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Jaime wrapped a plain black cloak tightly around his shoulders, hiding his clothes beneath it, pulling the hood firmly down so his face was cast in shadow. He smoothed his hair down so the gold would not show, then shook the cloak over his golden hand. Through the boards on his windows, he knew the sky outside was grey-pink-dusk had fallen. Cersei was meeting with Qyburn in the small council chamber, which now housed the smallest council there ever was. Jaime's hand was shaking-he had perhaps two hours.

He knew where Cersei expected him to be in two hours.

But that was the last thing on Jaime's mind now. His father-by-law was in Kings Landing. Lord Selwyn. Brienne's father.

Jaime gritted his teeth. Unimaginable guilt churned inside him. At least now he knew where the note had come from. But now…he had to face him. He owed him that much at least-but now, he had to face the man whose only child was dead-and it was Jaime's fault. Jaime's hand shook harder, his fist painfully clenching. He had sworn his sword to Selwyn's daughter, had cloaked her before a sept, had promised to protect her so many times…and he had failed.

Before he could think about it anymore-Jaime forced himself over to the door, pushing it open.

"Ser Jaime?" The guard on duty whipped around as Jaime left the room. "Where are you going?"

Jaime turned to him without hesitating for a moment. "I must return to Her Majesty's side. If you will excuse me-"

"Then I must accompany you." The guard strode along behind him purposefully, his head held high. "I am under orders from the queen never to allow you to leave your chamber alone, in case you do yourself injury. Therefore-"

But his voice was cut out as Jaime summoned the last of his strength, swung his golden hand around and knocked the guard out. Blood seeped from his head as it smashed sickeningly on the stone floor, spreading into a thin pool of red.

"Didn't think about me doing you injury though, did you?" Jaime muttered coldly, before pressing on. He had lived in the Red Keep for years-it was not too difficult to get out undetected now that he had a reason. The thought of Selwyn-any connection to Brienne-seemed to have breathed new life into him…and as he snuck through the servants' corridors and crept around corners, dodging into the shadows whenever he encountered someone-he almost felt an old rush of adrenaline...

...

Finally, he reached the exit which would come out almost exactly where he had seen Selwyn that morning. Finally, fresh air on his face…but something was wrong? Jaime frowned…there were no guards. Not a single guard stood on this door…but he couldn't think about that now. He had only two hours. He slipped out into the street, crouched to the ground, covering his mouth so his breathing was muffled, scanning the street before him…and a tall man in a brown cloak stood in exactly the same place, waiting.

Jaime's heart caught in his throat.

Selwyn turned-and spotted Jaime. He stared at him for a moment-before curtly indicating with his head that Jaime should follow him. Then, casually, he began to walk away from the Keep, into the backstreets, his cloak low over his face…

Jaime had no such cool. As quickly as he could, his cloak flying out behind him, he followed Selwyn into the shadows. Finally, as Selwyn entered a back alley, Jaime caught up with his long strides, just as Selwyn turned around to face him.

Despite his rush, Jaime could not breathe as he looked up into the face of his father-by-law. Selwyn looked almost exactly as he had done at the wedding, though now there were heavy purple bags under his eyes. Those eyes…the piercing sapphire blue, exactly as Brienne's had been…and his face was so calm. Jaime was so moved by the composure of Lord Selwyn, by his stiff jawline and dry eyes-that he broke down entirely as he stood before him. It felt as if all of his grief came flooding back to him, a thousand fold. He could not hold back. He fell to his knees at Selwyn's feet.

"Jaime-" Selwyn began-but it was a dagger to Jaime. The calmness of his voice, the caring concern it…it just made tears fall thick and fast down Jaime's face.

"I…I'm sorry…" he choked out. "I-I swore to protect her…I swore her my sword…and I could not save her. I failed your daughter and I failed you." He looked desperately up at Selwyn. "It is my fault that your only child is dead."

"Jaime-" Selwyn began again, his eyes wide.

"I have forsaken the only vows that ever mattered to me!" Jaime's hands ran wildly through his hair in hopelessness. "I am Oathbreaker, a man without honour-your daughter is dead and it is my fault-I know how you must hate me, but it is nothing compared to how I hate myself! I cannot bear to live with myself-"

"JAIME!" Selwyn shouted suddenly. He put a hand on Jaime's shoulder, pulling him to his feet. "Stand up, man! Get a grip on yourself!" But then-Selwyn pulled him into a rip-cracking hug. "I am so glad you are alive, Jaime. You have no idea how worried I have been about you. But you're alright, and that is what matters." Selwyn patted his back comfortingly.

Jaime looked up at him, every organ in his body seeming to melt. He could not believe it. "But-" He swallowed hard. "Brienne...is dead because of me. I failed to protect her-"

"Then it is a blessing that she is so good at protecting herself."

Jaime looked straight at Selwyn. The world around him stopped turning.

"What-"

"Come with me now." Keeping an arm firmly on Jaime's back, Selwyn began to lead him through the streets, hurrying through the shadows along the cobbles. "Didn't have any trouble with the guards, did you?"

Jaime's head was reeling. "Uh-"

"Good," Selwyn muttered, his strides seeming even longer as he rushed Jaime along. "I sent Ser Alun and Ser Owaiyn to deal with the gate, but I couldn't do anything about the inside. Bloody nightmare, it's been. I am amazed you got down so quickly-you got my note? Must have, I suppose, paid the lad enough-hurry up, it's not far." Selwyn sharply turned a corner.

Jaime could not believe what was happening-he hardly dared believe that he was not dreaming...it is a blessing that she is so good at protecting herself…IS so good at…IS…was there a chance…no. There could not be. Brienne was dead-she had been murdered at Winterfell by the soldier Steven under Cersei's orders…she was dead…he had seen her blood running down her wedding dress onto the stone floor-it was a sight that would haunt him until the day he died…and yet…Selwyn's manner…IS

He could barely allow himself to hope.


Brienne stood by the window, just out of sight of the street below, where the market stalls were packing up for the evening. She was not close enough for a decent view, but she could see a slither of the street, over which she watched and waited. It was ridiculous, she knew. Her father might not be back for days, and yet she could not help watching…

Maggie was asleep on a chair behind her, hair wild, her mouth hanging slightly open. Not being recognisable, she had taken a short trip around the market place that afternoon, and had returned with her eyes full of stars. Brienne never ceased to be amused at Maggie's constant state of amazement in the capital. Maggie was so dear to her now that it was easy to forget that they came from different worlds.

Ser Gethyn stood guard by the door, his sword permanently primed. Brienne too never let Oathkeeper out of her reach, though Ser Gethyn had a knack of making one feel safe no matter what. He was an aged knight, very large, his great black beard beginning to turn white. She had known him since she was a child on Tarth. There was something in his warm brown eyes that was inherently comforting, such a far cry from his fierceness in battle. It was as if he was two different men in one. She was glad, of all the knight of Tarth, that he was there.

She did not take her eyes off the street below, watching, waiting…

Suddenly-she saw it. Moving through the thin crowd. A great, tall man in a long brown cloak. Behind him-Ser Owaiyn and Ser Alun.

And by his side…

Even under the black cloak, there was no mistaking him. She would know him anywhere.

Jaime.

Brienne could not breathe.


Jaime swore he could see a ghost. There was no other explanation as to who stood before him in this poor, small apartment high above the street. Her face was as white, her hair almost as white-but her eyes were bright blue-sapphire blue. She stared back at him, silent, almost as disbelieving as he was. If it wasn't for those eyes, he could not have believed that she was not a spirit. But she stood on the ground, her eyes wide, the scarlet cloak around her shoulders, her belly swollen beneath her tunic…whole. Complete. And staring back at him.

Brienne had come back from the dead. They had both come back from the dead.

She was alive.

Jaime did not notice that his feet were moving until he had rushed to her, standing only a foot away, as if closer inspection would prove that she was not real after all…but the moment he threw his arms around her, feeling the warmth of her body…she was alive. She was alive, and Jaime could do nothing but cover her face with his tears as he held her.

"Gods…gods…." He could say nothing more. The warmth of her body, her breathing, her heartbeat…his head swam, his heart raced, he swore it almost killed him again…but he lived, they both lived… "Gods…"

"Jaime," Her voice breathed new life into him, cementing his feet firmly back on earth, filling him with strength like he had never known before. She was here. She was really here.

"Brienne," he breathed, scarcely more than a gasp. "…I…I can't believe it…you're…I believed you dead-I-" He swallowed hard, clasping her face, her shoulders her arms, her hands-but everything was perfect. She was completely unharmed. "You're…you really are…" His tears fell faster.

"I'm fine." Brienne murmured into his shoulder, her own voice thick, though she did not cry as Jaime did. She held onto him as close as she could. "Gods…" she whispered, as if she could hardly believe he was there either. She seemed unable to find a single word to say…but finally, she settled on: "I love you…"

"I love you." Jaime sobbed into her hair. "I-I'm so sorry…."

"No-" she managed to say. "No, it wasn't your-"

But Jaime held her tighter, hardly daring to ask. "And…and the…the child?" he choked.

"He's fine."

Jaime breathed out, almost collapsing with relief. He kissed her hard, again and again, as if he could never do it enough. Now, she was back in his arms, and he prayed that she would never leave them again. "Thank the gods…thank the gods…" he gasped, before more tears absorbed him. Suddenly, it was as if everything else in the world had simply vanished. Everything he had been through, everything that had happened since their wedding day, the miles and kingdoms that had separated them, the dagger through his chest, even Cersei herself…none of it mattered any more. Jaime's world had been restored to him, come back from the dead-from waking up this morning with nothing, to suddenly having a reason to live again…Brienne…the baby…his own wife and child…it was more than he could bear. All he could do was hold onto her, and, for as long as he could, forget everything else there was. Jaime was truly alive once more. And all he knew was Brienne.