Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thanks for sticking around, and for leaving all of those likes and reviews. You are such kind people, even when I drag this out and update only so sporadically! Special thanks to iluvaqt, TimetravelingArchaeologist, and SixMagnitudeGirl, Barbysr, kellybailey1983, Apokoliptik, BreeDante23, elaine451, dearest Coque, and all you others who enjoy this story - for the overly kind and awesome reviews - and the advices! All's very much appreciated and loved dearly from the bottom of my heart.
So now, as concerns the new chapters: I tried my best to make this somewhat authentic in terms of escape - with the techniques Jaime and Brienne use, but it's fiction, so I take some liberties here and there.
I hope you'll enjoy anyway!
Much love!
*spoiler alert* don't like don't read: I take the liberty to have some of Theon spark up without the greater set-up the show itself gave to it. I build here more on the premise that he really has this one moment to just turn around and go away, trying to lead them away from Sansa.
I don't know if he will play a greater role later on, though. That is something only time will show.
After the more than risky endeavor of freeing Sansa with their personal version of the tale of brave young Danny Flint, the three find themselves, yet again, on the run.
Apparently, this will be their very state of existence for a longer time.
While they anticipated the worst case scenario, it's tougher than they estimated nevertheless, now not only with knights of the Vale closing in on them coming from the South, but also being chased by Bolton men coming from up North.
Jaime reckons that the Bolton man that was supposed to pick up Sansa and Baelish from the inn likely reported back to Winterfell about her disappearance to gather forces for the searching parties. They couldn't chance to intercept him, because it would have been too close to the usual paths. So Baelish surely told him.
And Jaime still hopes that Littlefinger breathed fire and brimstone once he found out that his Light of the North had passed to a different lantern while he was busy playing his games in the common room.
Therefore, their days and nights are now filled with hiding in bushes, caves, and stealing away before the Mad Dog's bloodhounds can get their trail. Thus far, they had almost three run-ins with the men after them. Though that was to be expected since they are now in Winterfell territory, which means that the troops searching for them are much more frequent here than further down South.
The fact that they can't use the roads further complicates the matter. Though Sansa proved to remember far more than she believed herself capable of, to her honor, they got lost a number of times nevertheless. Yet, they always kept the right direction in the end. And at this point, anything going only just in the right direction is better than nothing. The Wall is gladly not that small, so the general direction is easy enough: North, just North until a massive wall of ice and snow appears.
Just that the way there proves to be much more difficult.
And so they find themselves hiding behind a small mound at present, Winterfell still in their line of sight, and the barking of the bloodhounds their steady companion, lying in the snow, breathing hard – after yet another round of sneaking away from a search troop of dogs. Or rather, purposely setting them on a wrong trail the best they can, while Sansa stays with the horses. It's perhaps not the best thing to do, but the only thing Jaime and Brienne think they can do at present to somehow offer protection for the Stark daughter.
Just yesterday night they went as far as to steal into a small nearby town and find a bitch in the heat to set free and leave an odor for the bloodhounds to get confused over. That seemed to work, but it's no guarantee that they won't pick the trail back up, regardless of the food they also drop in different directions to further distract the dogs.
Brienne, gladly, is very good at throwing very far, and Jaime found a way to use his small crossbow to a similar effect, to toss bundles of meat in all directions of the wind. It's little, but… not nothing.
Needless to mention that it's still no guarantee that the searching troops won't find them. Jaime and Brienne had no illusions about this being not just risky but also very difficult, but they hoped it'd perhaps not be as constant as it is right now. They are low on sleep, rest, and any sort of proper shelter. They can't hope to find it in the towns – one can never know if the North remembers or long since forgot with the Flayed Man of House Bolton flapping so dangerously over the walls of Winterfell.
"They are some five miles from our location, moving up North from the South. Presumably Baelish's men," Jaime says, running his left over his ribs against the stitch in his side. He does have stamina, that's not it, but at present, they make miles and miles just running back and forth to check for enemies to come get to them, and then they run even further if they can't take the horses. And that leaves even a trained man breathless.
"And another troop three miles from our location, coming from North-East. I saw Bolton banners," Brienne says, breathing hard. At present, she can't afford to wear her armor, safe for the chest plate because it'd make too much noises otherwise.
"So best chances to move North-West, huh?" he concludes with a grimace.
"Seems to be our only chance at present, yes," Brienne agrees, biting her lower lip in an attempt to control her breathing.
"Here," Sansa speaks up, holding out a skin to Brienne, offering a small smile. Brienne nods appreciatively before taking a few small sips. "Thank you, Lady Sansa."
"Well, the least I can do is to keep you hydrated," Sansa huffs.
"Lady Sansa, please…," Brienne argues.
She knows that Sansa still thinks herself being of no use, and it makes her so sad that they do not only have to leave her out in the open more than once, but also that she can't show her something to give her confidence. Brienne didn't know how to have confidence back when she was still just a girl, so she has no illusions of having any vital advice to offer.
"I am just joking," she assures Brienne quickly, offering a more genuine smile this time.
Sansa knows she shouldn't complain. She can do these things – and so she will. The young Stark daughter simply tries her best to remember, to call to mind every stone, every tree, every pond and clearing.
The North remembers, and now she has to remember the North, no matter how much time passed while she was in King's Landing.
"Here, have something to drink as well," the young girl then says, holding the skin out to Jaime, too, who takes it gratefully. He imagines that the girl feels bad about it that she has to stay quietly wherever they hide her and wait for them to return, but it's the best they can do at present.
"Thank you," he says, taking a few hasty sips, before handing it back to her, offering a weary smile. "Do you know if there's any passage we can use in that direction?"
"None in particular… I think I've been there at some point, but… it's been ages since," Sansa replies, gripping the skin tighter with her gloved hands.
Because no matter what, she doesn't seem to remember too much of the North after all. Her memories are way too faint and distant.
Her home is all but milky glass right now.
"Well, better than nothing," Jaime replies quickly, not meaning to discourage her further.
And truly, the Gods must play some cruel jape at their expenses that he of all people is the one to offer comfort to Sansa Stark, or rather, how ironic they must be to grant it that she seems to actually take comfort in his words, after all he's done, and after all that was done to her at the hands of his family.
"I hope so," Sansa shrugs with a grimace before stuffing the skin back into the saddle bag.
"Then we shouldn't waste our time talking but walking. Do you have your things ready?" he asks, looking at Sansa, who balls her fist tight around the small dagger Brienne's given her for confirmation.
On the second night of their escape, Brienne had talked to Sansa about it, or so Jaime later on learned. He just knows that he returned from his watch to see Sansa stabbing into the packed snow again and again.
Jaime didn't comment much on it, but instead just told her to thrust harder. Brienne pulled him to the side, then, to explain the situation.
"So? Are you trying to make her a little warrior princess of the North?" he teased her.
"What? No, of course not. Lady Sansa is a lady and I wouldn't mean for her to be anything else, it's just…," she said, her voice drifting off.
"I was teasing you, you know?"
"Don't do that!" she pouts.
"Then tell me why you make her stab the snow," he argued. Brienne looked back around to Sansa still eagerly stabbing the white mass of frozen water, her expression growing sadder with every moment passing.
"I thought it might be for the best to teach Lady Sansa the basics of using a weapon if need be. We'll have to leave her alone for a few moments every now and then. She needs more protection than we can offer at present. A dagger will not protect her, but it may buy her the moment it takes for us to get back to her. I think the trouble with the ladies is that they aren't taught how to protect themselves," Brienne explained.
"Well, in contrast to you and her sister, perchance," Jaime shrugged, amused.
And she had the rights of it. Some many women could have used the knowledge of how to use a dagger to their own protection on more than one occasion.
"You know how I mean it."
"I think you have the rights of it. It might well give her a bit more confidence. The girl seemingly needs it more than desperately. And the more confident she feels… the less she'll hopefully send us in the wrong directions," Jaime joked.
And so Brienne had taught the Stark girl the very basic basics of using a knife, and where to aim it in case of emergency. Obviously, it would have been favorable to provide actual training for the matter, because it's one thing to stab snow, but quite another to stab a human creature, but it's better than nothing.
And they need anything that's better than nothing at present, or so they had to learn.
Anything is better than nothing. That is their new paradigm.
"Then let's go," Jaime orders before they start to wade through the woods, hoping that their footprints won't carry to the men following them.
And so they continue rushing through the forests, trying to be spirits of the woods, leaving no sound, no trace, just some faint echo, carried away by the wind.
Some merry tales they'll have to sing about them. The Little Ghosts of Winterfell, sneaking through the creeks and woods surrounding the House of the Starks, now Boltons, trying to escape fate itself, not by matters of swinging their swords, but just with how fast their feet carry them.
After a long run, they stop to catch their breaths, which only come out in white clouds drifting around their gaping mouths. The two horses dance around them more or less. They would ride them, if not for the rocky and uncertain grounds. One wrong step and the mare will break its leg. And they can't afford that now.
Jaime and Brienne glance around the small clearing.
"Alright, yet again, you stay with the horses. We'll check up further little quick," Jaime says, glancing around. There is no sure telling that they aren't going to encircle them coming from further up North. Sansa takes the reins, giving a nod.
"Make sure you stay down and out of sight. Best would be to get shelter over there by the snowbank," Brienne adds.
"Alright," Sansa nods before walking over and sitting down by the bottom of the snowbank, one hand drifting to the dagger, waiting, calling to mind how she stabbed the snow.
"I'll go this way and you'll go over there," Brienne goes on, pointing the directions.
"Good," Jaime agrees. "Don't go too far."
Brienne nods wordlessly before rushing off. Jaime sighs before picking up speed again as he makes his way through the snowbanks, rocks, and twigs hidden underneath the heavy snow.
Sansa watches the two rush off with a grimace. She grew accustomed to it that they leave her alone every now and then, but it still gives her chills, and not just from the cold. But she wouldn't dare complain. Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne do anything they can to guarantee a safe passage, and put their lives on the line for her every time they flit through the woods or go as far as to lead the dogs on their trail to keep their eager noses from her.
Sansa whips her head around when suddenly footsteps ring out, creaking incredibly loud for the silence surrounding them, so far away from towns and cities. Sansa closes her eyes. That can't be Ser Jaime or Lady Brienne. They ran the other direction. Her heart starts to beat impossibly faster in her chest.
Someone is coming – and she is alone.
Sansa slowly rolls on her stomach so that she makes few sounds. Gladly, the horses are very silent most of the time, and seem not to mean to betray her now. She crawls a bit further up the bank before she dares to steal a glance up.
There stands a man. And he looks down at her with huge eyes.
This is not a soldier, he wears no armor or helmet.
He has a limp.
His hair falls from his head almost like thick threads, covering half of his face.
His clothes are ragged and…
Sansa's mouth falls open.
This is Theon.
Theon!
He who killed her brothers!
He who took Winterfell from them!
He who betrayed all of them!
Their eyes lock and Sansa doesn't know how to breathe.
He will shout and the men will come, she is sure. If she doesn't kill, he will sign all of their death sentences. Sansa tightens her grip around the small blade. If she attacks fast enough, maybe he won't see it coming, right?
No one expects a lady to stab someone dead, right?
"D, don't," he says, his voice sounding strange as though he had to force every word out of his lungs. His eyes drift to the dagger for a moment and Sansa fears that she gave away her game far too easily.
He will kill her now. Like he killed Bran and Rickon.
"Y, you'll leave t, traces."
Sansa just stares at him.
Suddenly, she can hear dogs back in the distance, but not too far away.
"R, run now," he says, not meeting her gaze before he turns around abruptly and runs the other way from where he came, leaving uneven footsteps in the snow.
Sansa is frozen.
Did he just…?
"I just s, saw one r, running southeastern direction!" she can hear his voice, while so small, ring out even to her in the distance.
Why would he lie for her?
He is a traitor.
Sansa shakes her head. It makes no matter now. She gets to her feet and walks in the direction Lady Brienne rushed off to. Gladly, she is already on her way back.
"What happened? You were supposed to stay by the bank?" Brienne asks.
"There are men coming this way," Sansa says.
Brienne's eyes widen. That is no good.
She walks to the next best tree to knock her fist against it a couple of times. Jaime and she agreed that they may use that as a sign in case of danger arising, and indicating at the other to come to where the one knocking against the tree is. It sounds more or less like woodpeckers if you do it right, so it won't get everyone's attention straight away.
In a short amount of time, Jaime comes running to them.
"There are people coming our direction. They must have picked up our trail," Brienne tells him.
"Did they see you?" Jaime asks Sansa.
"… One of them did," Sansa says slowly.
"Did he report back to them?" he asks.
Well, damn.
"It was Theon."
Jaime blinks. The Greyjoy lad?
"Did he report back to them?"
"He told them to go the other direction," Sansa says. "But it was Theon, I'm sure of it."
"We cannot worry about it now. Whether he chose to lie for you for whatever may motivate him to do such a thing or not makes no difference. They may not believe him, or they might go looking anyway. There's no time to lose," Jaime argues.
He imagines that this must be emotionally challenging for her, but it makes no difference now. They don't have the luxury to ponder on those things right now.
They cannot ponder on the maybes and what-ifs.
"I saw a river not far from here," Brienne says. "It'd be dangerous because the dogs will likely pick up our trail far easier in the water, but…"
"But the current may make it hard for them to cross," Jaime agrees.
"Wouldn't the water wash away our traces?" Sansa asks with a frown. She always thought that would help.
"No, the water carries the scents," Jaime explains Sansa. "The important matter is that this could still be to our advantage. Have you ever crossed that river?"
"… We played by it during the summer, as children," Sansa tells him.
Arya had pushed her into the water one time, as she had sat by the riverbank to do her needlework. She chased Arya up and down the river as the little minx went on laughing to the point that she got a hiccup from it. Sansa had been so mad with her for ruining her dress. In the end, both had wrestled in the water as their brothers and Theon had watched the spectacle, holding their stomachs in cheerful pain. It was one of the few times Sansa forgot her lessons and just straight up got into a fight with her sister.
But that was during the summer, when the water was just cold, and the river was more of a stream.
And now it's just a milky memory at best.
"How far is the next bridge?" Brienne questions.
"Some fifteen miles that way, but it's old and ramshackle," Sansa replies. Robb and Jon always told them not to cross that bridge. Arya went anyway, though.
"… That's promising," Jaime grimaces.
"But only if we manage to cross the river directly. If we lure them to the bridge, they'll be after us still," Brienne argues. "That only pays off if we can run the opposite way once we crossed the river. Then we have a chance of shaking them off far better."
"How deep is the water?" he questions.
"I suppose it'd reach up to the horse's chest right now," Brienne says. "But I have no clue about what undercurrents there may be to throw the horses off. The current seems to be strong anyway."
"Best we can do right now," Jaime shrugs.
The dogs barking in closer periphery underlines his point.
"Even if he told them another way, they still seem to want to check. We have no time to lose, c'mon now. Before all of our advantage is gone," Jaime urges them. The two nod before setting out again. Brienne guides the way to the river, which is gushing mercilessly.
Sansa inhales sharply.
This is most definitely not the river she remembers from her youth.
"Well, the good thing is that we happen to be good swimmers," Jaime says, wrinkling his nose. "It does pay off to come from the coast of the South after all. How good are you at it, Lady Sansa?"
He looks at the young girl, who puckers her lips, "I am not from the coast…"
"But you can swim?" he asks.
"I won't instantly drown, but I've never gone swimming in the sea or a wild river," she replies uncertainly.
"Hm, good enough. Then we better make sure we don't fall of the horses," Jaime grimaces, before glancing back at the river. "I will ride first."
"Who's said that?" Brienne huffs.
"Now is not time for argument, woman," he hisses. "You got to be Danny Flint, now's my turn."
"You'll have a rope around your waist," Brienne insists.
"That might be favorable," he agrees. The work is done quick to fasten a strong rope around his waist. Brienne takes position by the riverbank and rams her heels into the snow and mud there, tightening her grip on the rope as Jaime mounts the horse.
"You better don't fall in, or else I'll be the one to drown you in the river myself," Brienne grunts, hoping to conceal some of her worry, though judging by Jaime's smile, she is far from successful. Jaime gives her a small smile, "Then I better do as my lady commands."
He spurs his horse into action. The mare makes the first steps into the water, but naturally the animal doesn't want to get into the cold river.
"C'mon now," he mutters, spurring it another time.
This would be no issue if they were down south, where rivers are comfortably warm.
He claps the horse on the side with more force and at last the mare sets forth into the water to the point that his legs are also in the current – and Jaime really can't blame the animal for not wanting to stay in there. The water is so cold that it bites his skin. Jaime grinds his teeth, pulling on the reins as he feels the horse move due to the undercurrents, trying to keep it on track.
"Good, good," he mutters as the horse steps forward.
Short before the riverbank, the horse makes a step forward and down.
"Damn!" he mutters as he feels the horse move uncontrollably. It must have missed its step. "C'mon now!"
The horse whinnies, growing frantic.
"Hold on tight now! I have get the leg free!" Jaime shouts to Brienne who uses her weight to offer as much protection as she can as Jaime dips his left hand into the water to pull on the mare's leg. He is almost tossed over as the animal keeps struggling. Brienne growls, putting in all of her power to ensure that he doesn't fall over, but then he bobs back up and the horse steps forward at last.
"We're good!" he yells as the horse finally makes it to the riverbank and out of the stream.
The distant sound of barking rips through the woods.
Brienne loses no time as she approaches Sansa and the horse before she fixes the rope around the young lady's waist and helps her mount the horse before getting up as well. Jaime already took position, now copying Brienne's movement from before.
"Be careful towards this part over there. The stones are loose and there's deep mud! And there's a bigger undercurrent right over there. Make sure you make your horse moves against it," he tells her. Brienne nods before spurring her horse to gallop into the water. While she doesn't dare to be hopeful just yet, she is glad that riding through water is something she is more than used to. It's something she has done numerous times while on Tarth, and the rivers there were about as deep, though not as cold and not as strong.
"Hold on tight, Lady Sansa," she tells the young woman who grips the horse's mane as tightly as she can without upsetting the animal any further than does the cold water anyways.
Brienne spurs the horse another time, pulling on the reins as Jaime suggested, feeling the horse step sideways due to the undercurrent.
"Just a few more steps and you are through," Jaime calls out.
The horse approaches the part where Jaime's got stuck before. Brienne slows the animal down, hoping that this will do the trick.
"Pull a bit to your right," Jaime instructs her. Brienne pulls on the reins and the horse seems to move swiftly over the unsteady ground.
They are almost out of the water when suddenly the mare whinnies and bucks uncontrollably. Sansa lets out a shout. Brienne tightens her hold on the reins, trying to bring the animal back under control. That is the problem with untrained horses, they can react in unpredictable ways.
"C'mon now, easy," she growls, feeling herself and Sansa shift on the saddle. Brienne wants to look over to where Jaime is standing to tell him to hold on tight to the rope in case they fall over, but he is not… there. Brienne, still occupied with the reins, only now sees that he has moved into the shallow water, the rope now attached to his horse's saddle.
"Get away!" she cries out. That is very dangerous. If the horse bucks and kicks out front, it may well hit him in the head and kill him. But Jaime doesn't listen, he approaches the animal with cautious steps before grabbing part of the harness in one swift motion and pushing the mare's head up and forward. The horse whinnies before suddenly making a leap ahead.
Jaime barely escapes being run over by ducking away to the side, crashing into the water with a thud.
Brienne's horse finally exits the water. It turns around itself a couple of times as it calms down.
"Jaime! Are you alright?" she calls out, the air catching in her throat.
"I am fine!" he yells back, and she could punch him for it that she knows he has a grin plastered on his face while he says so.
The horse finally stands still. Brienne quickly dismounts the mare in one swift motion.
"Here, take the reins," she tells Sansa, who, while still shaken through seems not too scared. Brienne rushes over to the riverbank, where Jaime is still scrambling to his feet. She grabs him by his upper arm roughly before dragging him the rest of the way out of the water.
"What devils possessed you to do such a thing?" she curses. "I had it under control!"
"I saw that. The mare was short before throwing you both off the saddle," Jaime argues, clapping his hands on the fabric of his breeches to get rid of some of the water.
"That is not how you calm a horse," Brienne argues.
"It worked, didn't it? I did that a couple of times in Casterly Rock when still a squire. You just need to get the head up and make it move forward," Jaime replies.
"I know that, but…," she means to say, but he interrupts her, "It's over now anyways, so why care?"
"You could have died," she says, her voice betraying her, though she doesn't care this time if he knows.
He could have died – and Brienne can't bear that thought.
"Well, so could you – and Sansa," he argues, now with more sincerity.
She is not the only one who wants to protect.
"Don't ever do that again," she insists stubbornly.
"I can't make any promises unless you learn how to control your horse better!" he argues with a sly smile. Brienne punches him in the arm roughly.
"And that is how you thank me?" he argues, rubbing his arm.
"Never do that again," she repeats in a low voice.
"I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Get that into your thick skull already. So now, let's get back on the horses and ride on, or else my act of bravery is for nothing, which would be a pity, considering just how good I was," Jaime argues with a smug grin.
Brienne mutters some curses to herself before quickly moving back up to her horse.
Jaime is right. They can't chance falling back behind now, after they finally gained some distance – and hopefully enough time for the nearing snowfall to swallow their traces.
They ride until the horses need a break a few hours later. And since the sun starts to disappear behind the horizon already, they decide to make camp for the night. Brienne is quick about making a campfire, roughly seating Jaime close to the flame to warm back up without a single word.
But Jaime is honestly just amused at her antics right at this moment. She stomps around like she is that short before giving him another lecture, but then doesn't because she is worried. He knows it's ungracious to think, but he does enjoy those small moments indeed. This feels more like it did back when they weren't on the run… well, considering, they have been on the run for an awfully long time, but not as much of a rushed… run, that is.
Needless to mention that he feels vastly better knowing that he kept her from danger – and didn't either expose her to it, didn't fail to prevent it, or sent her into it knowing that it posed a threat. The Gods know how afraid he was for her sake when she entered that tavern to misdirect Littlefinger all alone.
Jaime stretches out his legs, pulling the blanket she's given him – or rather, tossed at him – tighter around himself.
"Are you alright, Ser Jaime?" Sansa asks with concern in her voice.
Truly, that girl is far too sweet to be exposed to these kinds of things.
"Just a bit cold, nothing too severe. I wasn't in the water for long anyways. And it wasn't deep either. The lady is just fussing a bit," Jaime says with a smirk.
"I am not fussing," Brienne calls out from the horses as she gives them water.
"As I said, fussing," he winks at Sansa, who chuckles softly, but then her features drop as the images flood back into her.
"So that Greyjoy boy who's taken Winterfell was there, hm?" Jaime asks, seemingly having sensed to where her mind drifted. Though at some point the girl shouldn't be surprised that Ser Jaime is like his brother at least in some regard, and reading people seems to be such. Sansa looks at him with a grimace, "Yes. It was him. I… at first I didn't even recognize him. He looked so different. Like a ghost, but he was alive."
Though his voice sounded dead.
"Well, that means he is with the Boltons," Jaime grimaces, holding his left close to the flame to absorb the heat.
"But he told me to run. I don't get that. If he is with them, why did he… why did he help me? He betrayed us. He… why did he help me?" Sansa asks. This question keeps running circles inside her head ever since she caught his eyes, hidden behind matted hair and downcast glance.
How did this traitor come to help her? Sansa is used by now to people betraying her – that is one of the lessons King's Landing taught her more than painfully, but how can it be that Theon of all people would help her?
"Well, do we know for certain that he did?" Jaime questions pensively.
"Had he chased them after us, they would have had us right there. He must have led them away from our traces, or else they would have been by the river right in our spot. It sounded like they came from further up North and moved down South in search for us. That was tactical searching of the area, not following a specific lead," Brienne argues as she approaches the camp again, busying herself with feeding twigs to the fire to give out more heat and making sure the clothes that are hung up to dry do not get too close to the flame.
She doesn't know the lad by any means, except for what Lady Sansa told her about him every now and then between hushed voices and bitter memories, fleshed out by the deep-cutting feeling of betrayal. So all Brienne can say is what she saw today, and that is what it was. He didn't lead the Bolton men straight to them. That is what she can say without a doubt.
"True," Jaime agrees, contemplating.
His memories of the lad are shaky at best. Not that he paid much attention to him anyways. Jaime remembers him to be damn annoying and full of himself. But he also remembers what house he comes from originally – and Greyjoys seem to be no good company by birth. Needless to mention that he was, by rights, a hostage, even though Eddard Stark seems to have treated him better than usual hostages. But then again, if Jaime can say one thing from his own experience, then that a cage is a cage, no matter how fancy it may look on the inside. Be it Winterfell or the Red Keep under the Mad King.
"Does that mean he still led them away from us?" Sansa asks.
"That'd be my best guess," Jaime shrugs.
"But… but why? I still don't understand that. He betrayed us. Why would he help me now?" Sansa asks, licking her lips.
He helped her – but why? What brings a traitor to no longer betray?
"Well… some traitors still regret their actions. That doesn't make their past actions undone, but… it may explain their actions at present… or those reaching into the future," Jaime replies with a grimace. "And I should know. I come from a similar spot."
In some way, he and the little kraken seem to have far more in common than meets the eye, or so Jaime figures.
"But… but this is different," Sansa argues. Theon took their home. And killed her brothers. Ser Jaime did Bran cruel harm as well, there is no denying that, but… but it feels different, even if she can't explain why.
"In some many ways it's not. He did horrible things. I did horrible things. And sure, I try to do… better things now, try to repay some of that debt, however much is possible, but what chance did he have right until this moment to help you? I know the Boltons a bit. They are not the kind of people you betray easily. Never trust a man with a flayed man for a banner, hm? Sometimes it only takes one moment… to change it all. And perchance that was his moment right there. Seeing you," Jaime tells her. "Sometimes, that is all that it takes. Not always, but sometimes."
For Jaime, it was Brienne who ignited that spark within him. He is certain of that now. He doesn't know Theon well enough to make judgment about his motives, but Jaime can imagine that maybe… he had also this one moment that changed everything.
Some people have to see former friends and loved ones being chased by dogs to find their courage, others find it at the bottom of a bear pit.
"So… you think he changed?" Sansa asks.
"Well, if he helped us, then he did change in some way, or changed back. I can't say much about the matter. I don't know Balon's son very well," Jaime explains.
"But can you change after doing… such a thing?" Sansa asks.
Is there a going back even from the darkest places?
"I have to believe in that, or else there wouldn't be a point in me being here, right now, trying to get you safely to the Wall. I think I changed, to some degree. So if he is in a similar spot like I am, then I have to believe that he can change, too. Or else all of my change would be an illusion. That doesn't mean you have to forgive him, though. That doesn't undo what he did. It may just be that he is sorry… and tries to change. But it's up to you if you accept that or not," Jaime tells her.
"I try to," Sansa says, the words just spilling out of her mouth, much to her surprise.
Maybe the time in King's Landing truly screwed her up to the point where she no longer knows good from bad, but perhaps that is the thing. That you have to see the good in the bad and the bad in the good.
Those are not the tales of knights and fair maidens in castles, with dragons and white stallions. It's a tale of three people who probably wouldn't ever have met if not for chance tossing them the same direction, on a gruesome journey. If there is good in Ser Jaime, despite his wicked acts, then maybe there is something good in Theon the same way, however small it might be. But even if not, he did that one thing.
He let her go. He let her get away.
And that was a good act, even if it came from a not-good man.
"That is more than anyone could ever demand of you. And if he is not halfway dumb, he knows that," Jaime says. "For now we should be glad that we seem to have succeeded in gaining some distance. If we keep that up, we should shake them off soon enough."
"Right," Sansa agrees. "And then we'll get to the Wall. To Jon."
To safety.
To the furthest part in the North.
Though she cannot remember that part of the North, maybe she will remember more of it once she glances down on the entire land, standing atop the Wall. Who knows? And maybe, just maybe, that will break the milky glass of her distorted memories.
"Will you go back down South to get your child, then?" Sansa asks as Brienne settles down next to Jaime.
"As was already said… we'll have to see. It depends on how dangerous it is. We don't want to put him in additional danger," Jaime says with a grimace, the thoughts of their child still burning cold in the pit of his stomach. Most of the time, running keeps them both distracted from the longing for Gurion, but during those small moments, it all comes back at once.
"Of course… I am sorry," Sansa replies, realizing the sad expression on both their faces. She shouldn't have brought that up. That was unkind.
"Don't be sorry. We made that choice. And he is safe with my brother, I'm sure. Because if not… let's just say that I will toss him into the next best snowbank if he dares to put our child purposely at risk," Jaime tells her, forcing a smile. "Needless to mention that he hopefully has your sister in tow, still."
"Right…," Sansa nods slowly. Arya. She would have swam through the river only to prove that she could.
Brienne runs a hand over her face, her mouth flexing nervously. Most of the time, she is too distracted to think of Gurion, but now he is freshly back into her mind. And however foolish it may be, she just feels like crying at this very instant. She knows she should be glad about the progress they made against all odds. That Sansa is safe. That they made it through the river without anyone taking considerable damage. That Lady Sansa seems to be a bit more hopeful… but now? Now this very selfish thought enters her mind where she'd like to trade some many things if only to hold him right now, or feel his small but strong heart beating as she held him to her chest every now and then to make him fall asleep at the sensation of her rising and falling chest.
Brienne blinks once she feels something pressing down on her palm. She doesn't turn her head once she realizes that it's Jaime who has grasped her hand quietly. And Brienne is more than grateful that no words are spoken about the matter, just like Lady Sansa either doesn't see it – or is kind enough not to call them upon it to cause any more discomfort. Brienne squeezes back, biting her lower lip as she watches the flames, praying to the Seven that they will get to see Gurion again, rather sooner than later.
She never thought she'd miss something as much as she misses Gurion right now. Brienne knew longing far before the day that she ever had a child, long before she ever even got used to the idea of having one. She remembers it from sleepless nights back on Tarth while still a girl, trying to dream herself away from the mockery of the ball and her formerly betrotheds. She remembers it from longing after Renly in the camps. But this is worst. Not to know how he is… it's tearing her apart. Because deep down she knows that Gurion is hers, theirs. It's not just some castle in the air, far away, that she longs for. Gurion is there, with Shae and Pod and Tyrion, and hopefully Arya and the Hound, too. This is no longing for things she actually knows she won't ever have. She has him. Just not with her.
It's odd, really, that the fact that he is hers the same way he is Jaime's seems to make such a difference. She always thought her devotion for Renly was sheer endless – and senseless at some point, given the circumstances – but with Gurion, it's something completely new. Something she can't even put her fingers on. But the fact that he is theirs and theirs alone makes it ever the harder. It's just… he belongs with them, right?
But it's for a good cause, she has to remind herself.
It's also to keep him safe. She doesn't even want to imagine what would have been, had they been forced to take Gurion along. He could've fallen off the horse today the same way. So it makes no difference however much the pain burns cold in her body. Gurion is safe. And they do anything they can to keep Sansa safe, too. That is what she has to believe in. That is what she has to build on.
She can feel Jaime's hand squeezing hers a little tighter, and she takes solace in that.
They have each other, too, right.
"… I think I have been here before," Sansa speaks up after a while, her voice small, chin resting on her drawn-up knees.
She looks around slowly as she takes it in. She was here before. She remembers now.
"Have you?" Jaime asks with a lazy smile.
Any distraction from Gurion is more than welcome to him at present.
"During the summer. As I said, we liked to play by the river. Or rather, my siblings did and sometimes they just dragged me along… When we were both still much younger, Arya once crossed the bridge even though Jon and Robb told her not to. She wanted to hide far away – and I was supposed to find her. She didn't tell me that, though, the silly goose," Sansa says with a soft smile. "I only realized far later that when she told me to come looking for her, she meant to play hide and seek with me. My mother had told me to keep watch over her… so I had to go looking for her. Jon and Robb went with me, of course. We rode through the riverbank further up North to cross the river, where the water was shallow by the time. I was so afraid that I… had lost her."
And to think that only a few years later, they departed on terms that still leave Sansa uncertain about whether Arya still believes that she hates her for Lady and the rest.
If someone was a silly goose all this time, it was her.
Especially if she looks at Lady Brienne and Ser Jaime. They had to leave their beloved child behind for a mission, they parted from their family because they had to. They miss their baby truly. And Sansa? She pushed her own sister away, even though she loves her – regardless of the fact that she always made fun of her.
Really, a silly goose.
"Jon and Robb went opposite directions while I was supposed to stay with the horses… close to here. But then I heard some noise, so I went that way… And there she was, hiding… just over there," Sansa says, her eyes sparking up once the memories become crystal clear to her, as though they were made of snowflakes. As though little Arya with unkempt hair and borrowed breeches from their brother, hid right under that big root where she found her the last time. "She just yelled at me that I took too long to find her and how boring that game was… and I just kept cursing at her for running off. Mother was furious with me and I blamed Arya for it the whole time."
"I imagine," Jaime smirks softly.
"Sometimes I'd just like to go back to those moments, you know? To change them. I wished I had just hugged her or so, told her that I was glad that she was safe. Instead, I cursed at her and she thought I was just being annoyed. I guess Arya and I were destined to always get each other wrong… and annoy each other therefore," Sansa shakes her head.
"She knows that you love her," Brienne argues.
"Still, I would like to take all of those small and big things back," Sansa sighs.
"I guess we all do," Jaime grimaces. And Gods know that he would take back so much. All of what happened in King's Landing that drove a wedge between him and Brienne. Bran. There would be so many things he'd like to see undone. Not to clear his own name or for his own benefit, solely to see some of the pain removed that he brought into the world.
"I don't," Brienne says, to no one in particular.
"Really? No regrets?" Jaime can't help but ask.
That surely came unexpected. He thought she'd make a list of things she'd like to see play out differently.
"Regrets, yes, but I wouldn't want to mess around with time itself. No one knows what would come out as a result, right? I just think… what if that one thing I may change for myself may prevent me from having Gurion with you – or from getting to Lady Sansa in time? And that makes me far too scared to even think of the possibility," Brienne says.
She may not be particularly happy with the situation as it is, but Brienne still wouldn't want to change world's course. Even if someone promised her that she'd get to have Gurion, and that she could undo what happened between her and Jaime in King's Landing, she wouldn't take that deal, because that is what eventually brought them together as they are now.
Because now they belong to each other without a doubt, no matter the circumstance.
Brienne likes to think of the things that are within her capabilities, and not get lost in the what-ifs of the past. She rather thinks of the maybes in the future, the possibilities. Because it is those possibilities that lead her back to Gurion for certain.
"I think that's a good point indeed," Jaime agrees. "And you see, Lady Sansa, it might be that you can't undo the past, but you may well change the world's course from now on, if only just a little."
Sansa nods.
"Right."
If Theon can, then so she can.
If Ser Jaime can, then so she can, too.
So… to the end of the North she will go – and then find Arya, and try to mend what can be mended and rebuild what can be rebuilt. They are sisters, they are family. And isn't that the only thing that matters?
The North may forget. She may forget the places, but she knows her sister. She won't forget her. Ever again.
Because it is the family that matters.
The loved ones.
They have the power to make us change – and to bring us back home.
They are the source of possibility.
Of future.
Of hope.
So the milky glass may break to reveal crystal clear images and make space for new memories to come.
And hopefully for many more to come.