There he was. The Stark boy. Sitting in his wheelchair before the weirwood tree in the godswood of Winterfell. Jaime felt a knot in his throat as he stepped closer, remembering the innocent look on the boy's face just moments before he pushed him out of the tower. As much as he tried to rationalize it in his head over the years, the act had always haunted the kingslayer in his dreams. That year as Robb Stark's prisoner of war was difficult for Jaime. Constantly locked and shacked in a cage, looking at Bran's family, who had no idea it was he that threw the boy from the tower. On the worst days, he remembers the temptation to tell Catelyn the truth. To fill her with such rage that she would kill him, and end his torturous captivity... But that was a long time ago, and Jaime was a different man.
"I'm sorry for what I did to you." Jaime finally admitted after a long stretch of silence, the knot in his throat strangling his breath. Another stretch of silence followed before Bran turned his head towards the Lannister.
"You weren't sorry then." Replied the Three Eyed Raven in his expressionless monotone voice. Jaime bowed his head, lips curled in shame. "You were protecting your family." Bran stated. Jaime walked around the front of the wheelchair bound boy, his footsteps crunching snow in the silent, still air.
"I'm not that person anymore." He assured, his heart tearing in two.
"You would be had you not pushed me out that window." Bran paused and looked into the carved face of the weirwood tree. "And I would still be Brandon Stark." The kingslayer cocked his head in confusion.
"You're not?" He asked, eyes in a slit, tears still frozen to his face from the falling out with his little brother.
"I'm something else now." Answered the Three Eyed Raven, returning his gaze to Jaime.
"You're not angry at me?" Jaime held back a sob.
"You said it just as well as I could. You're not that person anymore." He sighed through his nose, glancing up at the white sky. "Blaming you for the crippling of Brandon Stark would be an injustice. You've suffered enough." He finished, looking down at the kingslayer's golden hand.
"When you said... What you said in court." Jaime hid the golden lie behind his cloak. "I thought you were going to tell them about what I did to you."
"If I did, you'd be dead right now." Bran stated. "Your purpose is to fight for life, not to die in order to satisfy the Stark family's lust for revenge."
"What about afterwards?" Jaime asked.
"How do you know there is an afterwards?"
The final defences were set. The trenches dug deep and wide, the spiked barriers placed evenly behind the trenches, and the trebuchets fully assembled behind the walls. It was said before that five hundred men could hold Winterfell against ten thousand. But with these new fortifications, and the alleged tactical ineptitude of the enemy, Brienne was confident that this army of thirty-eight thousand could hold Winterfell against the estimated one hundred and fifty thousand dead men. With the Targaryen's two dragons, the big woman could breath easily as she watched Podrick sparring with other combatants. The former squire now an excellent warrior thanks to Brienne's lessons. She watched with pride as Podrick caught an incoming sword against his own, allowing it to slide down and stop at the cross guard above his hand, following up by grabbing his opponent's blade and poking him with his own blunt training sword. She was so preoccupied with watching Podrick that she didn't notice Jaime standing beside her.
"Oh! Ser Jaime." She greeted, nodding to the frowning knight.
"Lady Brienne." He returned, watching Podrick as well, seeing him beat aside an incoming blow and allowing his sparring partner to run straight into his rounded, blunt sword. "He's come a long way." Jaime commented with a sniffle.
"He's alright. Still has a lot to learn." Replied Brienne, pacing around the training field in front of the castle with the kingslayer in tow.
"I'm told your commanding the left corner of the battlements." Said Jaime, seeing the big woman nod.
"Indeed." She affirmed, causing Jaime to sigh.
"That's where the trench ends." He looked over his shoulder at the left corner of the castle's front, the wide trench curving in against the stone walls, leaving the corner exposed. "The dead's assault is going to be at it's worst in those corners."
"You worried about me?" She scoffed and shook her head with a smile.
"I couldn't have picked a better person for the job." He remarked.
"What are you trying to do?" Brienne inquisitively drilled. Jaime's mouth hung open for a moment.
"What?" He mumbled.
"I think you know." She spat back, staring at Jaime in his silence. "We've never had a conversation this long without you insulting me."
"You want me to insult you?" Jaime cocked his head.
"No!" Brienne scoffed.
"Good." He took a few slow breaths, averting his eyes and forming his words. "I-I'm not quite the fighter I used to be." He stuttered, sighing in his unfortunately true admission. "I came to you to ask for the honour of serving under your command." Jaime paused. "If you'll have me." He quickly added, turning his head away and pressing his lips together, taking a few deep breaths. Brienne just stared at him slack jawed for a few moments.
"I'd better get back." She softly spoke, her facial expression reeking of surprise and conflict. Brienne turned away from Jaime and made her way back towards the castle, leaving Jaime and his frozen tears out in the cold, without an answer.