The throne room was full of people, and Brienne made her way through the crowd, in a deafening silence. Nobody was talking, nobody was moving. Casting glances left and right, she noticed then that each and every person present was a wight, an undead creature like the one she had seen in the Dragon Pit. Her hand resting on the pommel of her sword, she kept moving forward, towards the end of the room. She suddenly heard a piercing cry, followed by another, and another. She finally stopped, the vision unfolding before her leaving her horrified. Standing near the throne, Cersei Lannister overlooked the assembly, a cold smile on her face, the green, dreadful light of wildfire dancing in her eyes. Not far from her, a humane shape was engulfed in flames, twisting and screaming bloodcurdling screams. Her long hair was ablaze, her dress was consumed by green flames, and her crown, half stag and half roses, was starting to melt, burning her beautiful face. There was nothing Brienne could do as she watched Margaery Tyrell burn before her eyes.

Apart from her screams, the room was completely silent. A chilling smile still on her lips, Cersei looked around her, and Brienne stood frozen on the spot when her green eyes, in which the wildfire reflected, looked directly at her. Joffrey's wedding, Cersei calling after her and talking to her… Everything came back. "But you love him", she had told her.

Cersei suddenly moved, walking towards the throne, and when she sat down, she changed, Daenerys Targaryen now facing the room. Her face showed no emotion, and her eyes were staring across the room, observing something that Brienne could not see. Her skin turned completely white, contrasting with the dark colours of her dress. The throne room darkened, and Brienne looked up to see the blackened remains of the ceiling, entirely burned by dragon fire, a vision which immediately reminded her of the ruins of Harrenhal.

And then, the undead were suddenly burning all around her and she fled, blinded by the light, almost feeling the warmth of the flames on her face. Oathkeeper swinging at her side, she ran and ran, finally finding herself standing in a terribly familiar place. Renly's tent was completely deserted. The only sign of him was his crown, more massive and imposing than Margaery's, placed on a table. Brienne approached it, and she was almost touching it when a violent gust of wind blew through the tent, and Brienne quickly turned around, unsheathing her sword to face the shadow of Stannis Baratheon. But Renly's tent had disappeared, and she was now standing on the snowy plain of Winterfell, and she thought the icy wind would freeze her to death.

All around her, the battle raged between the living and the dead. In the distance, she could see the shapes of several dragons fighting against each other, high, so high in the sky, above the towers of the castle. Several wights were walking towards her, and she rushed in their direction to strike them down, the valyrian steel of her sword cutting through air and bones. They all collapsed on the ground, revealing the distant shape of the man she loved, fighting for his dear life against a creature she had never seen, all blue eyes and white skin, looking like an ice god. She began to run to reach him, moving far too slowly in this white, silent inferno, where the only sound she could hear was the beating of her own heart. She rushed to them, but everything happened as fast as a lightning strike.

The White Walker Jaime was fighting pierced his body with its icy spear and Jaime collapsed on the ground. Screaming in despair and agony, Brienne had barely time enough to kneel in the snow, dropping her sword, to catch him in her arms. Everything got blurred, mixed and confused in her head: Renly dying in her arms, Jaime fainting in her arms in the hot baths of Harrenhal… and now Jaime lying in her arms again, in the middle of the storm, his eyes never leaving hers as life was leaving his body… Brienne pressed him harder against her, and a long, harrowing scream of pain, grief and regret escaped her throat.

"No, Jaime… please… I can't lose you too… I beg you, please… Jaime… Jaime…"

Brienne awoke with a half-choked cry, her throat so tight she could scarcely breathe, the palms of her hands sweating, her heart racing. She sat up briskly in her bed, her eyes scanning the dark room as she was trying to come to her senses. A sudden noise right beside her startled her, and everything came back to her mind, awakening in her such emotions as she had never felt before, a wave threatening to overwhelm her. After drawing his last breath in her arms, leaving her sobbing and screaming in the snow, Jaime was now right beside her, invading her personal space, his nearness both calming her and making her feel completely disarmed. Yet she couldn't see him, nor even discern his figure in the complete darkness of the room.

But he had rushed to her, and she could feel his intoxicating presence, guessing that he was kneeling near her bed, bis breathing so close, so loud, his hand searching for hers and, finally founding it, caressing it slowly, pressing it in the furs of her bed, his voice reassuring and full of a tenderness that made her heart ache. "Brienne… I am right here, with you… It was just a bad dream… I am here, Brienne…"

He stopped talking but his hand was still on hers, and the feeling of his fingers on her skin, while making the terrible visions of her nightmare slowly disappear, made her heart pound almost painfully in her chest. Grateful for the obscurity that hid the tears swelling in her eyes, she finally came back completely to reality. Jaime's thumb was now tenderly stroking her knuckles, a gesture giving her goose bumps that, she hoped, he wouldn't notice. He certainly only meant to soothe her, but this tenderness brought all of her feelings to the surface, and when her dream came back to her mind once more, it was more than she could bear. But at that exact moment, she felt Jaime's fingers let go of hers, leaving her both relieved and desperate, immediately craving for his touch again.

She heard him slowly stand up and the noises she heard next made her realize he was trying to light up a candle, which took some time with only one hand. A moment later, a flickering flame was springing up to life. Dancing shadows came to life on the walls of the room, but Brienne had eyes only for him. His face bathed in golden light, the flame brought out his perfect features, his blond-silver hair and beard… This vision took her breath away, and at that moment Jaime turn to her, still holding the candle. She immediately looked away, angry at herself for her lack of self-control.

She felt Jaime coming close again and heard him put the candleholder on the table near her bed, already occupied by her basin of water. He knelt near her once more and took her hand in his again, apparently decided to keep torturing her.

"Brienne…"

She had no choice, but to turn her eyes to look at him, gently withdrawing her hand from his grasp at the same time. He suddenly seemed sad, so sad, sad and tired. But she just couldn't risk betraying her confused state, and she concealed her slightly shaking hands under the furs that covered her.

"I am sorry if I woke you up…"

"Are you all right, Brienne?"

He stared at her with a questioning look, visibly worried about her. She nodded briefly, eyes locked with his, refusing to think back to her horrible nightmare. She had to be strong, she had to be Brienne again, the woman she had always been, calm and in control of her emotions. There was no place for her feelings in these circumstances… even if she knew, deep within herself, that she would do anything to prevent her dreadful dream from happening.

"My nightmare was quite… it seemed so real. But everything's fine, I assure you."

She forced herself to smile, ever so slightly. But he didn't seem convinced and was still looking at her, the worry plain on his handsome face.

"You… You spoke in your sleep… It sounded as though you were suffering… Are you sure you are all right?"

A wave of panic took hold of her. Had he heard her mourning for him, crying his name…? Her throat dry and tightened, she escaped his gaze once more, those eyes staring at her in a way that seemed reserved just for her. It was too much for her, she had to put an end to this conversation. Unable to lock eyes with him again, she stared at the flame of the candle instead.

"I dreamt of the army of the dead, Ser Jaime… I think it's no wonder, given the situation… But everything's fine, I am fine. You can go back to sleep, I won't disturb you again."

"All right. I'll leave the candle lit, if it can help you sleep."

She closed her eyes, lowered herself on her pillow and nodded. She seemed calm and relaxed, but she was not. Her heart was still beating fast as a galloping horse when Jaime rose again to get back to his bed. Her eyes were still closed when he spoke again, the sound of his voice sending a shiver down her spine.

"Good night, Brienne. Try to sleep."

"You too, Ser Jaime."

Minutes went by. The fire in the hearth was long extinguished, and Brienne suddenly realized she was very cold now that Jaime was not next to her anymore. Snuggling in her covers and furs, she tried to get back to sleep, but she couldn't. How? Jaime had died in her dream… He had held and stroked her hand, and this simple gesture had awakened in her everything she so desperately tried to conceal… She had cried his name aloud and he had heard her…

Minutes or hours passed, she could not have said. When she judged dawn was near and the castle would wake soon, she stood up and silently dressed, before leaving the room and closing the door softly behind her.