expression, much different from the snarling child she used to be. He hadn't ever spoken to her but he remembered her standing before the King, calling Joffery a liar without hesitation. He remembered how she used to scamper about the castle, chasing cats. There was even talk of her learning to fight, though people treated it as a joke.

Now, she rested a practiced hand on the dagger on her belt. Jaime had a sixth sense that it wasn't for show. Her wild energy was controlled. That made her dangerous.

At last, Arya stopped outside a room, opening the door. "He's waiting for you. He asked to speak with you alone."

Brave of him, Jaime thought. Most children would not wish to speak with their almost murderer alone.

"I'll be waiting out here," Arya said. "So that you know."

"Noted," Jaime inclined his head. My, she had gotten frightening.

He entered the room slowly, waiting for some kind of trap. He was almost surprised to actually find Bran alone, sitting in a chair, looking out the window. He so still he could almost be asleep. And though it had only been a few years since their last encounter, Bran looked as if he had aged at least ten. His face was solemn and his eyes were like that of an old man.

Jaime didn't know what to do or what to say. What could he say? What could he give as his defense? That he did it for love? That would not satisfy the Starks. It didn't even satisfy him anymore.

"Hello, Ser Jaime," Bran said at last. "It's been a long time."

"It has, hasn't it?" Jaime managed. "I see you survived the Greyjoy invasion. And the Boltons."

"And the far North, beyond the wall," Bran traced his fingers across the arm of his chair. "And falling out a window." He looked at Jaime then, with a pointed gaze. Jaime did not like his calmness.

"You remember then," Jaime said.

"I remember lots of things," Bran said. "I remember things that happened before I was born. I remember things from the distant future."

"Ah," Jaime replied. He did not know what else to say. Did the boy speak in riddles now or was he being serious? "But...more specifically..."

"Yes, I remember the day you shoved me out of a window," Bran said calmly.

Jaime's jaw clenched. "I...suppose I should apologize for that. Though I'm not sure my apology will mean much to you."

"An apology does not change the past," Bran said. "That's where everything started you know. In Winterfell over those few days, that's where everything began. The tension between my family and yours. The war of five kings. It all started at Winterfell, I part because I decided to climb exactly the wrong tower at exactly the wrong moment." Bran looked back out the window. "Small decisions can make large differences."

"They can," Jaime agreed. "But I'm curious...If you remember so much, why am I still alive? Have you not told your family?"

"It wouldn't be wise to kill you," Bran said. "You're a vital piece in this great war. For that reason, no, I haven't told my family. I cannot expect them to understand. Especially Arya. She hates you enough already, by virtue of your name."

"I noticed that," Jaime said. "Wisdom or not, you would be within your rights to take revenge for your legs."

"I don't mourn the loss of my legs. And I don't resent you for that day," Bran said. "It was important, you see. If I hadn't lost my legs I never would have begun my journey to the North. I would not have become the three eyed raven. Sometimes we must lose a great deal before we find ourselves. Haven't you learned that?"

Jaime was suddenly very aware of the golden hand at his wrist. Yes, he knew that. He thought he had lost himself the day he lost his hand. But who would he be if he hadn't?

"The story you told in the great hall today," Bran said. "About the mad king..."

"It's not a story," Jaime murmured.

"I know it isn't. I've seen it. I'm the only one who knows for sure that you are telling the truth," Bran said. "Because of a split second decision, you saved many lives. You have a habit of making split second decisions with dramatic results." Bran tilted his head to the side. "I hope you will continue to do so. And I hope those results will be to our advantage."

"So, you think I have a role to play in this conflict. That's why you let me live," Jaime said.

"I know you have a role to play in this conflict," Bran said. "And is not my business to decide if you live. It's yours. I'm only a watcher."

Jaime swallowed hard. "The three eyed raven has made you dreadfully grim, Bran."

Bran looked back to the window. "I know."

The door opened and Arya entered. "Bran. There's someone here to see you. Meera Reed, she calls herself. Her family evacuated and came here."

"Of course. We're done here, Arya," Bran said. He gave her a look. "You'll have no need of your knife here."

She didn't reply. She simply motioned for Jaime to follow her again. They passed a girl as they walked down the hall. Jaime wondered if she was the daughter of Howlyn Reed.

"Lannister," Arya said sharply.

Jaime turned to look at the girl.

"You should know that it is only by Bran's request that I don't gut you," Arya said. "And I assure you I could. If I hear even the slightest hint of you plotting against my family, I will add you to my list. And you won't stay there long."

"I have no intention of plotting against your family," Jaime said. "I've never been good at plotting, and I'd rather use what wits I have against the dead."

"Good," Arya said coolly stepping back from him. "Be careful. I have many faces and many eyes, Lannister. They will all be watching you."

With that she turned and strode off down the hall.

Jaime released a breath, feeling his heart pounding in his rib cage. Half of the Starks had been killed in previous wars. The ones who had survived had grown into fearsome wolves.

Even lions would be no match for them.

Bran

Bran had expected to feel something when he spoke to Jaime Lannister. Some flash of fear or anger for the man who had destroyed his legs and his dreams of being a knight. He felt none of that though. The boy he used to be was so distant from him that it felt like he was speaking through a corpse. A body that used to be Bran, who had long since passed on.

Meera had said as much to him before she left. "You died in that cave." Bran had agreed with her in some way.

Now, she stood before him again, her lips pressed into a thin white line. And he did feel something. A very distant flash of sympathy and maybe even fondness for a girl who had dragged him to safety. She had faith in him. In Bran. But he could not give her the old Bran. His mind had unfolded into so much more than that.

"I'm glad to see you safe," Bran said.

"Are you?" Meera asked. "I didn't know you could be glad anymore."

"I can be. I'm just not very good at it," Bran said. "I knew that you managed to evacuate in time. I could see it."

"Naturally," Meera said. He read the anger in her face. She wanted more warmth from him or maybe an apology. He wished he knew how to give either and sound sincere.

"Why did you come?" Bran asked. "Did you need to speak to me?"

"I'm not sure why I came," Meera said. "Maybe I wanted to believe my last memory of you was a lie. That I might find the old Bran again. I see I was foolish to think that."

She turned and started to go. Bran lifted his hand.

"Wait."

She stopped but did not turn around.

"I'm sorry," he said. His voice was flat but he meant it. "I'm sorry I can't give you the boy I used to be. Without you I never would have reached my destination or returned home. You deserve gratitude for that."

Meera's shoulders hitched. "That journey took so much away from me. I lost my brother. I had to go home and tell everyone that he had died." She turned around to face him, her eyes glassy. "He believed in your cause. He believed we were doing something important. Maybe we were. I just wasn't prepared to lose everything this way."

"I know," Bran said. "You've suffered a great deal." He looked out the window. "I don't feel much anymore. But I know the boy in me was always fond of you. Grateful. He would have done a much better job of expressing it all. But he's so hazy in my mind. You weren't wrong...to say I died in that cave."

Meera let out a shaky breath. "You've suffered too, Bran. Even if you can't feel it." She took a step toward him. "Do you think there is any way you will ever feel like yourself again?"

Bran shook his head. "No. I could learn to feel more clearly again. But I can't go back. We can never go back."

Meera nodded once. "My brother and I swore to protect you. My house has elected to fight against the dead. So I will continue to keep my promise no matter who you are now."

Faintly, in his chest, Bran felt something like warmth. It was so distant but still noticeable. When she reached out to take his hand, he accepted it, squeezing her fingers.

If we live, perhaps I could learn to be a boy again.

If we die, then it won't matter.

A/N: Ah, the long expected reunion of Jaime and Bran. 'Twas entertaining to write. Jaime is also in my top three favorite characters so, you know, I'm invested.

Next time we will have Arya and Jon's perspectives! We're going to go back to weekly updates cause I have that job thing. Until next week!