Based on events during Episode 6 of GoT Season 8

(Also includes flashback from Episode 8 of GoT Season 3)

The weeks passed. It was strange, the way time worked. The month Jaime and Brienne had spent together seemed to have lasted a whole year rather than just a few weeks. It had been a whole new life. Now, on the other hand, it was back to work as normal for Brienne, back to her normal duties around Winterfell just as it had been before the battle against the White Walkers, and the days sped by quickly. Before she knew it, it had already been an entire month since the night Jaime had left. In just the space of four wonderful weeks, the two of them had become lovers and talked about a future together. Brienne couldn't help wondering what would have happened in the four weeks that had followed, if Jaime had stayed.

He'll be there by now. Daenerys will be laying siege to the capital. What will Jaime do? What will Cersei do? Will they survive? Will he come back for me if he does? Or will he perish along with thousands of others?

The same questions raged through Brienne's mind as she diligently went about her duties and tried to focus on the items covered in her daily meetings with Lady Sansa. But it was hard to not let her mind be clouded. At least Sansa understood and forgave any of Brienne's lapses in concentration. Sansa and Pod were particularly considerate in that regard, even though they had accepted Brienne's consistent stubborn refusal to talk about the matter. They knew, more so than all the other residents at Winterfell, just how much Brienne had settled into her new life with her new partner. To have it all abruptly smashed and then for it to just disappear, as if it had never happened at all, was challenging enough for anyone to bear, let alone someone like Brienne, who had risked opening herself up in every way for the chance at this new life that had once promised to be so dazzling and blissful, but now just seemed like a silly fantasy.

At first, Brienne still rather foolishly clung to the hope that Jaime would change his mind, that he would turn around and come back for her. But he didn't. It was a terrible thing to love someone so willing to destroy himself. Not one hour passed when she didn't think of him. She saw Jaime everywhere she went in the castle grounds…every place they had talked, worked, strolled, laughed and kissed. He had left the ghost of his true self behind, but taken the rest of himself far away, along with their hopes and dreams for a better life, of a happy future together. She missed him so much. Her heart ached for him like never before. And yet Brienne refused to admit that she was feeling fragile or show for one second that she was suffering. She couldn't break. She wouldn't break.

While Brienne continued her work in the castle grounds, she closed her ears to any rumours or gossip from everyone around her about what was currently occurring at King's Landing. She didn't want to know anything about the events of the war unless the facts were absolutely certain. Besides, by remaining in this grey fog of hope and uncertainty, she was keeping Jaime alive. But Brienne knew she wouldn't be able to keep up her denial for much longer…and sure enough, it was only a few days later when she finally discovered the truth of what had happened down in the south.

Pod knocked on the library door tentatively, though Brienne wasn't sure why he bothered knocking at all; she'd left the door wide open deliberately, so that people could come and go as they pleased while she wrote out her letters and lists of supplies for the castle on a table in the corner of the room.

'Is there news?' Brienne asked him as he entered, putting down her quill.

'A raven, from King's Landing,' Pod replied, indicating the scroll in his hands.

Brienne rose to her feet, her heart lurching. 'Finally. What happened?' she asked urgently. 'And where's Lady Sansa? I thought she'd be here to discuss-'

'She's already read it, milady,' Pod said, and he closed the door behind them so that they were alone before slowly approaching her, a sorrowful expression on his face. 'I wanted to be the…she and I thought this would be better coming from me.'

Brienne felt her lips part and tremble; she rested her shaking hands on the table to steady them. 'Is it over? The war?'

'Y-yes. It seems it's over,' Pod said heavily. 'Sansa is making arrangements to travel south as soon as possible for a summit.'

Brienne's expression softened briefly. He'd addressed Lady Sansa without her title. She didn't need to be a genius to work out what that meant.

'Jon Snow and Lord Tyrion have both been imprisoned by the Unsullied, and there's to be a trial,' Pod went on, taking a look at what was written on the scroll, and Brienne gaped at him in shock. 'Representatives from all noble houses are expected to be present to discuss their fate and…the events of the battle.'

'I take it I'm to go to King's Landing as well?' Brienne asked.

'Yes…or what's left of it,' Pod replied, grimacing.

Brienne frowned at his tone. 'Tell me what happened.'

'Queen Cersei surrendered, but…Daenerys Targaryen, she…she burnt the city.'

'She what?' Brienne gasped, aghast.

'It seems Sansa was right to be suspicious of Daenerys, after all,' Pod said sadly. 'They rang the bells, but Daenerys…she slaughtered them anyway.'

Brienne slowly sank back into her seat, dismayed. 'That's terrible. And she expects Lady Sansa and everyone else to cooperate and bend the knee to her at this summit, I take it?'

'Err…not quite. She's dead,' Pod said awkwardly, and Brienne raised her eyebrows at him in alarm. 'Jon Snow stabbed her through the heart. Her dragon Drogon carried away her body, it says here.'

'Gods, that's quite a lot of information in that scroll, Pod. So…Jon Snow has been imprisoned for her murder,' Brienne murmured thoughtfully, and she sighed. 'His right as the heir to the Iron Throne will hold no resolve now. No doubt he'll be known as the…the Queenslayer from now on.'

'I fear so, milady.'

'But why is Tyrion on trial? What did he do?' Brienne asked, confused.

'H-he committed treason apparently, milady. He'd released…' Pod paused, seemingly unable to continue.

Brienne gave him a stern look. 'Go on.'

'He'd released Ser Jaime.'

Brienne let out a shaky gasp. She had wondered when his name would come up.

'Daenerys' forces had captured him on his way to the capital, but Tyrion set him free so that he could persuade Queen Cersei to surrender, apparently,' Pod explained.

'And to save her.'

'That as well, I believe.'

Brienne swallowed. 'And?'

Pod said nothing. He merely stared at her.

'What happened to Jaime and Cersei?' she prompted sharply. 'Did they make it out of there?'

There was another silence. A silence that meant Brienne already had her answer, and yet she still waited with bated breath for Pod to finally respond.

Eventually Pod took a great shuddering breath. 'They were found under some rubble at the bottom of the Red Keep,' he replied, and Brienne felt her stomach drop. 'It appears Ser Jaime had been trying to help Queen Cersei escape. He tried to save her from the destruction of the Red Keep…but apparently Drogon was very insistent on demolishing as much of the castle as possible.'

'He would have done nothing less,' Brienne murmured, her eyes and tone empty. 'Jaime…not Drogon, I mean.'

She felt a lump rise in her throat. It had been the first time she had said Jaime's name out loud since the day after he'd left Winterfell. It already felt unfamiliar in some ways. Blinking rapidly, Brienne looked up from the table to see that Pod's eyes were filled with tears. She stared back at him in horrified silence, almost refusing to believe it.

'Pod, I…' she said unsteadily. 'I need you to say it.'

'Milady?'

'Please,' Brienne said, and her voice shook. 'I've known it for a while, I knew it the night he left, but…I need to hear it.'

Pod hesitated. And then he spoke the words that Brienne knew would never stop haunting her, for as long as she lived.

'Ser Jaime is dead, milady.'

Neither of them were quite sure how long the silence lasted after he said that. It could have been seconds, it could have been minutes. All they knew for certain was that Brienne's world was crashing in all around her, leaving her with nothing but a hollow ache in her chest, and there was nothing either of them could do to stop it. Pod watched her carefully, trying to determine whether or not she was about to fall from her chair and break down into fits of anguished tears or possibly even faint. But Brienne merely stared at him, seeing nothing, with only the quiver of her chin as a slight indicator of the nightmarish pain and agony raging within her.

Brienne then cleared her throat. 'Thank you, Pod,' she said, getting back up to her feet. 'Does Lady Sansa need help preparing for our trip south?'

Pod looked perplexed by her sudden change in attitude. 'Milady, you can stay here-'

'I will be going with Lady Sansa to King's Landing for the summit,' Brienne cut over him firmly. 'Besides, they need someone to represent Tarth. When does she wish to depart?'

'Tomorrow at dawn…' Pod said, still confused. 'But milady, you've just received some bad-'

'We all receive bad news in these times, Pod, and we all carry on,' Brienne said dismissively as she moved around the table. 'I am strong.'

'You're the strongest person I know, milady,' Pod said, and he reached out to touch her arm. 'But there are times when you're allowed to let your guard down.'

Brienne shrugged him off her. 'That's where you're wrong. I'll never be making that mistake again,' she said fiercely. 'Now for tomorrow, we'll need to pack-'

But Pod interrupted her calmly. 'I've got it handled, milady. Sansa and I are sorting everything, along with her handmaiden. Why don't you…go to your room and pack your things?' he suggested gently. 'I'm here if you need me.'

Brienne considered him for a moment, then nodded abruptly and turned to leave, having forgotten about her letters and lists on the table. As she opened the door, Pod called after her.

'Milady,' he said, and she turned around to face him. 'I'm sorry for your loss.'

For one moment he thought he saw Brienne's face crumble but then the moment was gone as quickly as it had come, and her mask was quickly back on.

'I lost him five weeks ago. Nothing's different. We carry on,' Brienne said firmly.

Pod sighed heavily as she left the library and closed the door behind her. He hated to see her grieving in silence, but there was nothing he could do. He could only help comfort her and be there for her when she let him…but he couldn't see that ever happening.

Brienne headed upstairs as if in a trance. She wasn't sure what time it was, or even what day it was. The corridor to her bedchambers seemed longer than usual, and the walls were spinning. Perhaps the cold was making her dizzy. She was nearly at her door when she lost her balance; she reached out with her hand and held onto the wall, stopping to take a breath. A single tear she hadn't realised she'd been holding leaked out and trickled down her cheek as she tried to exhale deeply.

Pull yourself together.

She pushed open the door and stumbled through, where she sat down on the bed, numb. She was bereft and torn with sorrow and yet in some ways she could feel nothing; there was only a hollow, empty hole where her heart had once been. She couldn't even cry. The tears just wouldn't come.

He's dead. He's not coming back. He's dead.

Her eyes fell to one of Jaime's shirts, which she had left draped on the chair. She crossed the room to pick it up, and drew it close to her face, almost cuddling it. The shirt had once smelt of him, but the scent had long gone. Brienne undressed and put Jaime's shirt on before getting under the fur covers of her bed. The grief was pulling her down, telling her that all was lost, that there was no hope left for her in this miserable world.

He can't be gone. He can't be.

Jaime had been guiding her towards a different life…but the life she had begun to know, the life she had dreamed of with him, was now over. She didn't know what was true anymore. She didn't know what or who she could believe. She had finally felt settled, stable, secure. Safe. But now she was all alone again, without her guide, without the man she loved to rise for.

She just wanted to sleep and forget. Perhaps, if she concentrated hard enough and let her imagination take over, she'd be able to dream of him, of happier times when he'd slept here in this bed beside her, with his arm draped over her waist, his face nuzzled in her neck. But to do that would mean thinking of him, and if Brienne thought too deeply about him, she would crack and crumble into pieces. And she couldn't do that; Sansa needed her. She needed to be ready for tomorrow. And so Brienne refused to succumb to the darkness and simply lay there, craving for sleep to come while she tried to erase the Kingslayer from her mind.

The next morning dawned bright and early, but Brienne had been up and about long before then. Sansa's belongings had all been packed in the carriage, and the horses and men were all ready to begin their travels. It was only Sansa's whereabouts that Brienne wasn't completely sure of, but that soon became clear when Sansa surreptitiously emerged from the set of steps that led to Brienne's and Pod's bedchambers. Sansa was trying not to smile the whole morning and her cheeks turned a shade of crimson that clashed magnificently with her hair when Pod joined them for breakfast before they departed, but Brienne said nothing.

That had once been me, Brienne thought wistfully.

They set off not long after they had eaten. Brienne took one last look at Winterfell before they rode through the gates, wondering how long it would be until they returned. She wouldn't miss her bedchambers or the courtyard or the great hall…or anywhere, in fact. Those locations were all too painful for her now. When once they had been places of laughter and joy, they now only made her miserable. Perhaps it would be good to get some distance from this place.

Pod rode beside Brienne as they headed out towards the harbour, but remained silent, knowing that Brienne had no wish to talk. She'd barely spoken to anyone unless absolutely necessary since Pod had broken the news to her yesterday. He wished he could reassure her that, after some time, she would recover and it would be all right. People left and people died all the time, but Jaime would never really leave them, not for good. Even though he was no longer in this world, a part of him would always remain behind, Pod was sure of it. But looking at Brienne now as they rode together, he saw that she didn't believe that. She looked like an emotionless statue that had barely come to life. There was nothing in her face or her eyes. There was nothing at all – just a knight making her way to King's Landing. The happy woman full of joy and laughter from last month might never have existed at all.

Before turning in the direction of the harbour, Brienne found herself drawing her horse to a halt as she gazed out longingly at the kingsroad. She wondered which route Jaime had taken last month, and whether the kingsroad would have been the quickest way for him to get the capital. It made her think of all the hazardous complex routes she'd fashioned through bushes and fields and dwindling paths in the middle of lonely forests through the Riverlands when Lady Catelyn had set them both on their mission years ago. She could remember how much easier it had been when they'd continued their travels after Harrenhal in the company of armed soldiers to lead their way and protect them. Looking back now, that was the one journey Brienne had taken through Westeros that she'd actually somewhat enjoyed.

How she wished she could go back to those days now.

The sun was just beginning to set when Steelshanks finally came to a halt and called out to his men.

'We should stop here, it's getting dark. Ser Jaime?'

Finally satisfied that they were far away enough from Harrenhal, Jaime gave a firm nod. 'Yes,' he agreed. 'Here's as good a place as any to make camp.'

They had reached the outskirts of a forest – not too far away from the main road, but far enough so that they were secluded and hopefully wouldn't be disturbed. If they were, at least they were with a big group of armed soldiers; any bandits and outlaws wouldn't stand a chance against them. Jaime scrambled down from the horse and turned to Brienne in her torn, blood-soaked pink gown.

She was still in a bit of a daze. She could remember vividly how just a few weeks ago he'd kept saying to Locke about how uncomfortable he'd felt tied up to Brienne on the horse, how he didn't like being close to her. He didn't seem to mind that anymore, though.

'Be careful, her wounds will be fragile,' Qyburn called over in his concerned, unsteady voice.

Jaime reached up to help her; Brienne held onto his shoulders reluctantly and he lifted her down from the horse, his arms sure and strong. Steelshanks and his men noticed but Jaime found that he didn't care.

Let them talk.

Jaime let go of Brienne quickly and they turned away from each other, flustered. He'd never touched her nor any woman apart from Cersei like that before.

'If you want to find a place to rest, my lady,' Qyburn suggested, 'while I find the right supplies for you.'

Brienne traipsed over the red and brown leaves to have a walk around the forest clearing instead. She was fed up of resting and being treated like an invalid. Yes, she was in severe pain thanks to that stupid bear, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. Jaime watched her with a frown, irritated by her sullen silence and the way she kept glancing back at him as if unsure about who he was. Their bickering had become something constant, something familiar he had been able to hold onto…something he had even grown fond of. But now she was merely a shadow of her former self, stunned into silence. She wasn't even scowling as she usually did, and it unnerved him.

Jaime groaned, infuriated, as he walked after her, trying not to trip over the skirt of her ripped dress. 'Maybe I should have left you for the bear, it's better than you being this quiet. Are you going to keep giving me those odd looks or are you going to come out with it?' he snapped.

Her arms folded, Brienne turned to face him then, her eyebrows raised. '"Sorry about the sapphires"?'

Jaime stopped, surprised. He was stunned by her expression; it was the first time he had ever seen a hint of a slight smile on her face. He hadn't even known that she could smile.

'Well I had to seize the last word, didn't I?' he said, mildly amused.

A silence fell between them as they simply looked at each other, bemused frowns on both their faces as they tried to figure the other one out.

'Why did you come back?' Brienne asked.

Jaime stared at her for a moment, panicking as he tried to think of something to say. 'Does it matter?' he said airily. 'I came back, I got you out of there, we're finally on our way to King's Landing, let's focus on that-'

'Ser Jaime,' she said in a voice that forced him to stop, and Jaime reluctantly looked up at her. 'You were well away, you'd left Harrenhal many hours ago. You weren't even armed. I don't understand why you would…do what you did.'

If Brienne was trying to understand his motivations, Jaime wished her all the best; he barely understood himself. Thinking back to what had been going through his mind when he'd seen her in the bear pit, he realised that he hadn't actually thought that he could save her. He just hadn't been able to let her die alone. Not like that.

'If it helps, I don't understand it either,' Jaime admitted, and he sighed heavily. 'We've been through…a lot together. I couldn't just leave you there. We're a team now, you and I….as much as we hate it. It's probably best if we stick together, don't you think?'

There was a stunned silence as Brienne stared at him. His voice was so much softer around her now.

'I am…very grateful,' she said quietly.

'You shouldn't be,' Jaime mumbled, turning away and looking around at the trees to hide his embarrassment. 'It was my lie about the sapphires on Tarth that landed you in that mess in the first place.'

A lie he had told to protect her honour. He had risked his life twice for her. Brienne didn't recognise him as the man Lady Catelyn had released into her charge. She didn't recognise him at all. But she was slowly beginning to understand that she now knew the kind of man he was.

'Not that it matters, but just so you know, I…' Brienne trailed off and cleared her throat. 'I don't hate it, Ser Jaime. You and I as a team, I mean. Not anymore.'

Jaime's lips parted as he considered her. He could see that she was irritated with herself for saying those words, but that she meant them as well. His face softened.

'Nor I,' he said quietly.

They then heard the rustle of leaves as Qyburn came over with his bag of medical supplies and equipment.

'Sit down please, let's get you looked at,' Qyburn said, getting out his things.

Brienne obliged and sat down against the nearest tree. Qyburn crouched down beside her…as did Jaime.

'You don't mind if I stay?' Jaime asked them both.

Brienne and Qyburn exchanged a bewildered glance, then shook their head at him simultaneously. Jaime watched as Qyburn treated the wounds on Brienne's arm from the bear attack, trying to memorise in detail what he was doing so he could help in future over the duration of their journey to the capital. To try and distract herself from the pain while Qyburn stitched some of the skin on her arm and dressed it in a bandage, Brienne focussed instead on Jaime. His hair was so long now that it curled over his forehead. Brienne rather liked it, despite its greasy lank texture. She also noticed that his wrists were chafed raw from the manacles he had worn while captive. It filled her with guilt.

'These will need cleaning daily,' Qyburn said, as he turned his attention to the gashes on her neck and eyed them worriedly.

'I'll help – whatever needs to be done, just let me know,' Jaime said, leaving Brienne baffled.

'I'd prefer to sear the wounds-'

'No,' Jaime said firmly, making it clear with his tone and the look in his eyes that that was that.

He didn't want her to go through any pain similar to what he'd experienced when Qyburn had burnt and cut away the rotted, infected flesh from his stump back at Harrenhal. Brienne was the last person who deserved such a horrific experience, and for some reason Jaime saw Brienne as his personal responsibility now. He wouldn't let any harm come to her.

Once Qyburn had finished treating Brienne, Steelshanks sent a few of his men out hunting; they soon returned with a few rabbits for them to roast over the fire and share between the group while the sky darkened above them. As the evening went on, Brienne found herself feeling increasingly alarmed by how new and unfamiliar and strange it felt between herself and Jaime. It wasn't like he was trying to put on his golden-lion charms towards her, of course not – she knew he'd never want nor need to bother with that – but still…even his half-hearted insults were not as serious as Jaime intended Steelshanks and his men to believe. There was something different in Jaime that she hadn't seen before, and she knew it wasn't just because of his story about the Mad King. Their encounter with Locke had made him softer somehow. Perhaps even slightly compassionate. How else could she explain why he suddenly cared for her health and wellbeing?

'So here we are…on the road again,' Jaime said while they ate, and Brienne cast him a wary glance. 'Slightly different than it was before Harrenhal, which can only be a good thing.'

'Yes,' Brienne agreed somewhat nervously, as she tried to come up with something to match his light tone. 'You're not covered in mud this time.'

'Indeed, see – it's always good to look on the bright side. Gods, I was covered in it, wasn't I?' Jaime said, half-repulsed, half-amused at the memory. 'The mud was absolutely everywhere in me, honestly-'

'I know well enough, thank you, I had to wash it out of your ears,' Brienne interrupted him shortly.

Jaime smirked but before he could retort back, he overheard one of Steelshanks' men nearby mentioning something about a 'married couple' as he watched them and chuckled, so Jaime kept his mouth shut and continued to eat his supper in silence after that.

By the time they had all finished eating and warming themselves by the fire, the sky was black and everyone began finding places around the clearing to get settled and go to sleep for the night. Steelshanks had given Brienne a spare bedroll and blanket; she was grateful, though doubted she would be able to go to sleep with all these strange men around…and particularly with Jaime. He had been cursing loudly for the past five minutes as he tried but failed to remove his cloak from over his head. It was driving her mad.

'Oh, just stop shouting!' Brienne snapped eventually.

Jaime stopped, his cloak halfway up his head. 'I…I'm really not shouting,' he said. 'Also, why do you get to suddenly dictate what volume I speak at?'

'Because I have a headache and you were really irritating me,' Brienne replied.

'Oh,' Jaime said apologetically, finally managing to toss the cloak over his head and onto the leaf-strewn ground. 'Qyburn might have something for your headache.'

'I'll be fine. Thank you.'

'You know, if I were to give you a tip, knight to knight-'

'I'm not a knight.'

Jaime titled his head at her sceptically. 'You're as good as,' he said, and Brienne felt a strange warmth surge through her at his words. 'If you want a piece of my advice, learn how to take off your armour with one hand. It'll make things simpler for you should this ever happen in your life, though you should pray it doesn't.'

He was indicating his stump. Brienne frowned at him.

'You're not wearing any armour,' she pointed out.

'Exactly. I'm having enough trouble with these simple rags, imagine how tough it's going to be once I'm back in my Kingsguard uniform,' Jaime said; the thought was almost laughable…he could see Cersei's and Tywin's reactions already, and for a mad moment he considered commanding everyone to pack up, turn and head back in the opposite direction…anything to avoid such humiliation.

'Have you missed it?' Brienne asked, as Jaime sat down next to her bedroll.

'Missed what?'

'The Kingsguard.'

Jaime hesitated. 'It's my duty,' he replied, and Brienne raised her eyebrows at him.

'But do you enjoy it?' she pressed.

'Why? Are you experiencing 'Kingsguard envy'?' Jaime teased.

'That would depend on the king,' Brienne said dryly, and she gave him a sceptical look. 'Right now, I'm not so envious.'

Jaime's nostrils flared as he stared at her, suddenly enraged. 'You know I could have your tongue cut out for that,' he said in a dangerously quiet voice. 'You insult my nephew, and I could abandon you here on the kingsroad, I could tell Steelshanks to put a sword through you, I could drag you to the dungeons of the Red Keep all just for insulting my House and our king like that.'

Brienne seemed unperturbed by his threats. 'Yes, you could. But you won't,' she said coolly.

Jaime scoffed. 'What makes you so sure?'

'Because you told me the truth of the Sack of King's Landing. And you saved me from that bear – you wouldn't let all that effort and time go to waste just because I said something you didn't want to hear,' Brienne said thoughtfully. 'And also because I think you share my views on King Joffrey, regardless of him being your 'nephew', and you'd like us to be able to speak freely to each other.'

Jaime's lips twitched slightly as he watched her, but she had her eyes focussed on the flames of the campfire in front of them, trying not to look too smug. He was glad he had found her. And he was no longer ashamed or afraid to show that he liked her, not just as a person, but as a friend.

'Go on then. Speak freely,' Jaime said, fascinated, as he turned to face her. 'What else is it that you'd like to say?'

Brienne hesitated as she turned to consider him. 'That I've figured you out.'

'Oh really?' Jaime said, almost playfully.

'You call me a beast, but you're the one who's been so fixated on acting like one. But that's all it is. Just an act,' Brienne said unabashedly.

Jaime's smile had disappeared. Her confidence irritated him somewhat, almost as much as the words she spoke.

'Is that so?' he said, almost angrily.

'I believe so, yes.'

Jaime knew that she was right, though he hated to admit it himself. He prided himself on being a lion, he always had, but he was a lion with a thorn in his paw, regardless of the loss of his hand. He was in deep emotional pain, and possibly had been for a great many years now. And there was no point in him even trying to hide that from Brienne, not when he had let her see his true colours in the bathtub and in Qyburn's quarters.

'Well two can play at that game,' Jaime said irritably, leaning towards her as he considered her carefully. 'You try and be as unfeminine as possible because you hate that you were born without a cock – or rather, you pretend to hate it. You force your life to be all about swords and armour and fighting and honour, when really deep down you're a woman with a woman's feelings and desires, same as the rest. You just try to hide it. Only you're not as good as you think at it.'

'And what feelings and desires might they be?' Brienne asked sceptically, her tone and expression full of disdain.

A lump rose in Jaime's throat; oddly, he felt rather nervous. 'I…well, your dearest Renly would have been better at answering that, wouldn't you say?' he said without thinking.

He closed his eyes and groaned the moment he'd said it, but the damage was already done. Glaring at him as she tried to breathe deeply and remain calm, Brienne then began to struggle up to her feet to move away from him, but groaned as the pain from her injuries flared up again.

'Sit down,' Jaime muttered exasperatedly, reaching out and pulling her back to the ground by the skirt of her dress. 'Qyburn said you should rest, you'd be wise to listen to him for once.'

'Fine,' Brienne snapped irritably. 'Then could I ask you to shut up and leave me alone?'

Jaime sighed. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought up Renly,' he murmured.

'That's what you do best though, isn't it? You're hurting, so you lash out at the nearest person to you and know exactly what to use against them,' Brienne said coldly.

Jaime frowned. 'I'm not hurting.'

'Yes you are,' Brienne insisted. 'We all are, in some way or another. But you are more than most, and you've been in denial of that for years.'

'You don't know me,' Jaime said, shaking his head at her.

Brienne raised her eyebrows. 'Don't I?'

Jaime stared at her. He'd told her himself that she was the only one he'd told about Aerys. He had never exposed himself or opened up like that to anyone, not even Cersei or Tyrion. Perhaps Brienne did know him, better than anyone else. The thought scared him. Being alone at last with her, facing this hard truth, finally away from threat and free to talk after their expedition with Locke and at Harrenhal…it was too much. It felt like he was in the company of someone completely different to the captor whom he'd so despised upon first meeting.

He sighed wearily. 'You should get some sleep. You need it,' he murmured. 'Do you want another blanket? That dress is rather…'

They both looked at the tears and rips on her blood-stained gown, the gap in the material running up between her legs, the low-cut bodice exposing her cleavage. Brienne felt her cheeks redden.

'No, I'm fine with this one, but thank you,' Brienne said quietly, clutching her blanket as she looked warily at the bedroll she'd laid out on the ground.

Brienne hadn't tried sleeping out in the open without a sword before, or without Jaime either tied to a rope or in chains. But here he was free. Free to do whatever he liked. He could run away, he could hurt or kill her. He could do anything. But it wasn't Jaime she was worried about, she realised. There were quite a few other men in their camp, watching them both with beady eyes. What if some of them were just like Locke?

Jaime seemed to sense her fears. 'What, do you think I'm going to run off in the night and leave you with this lot?' he said, raising his eyebrows at her.

'No. No, I don't think that.'

'Good,' Jaime said with a roll of his eyes. 'Because I'd be bloody angry if you did.'

Brienne looked around at the men uneasily. 'I don't have my armour,' she said in a small voice.

Jaime knew now why she'd constantly worn her armour every night when it had just been the two of them – for protection. She had built a fortress inside herself. And now she had nothing but a torn, revealing dress to cover herself with.

Jaime leaned towards her. 'I'll make sure we get you some decent clothes tomorrow. And…tonight, I'll keep watch. I won't let any of them touch you,' he promised in a low voice so that no one else could hear, and Brienne looked up at him, stunned by his gaze. 'Not that they would want to, let's be honest,' he added hastily.

Brienne stared at him.

'What? You're still covered in dirt and blood and you've got a great ugly gash there. Not a pretty sight,' Jaime said, chuckling. 'Perhaps another bath would do you good.'

Brienne tilted her head at him. He smirked.

'Does it hurt? There?' Jaime asked, indicating the gashes on her neck.

'It's fine,' Brienne muttered dismissively, shrugging him off.

Jaime sighed. 'This hurts too,' he said, pointing at the stump on his right arm. 'A lot.'

She wanted to ask him why he was being so nice to her. But for some reason the words couldn't fall from her lips.

'I can still feel my fingers. It's strange, isn't it? I wake up every night with this searing agony, and I think my hand's still there. And then I look down and see it's gone. This massive part of me. Just gone,' Jaime said thoughtfully, and he sighed as he leaned back heavily against the tree trunk. 'Sorry. I know how tiring my complaining was before Harrenhal, you must be fed up with it, it's been incessant.'

'For good reason,' Brienne said sympathetically. 'You lost your sword hand.'

Jaime raised an eyebrow at her, confused. 'I thought you didn't think that much of an issue to whine and moan about.'

'That was when you'd given up,' Brienne muttered. 'But you're carrying on now. And you have every right to complain.'

'Thank you. So do you, by the way. We've both had a rather rough time of it, haven't we, you and I?' Jaime said wearily.

'Well let us hope for no more misadventure from now on.'

'Let us hope…' Jaime murmured, and he looked at her. 'Get some sleep. We have another long ride tomorrow.'

Brienne frowned, clearly uncomfortable. 'You need rest as well.'

'How about this – we take it in turns to keep watch?' Jaime suggested.

'All right,' Brienne said grudgingly.

She lay back on her bedroll and covered herself with her blanket, though she kept her eyes wide open as she stared across at the other side of the camp, keeping a firm eye on Steelshanks' men. Jaime began to chuckle beside her.

'Close your eyes. I'm right here, I won't let them anywhere near,' he reassured her, amused but also saddened by her fear.

Brienne groaned in defeat and tried closing her eyes. Jaime quietly moved his bedroll and sheepskin blanket near to hers and sat there for a while, watching the other men as they finished their drinks and began settling down for the night. Soon enough, they were all snoring. Jaime turned to face Brienne; she was breathing deeply, her face still strained even in sleep. He crept over and draped his cloak over her blanket, in case she got cold during the night.

He watched her for a while as she slept, mesmerized. They were two strangers, who had been raised in completely different worlds. Their lives had been so different. It didn't make sense for them to connect in such a way, and yet somehow this woman was making him someone new as they travelled to the city he was almost afraid to go back to. It was one of the longest journeys of Jaime's life, and yet bizarrely he felt the effects of it were more mental than physical…and that was including the loss of his hand. He wondered if he would feel that way so strongly if it had been anyone other than Brienne who had escorted him away from the pen in Robb Stark's camp.

After a few hours, Jaime could barely keep his eyes open, but he didn't wake Brienne. She needed the sleep more than anyone, and he trusted these men to not harm her, particularly when he was so close to her side. Besides, everyone knew in this group that Jaime was the one who was really in charge, not Steelshanks. So he let himself slide back onto his bedroll and under his blanket, and the moment his head hit the ground, he'd lost consciousness.

When Jaime woke up the next morning, he could hear Steelshanks and a few others already walking about the camp, talking about getting food for breakfast before resuming their journey. Blinking as his eyes came into focus, Jaime then realised that he had rolled over in his sleep and was pressed close to Brienne; no wonder he was so warm. His arm was on top of hers, his good hand around her forearm. Stunned, Jaime slowly removed it, unaware of the slight smile on Brienne's lips as she pretended to still be asleep. Shaking his head at himself in bemusement, Jaime then slowly sat up and looked down at her, content to see that she was safe and rested. He leaned over and tucked the blanket and his cloak more securely around her, making sure the gash on her neck was covered up, before getting to his feet and walked over to talk to Steelshanks. Brienne's eyes flickered open as she watched him go, her heart fluttering slightly, though unaware of Jaime's rare satisfied smile as he walked away.

He had made many bad decisions in his life…but going back to rescue Brienne of Tarth from Harrenhal was certainly not one of them.

~ Present Day ~

The broken remains of the tall double gates were pushed unsteadily open to reveal what was left of the city that had briefly been Brienne's home, and a scene of total devastation met their eyes. Daenerys Targaryen's destructive rampage across the capital had resulted in a tragedy unlike anything Brienne had ever seen before. King's Landing had been completely decimated, and Brienne, Sansa and Pod could barely recognise the graveyard of buildings and bodies as they led the way into the remains of the city they had all managed to escape years ago.

From the white blanket that covered the debris and charred bodies scattered throughout the streets, one might think they were in Winterfell, but this was certainly not the North, and it was certainly not snow. Endless thick layers of ash lay on the roads, roofs and rubble. Countless buildings had been destroyed, their collapsing debris having crushed many innocent civilians to death – Jaime being one of them, Brienne thought tearfully. It only took one look down the main road to deduce that thousands of smallfolk had been killed. Their flesh had been burnt away, leaving nothing but their bones and skulls that had been blackened and scorched by the extreme heat of the fires; Brienne felt her insides churn as they slowly walked past them, everyone in their entourage too stunned by the horrifying sights to speak. It wasn't just Drogon either; it was clear that the Unsullied and Dothraki armies had slaughtered the city just as brutally as the dragon's flames.

A few remaining civilians were removing bodies and clearing paths – a task they had no doubt set themselves to many weeks ago – but most of those who had survived had scarpered and run for the North, and Brienne could hardly blame them. What was there left here to stay behind for? The city had been annihilated…everywhere from Blackwater Bay and the slums of Flea Bottom all the way to the Red Keep. Up ahead, they could see that many sections of the Red Keep had collapsed, although a few integral structural pieces and towers of the castle remained upright.

Brienne couldn't bear to think of all the casualties…there must have been hundreds of thousands of people, soldiers and civilians alike, whose lives had been brutally taken from them that day.

The deadliest day in Westerosi history, Brienne thought sombrely.

'I never thought I'd be back here,' Pod murmured as they walked through the deserted remains of the main road.

Brienne shook her head sombrely. 'Nor I.'

'We're not,' Sansa said, her voice cold and empty. 'This isn't King's Landing anymore. It's just a ruin.'

She wasn't wrong. If Brienne had thought that Winterfell had been bad enough after the battle against the White Walkers, it was nothing compared to this. It would take months, probably years, to rebuild the city that had once been so busy and thriving, so full of life and excitement and danger. That was all gone now. The inns, the blacksmiths, the stalls, the homes, the families, the workers…all turned to nothing but ash and rubble.

As they continued their way towards the Red Keep, Brienne caught sight of the other pair of gates in the city, and came to an unsteady halt. If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost see her younger self walking through those gates, dressed in those drab brown clothes they had found on the Kingsroad for her, watching Jaime with concern as he'd trudged back into his old world, exhausted and in pain and weary from their travels.

'Step aside, country boy,' she could distinctly remember hearing one of the smallfolk snap at him.

She could picture the fear and dread in his eyes as Jaime had glanced up towards the Red Keep, just as she was doing right now. Back then, he had fought so hard to get back to King's Landing, and yet the moment he'd traipsed through the gates, it had become clear to both himself and Brienne that he'd no longer belonged in the capital. And yet he'd still gone back. Just as he always did. He always went back in the end.

A lump in her throat, Brienne looked down and turned away from the gates as she followed Sansa, Pod and the rest of the Northern force that had accompanied them down the rest of the broken remains of the street.

The Dragonpit was one of the few places in the city that Drogon had left alone, and so had been decided to be the best place to hold the summit. The moment she entered the empty clearing and saw the podium and canopy in the centre, Brienne felt a sudden wave of nausea. She thought of the look of panic and anger in Jaime's eyes as he'd marched past her when they had met here months ago in this very location. She thought of the half-anxious half-longing glances they'd exchanged as they'd waited for Daenerys to arrive while trying not to think of the words and gazes exchanged during their last encounter at Riverrun. She thought of the way he'd turned away from her the moment he'd realised Cersei had been watching them.

She should never have forgotten about the way Cersei had controlled him that day. She should have seen it coming.

It only hit Brienne now as everyone in the proposed council took their seats on the podium for the summit that she would never unexpectedly run into Jaime again. She would never see him…no one would. He'd departed this world, and left her behind in it without him. Somewhat stupidly perhaps, she hadn't fully believed that that night would be her last time seeing him…her last time holding him, kissing him, looking into his eyes…If she'd known, if she'd truly known that that was it, perhaps she would have done more to try and save him. But he'd been beyond saving, she'd known that deep down. He'd taught her how to love, while Brienne had taught him how to live…but it hadn't been enough. He had chosen death over life, and she'd had no choice but to let him go.

The summit didn't last as long as Brienne had expected, for which she was grateful. She wanted to leave the Dragonpit as soon as possible, for it only reminded her of the last time she had seen Cersei, glaring away and snapping at Jaime. As hard as she might pretend otherwise, Brienne would always think of Cersei bitterly for being the reason for Jaime's death.

The council members had all been allocated accommodations in various parts of the city that had remained standing; some parts of the Red Keep, for instance, along with one inn. It was in this inn that Brienne found a dishevelled-looking Tyrion a few hours later, having retreated here at once to seek solace with numerous cups of wine. She couldn't tell whether he was celebrating the fact that he had avoided execution and been freed from his chains and released, or commiserating the fact that he had been appointed the responsibility of being Hand to the new king, Bran Stark. Tyrion didn't notice Brienne enter; he was too consumed in his drink to notice anything, she suspected. She looked around at the inn awkwardly, wishing suddenly that Pod were here with her. He had offered to stay with her, but Brienne had insisted that Sansa needed him more; she was deeply forlorn after it had been decided for Jon to be banished to the Night's Watch.

Brienne took a step forwards in the inn and regretted it almost at once as Tyrion looked up from his goblet. His beard was long and bushy, his face gaunt and drained. His face was the last one she wanted to see today, and yet here she was. She couldn't run away from him.

'Ser Brienne.' He looked surprised to see her.

'Lord Tyrion,' Brienne greeted, bowing her head. 'I'd ask how you are but…'

She trailed off, unable to look him in the eye. It was difficult to be in his presence, to be talking alone with him. The last time they had spoken, Tyrion had been wishing her and Jaime well, and expressing his excitement for her becoming a part of their family…his sister-in-law. How times had changed.

'I'm glad to be out of my cell,' Tyrion replied, grimacing. 'But that's about all I'm glad for. How are you?'

'I…' But Brienne broke off. There were no words to describe how she was.

A lump rose to Tyrion's throat as he looked down, ashamed. 'I'm so sorry for what he did…and for what happened,' he murmured. 'Truly, I am.'

Brienne nodded slowly, still unable to meet his sympathetic gaze. 'I am as well. Do you know if I can see him?' she asked. 'Or…has he already been buried?'

There was a small pause. Tyrion looked deeply uncomfortable.

'Their bodies were burned two weeks ago,' he said eventually, and his voice broke.

Brienne's lip quivered. 'I see.'

She'd wanted to see him, to say a final goodbye. But perhaps this was for the best. It had been over a month since the slaughter of the capital, when the ceiling had caved in on him. Seeing Jaime's rotting, broken body that had been crushed to death by rocks might have well and truly destroyed her.

'With our new king's permission, I'll be taking Cersei's ashes to Casterly Rock, so she can rest beside our mother's grave. It's what she would have wanted,' Tyrion said, and he scoffed bitterly. 'Besides, it's not like there are any crypts left here to bury them in, Cersei made sure of that.'

'And Jaime's?' Brienne asked tentatively, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

'I…I haven't quite decided yet. Casterly Rock never meant much to him. Neither did King's Landing,' Tyrion grumbled, and Brienne frowned.

'But Cersei did. He would have wanted to be with Cersei.'

Tyrion's eyes filled with pity as he gazed imploringly up at Brienne, realising that she truly believed what she'd just said. 'He wouldn't. He didn't like that part of himself, Ser Brienne,' he said, his tone half-earnest, half-firm. 'I won't have him laid to rest beside the woman who poisoned his mind and drove him to his death.'

Brienne stared at him. She could feel her chin beginning to quiver.

I need to get out of here.

With a brief nod, Brienne then turned on her heel and hurried out of the inn; Tyrion opened his mouth in dismay to call after her, but for the first time in his life, words failed him.

It took a while for Brienne to stop the shakiness of her breaths as she walked in a daze away from the inn and towards the Red Keep, but eventually she managed to regain some control. For some reason, her feet seemed to know where they wanted to take her without Brienne even registering it, and before she knew it she found herself in the gardens of the Red Keep…or rather, what remained of them. The dead plants were covered in ash and the breeze was far chillier than the warm one she'd gotten used to back when she had lived here, but the sound of the waves from the sea down below were just as she'd remembered. Brienne's eyes then fell to the bench that she had sat on during her first day here to mourn the loss of Catelyn Stark. She thought of the way Jaime had sat there at her side, his hand on her shoulder as he'd awkwardly tried to console her.

'Look at me. I'm a complete joke.'

'You're not to me.'

Her lips trembling, Brienne turned away from the bench and the gardens, and hurried into the castle, her armour clunking noisily in her desperation to get away.

She wished she could hear his voice again, or just see a portrait of his face. What if she would end up forgetting the way his tone could change so quickly from sly and humorous to smooth and seductive when he spoke? What if she would start to forget the grey in his beard, the crinkled lines around his eyes, his scruffy hair, the way his gaze would turn so adoring whenever he smiled dazedly at her? What if all that became lost to her in a few years' time? How could she bear it?

The reminders that hit her everywhere she went in this place were painful beyond belief, and yet they were also necessary. They helped keep him alive to her, in a way…even though she knew there was no bringing him back.

'How was Lord Tyrion?' a voice then said out of nowhere.

Brienne spun around, shocked to see that Pod had emerged not far from her in one of the remaining corridors of the Red Keep. She hadn't even heard him approach. That wasn't like her at all.

'He was fine. Well no, he's in mourning for his brother and sister, so of course he's not fine,' Brienne said shortly. 'But he also somehow managed to decide the future of Westeros while on trial for his life and in chains, so I have a feeling that he'll always be fine in some way.'

Pod nodded heavily, his brow creased in concern as he tilted his head at her. 'And how are you?'

'I wish you and Lady Sansa would stop asking me that,' Brienne muttered irritably.

She knew they meant well, but the way they constantly asked after her welfare and gave her such worried looks as if she was something fragile and weak and about to break was testing her reserve. Pod sighed wearily as she turned her back on him, trying to take slow, deep breaths.

'We care about you, milady, and we're worried about you,' Pod said, frowning. 'Shutting yourself away like this isn't good for-'

'I appreciate your concern, Pod,' Brienne cut over him sharply as she turned to face him, 'but you don't get to decide what is and isn't good for me. I can cope with this in the way I see fit, in the only way I know how.'

But Pod wouldn't accept that. 'I know what guilt does to a person, milady. I saw it in Ser Jaime, and look what it did to him,' he said, making Brienne flinch. 'You can't let it rule over you.'

Brienne frowned at him, confused. 'Guilt?'

He sighed sympathetically. 'I know you, milady,' he murmured. 'I know how your mind works.'

She knew what he was referring to. Neither of them would forget one of their many intimate conversations they'd shared while on the road searching for Sansa…the day Brienne had opened up to Pod about her past…

'Nothing is more hateful than failing to protect the one you love.'

But of course, just as Brienne felt that way about Jaime, Jaime had felt that way about Cersei. It was why he had left Brienne the first place. She understood it. She just wasn't sure if she was quite ready to forgive it.

Brienne flared her nostrils at Pod, wishing he wasn't able to read her so well. 'Fine. I couldn't save him,' she snapped. 'I let him go, and I didn't even try to go after him, and that will probably remain the deepest regret of my life. But what good would it have done? Even if I had managed to save him and bring him back…he wouldn't have been able to bear it. He would have hated me, almost as much as he hates himself. Hated himself.'

As she corrected herself, she clutched Oathkeeper more tightly to her and stared at the hilt. She had kept Oathkeeper close to her side ever since Jaime had left, as if unable to let go of it.

Pod knew what she was feeling. She was terrified that her memories of Jaime would one day disappear. But Pod knew differently. There would always be a trace of Jaime left. He would never be gone from her forever. He was with her still, and always would be. Pod just didn't know how he could help Brienne see that when she was so determined to close herself off from him and everyone else around her.

'Milady, you know I'm here to talk to, don't you?' Pod said softly, taking a tentative step towards her. 'You're going through something horrible, and…I don't want you to bear it alone.'

But Brienne laughed sceptically, an unnatural sound that only made Pod feel more forlorn. 'Why should I inflict it on you, or anyone for that matter? Why should I give into it, when all it will do is make things worse?' she pointed out. 'Maybe you're right, maybe I do feel guilty, but more than that, I feel angry, Pod. He left me! I trusted him, and he left me. No matter what he may have said or done, it doesn't change the fact that he wanted to die with her more than he wanted to live with me. And I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive him for that.'

'I'm not sure if it was about what he wanted,' Pod said imploringly, desperate to make her see. 'I didn't know him that well, but…it seemed to me he felt he didn't have a choice.'

Something in his tone made Brienne look up at him, her eyes searching his carefully. Pod averted his gaze, but it was too late. She'd already seen what he'd been long trying to hide.

'You spoke to him, didn't you? Before he left,' she said in a low, quiet voice. 'You knew what he was planning.'

There was a pause. Pod looked overcome with guilt and sorrow.

'Not as such. And I never thought he would go through with it,' he said earnestly, and Brienne scrunched her eyes tightly shut as the pain came flooding through in another wave. 'Forgive me, milady, he swore me to secrecy. I thought I was protecting you by keeping silent.'

'I know, Pod. You don't need to ask for forgiveness,' Brienne said heavily, and she sighed. 'I understand…I know how persuasive he can be. Could be.'

She kept doing that. She still wasn't used to talking about him in the past tense. It only seemed like yesterday when his hand had been in hers as they'd walked happily along the snowy hilltops of Winterfell…a world away now. As Brienne looked down sadly, Pod took another tentative step forward.

'I was very fond of Ser Jaime, milady,' he said gently. 'I'd had little to do with him before he came to Winterfell, but…he looked out for me, he was nice, and I could see how much he cared about you…and, well, how happy he made you. I'd never seen you laugh or smile like that before. So…I liked him very much. Not that that would mean anything to you, but I just wanted you to know…' He trailed off awkwardly.

Brienne's quivering lips parted as his words sunk deep. 'I…'

She trailed off, her voice weak and unsteady as she tried to find the words to say, and then out of nowhere she burst into tears. Pod's lips parted in despair as he watched her break down before his very eyes, but it was relief he felt as Brienne walked into his open arms and sobbed into his hair while he wrapped his arms around the woman he'd long regarded his mother.

'It's all right, milady,' he murmured, blinking back tears. 'I'm here.'

'I-I'm sorry…' Brienne whimpered as the tears continued to cascade down her cheeks.

'You have nothing to be sorry for. You cry for as long as you like,' Pod said comfortingly as he rubbed her back. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

And so Brienne continued to sob, overwhelmingly grateful to have Pod in her life. She hadn't cried since the night Jaime had left…she hadn't even been able to cry the day she'd found out he had died. Because she hadn't let herself.

She had been cruel to herself, Brienne realised now. She had never given herself time to process the shock of the loss. She had rushed herself to recover and act as if her wounds were healed. Ever since the morning after Jaime had left, she had forced herself to pretend that all was well, whilst her body shook and the broken remains of her pounding heart continued to silently crumble. Perhaps it wasn't so wrong to weep for him after all, or to let others close to her see that she was suffering. Perhaps it was okay for her to ask for the comfort of someone's presence, for their shoulder to cry on. If there was one thing Jaime had taught Brienne, it was that she was valued and that she no longer needed to hide her true self from those around her. Perhaps he had been right; perhaps her pain deserved to be heard after all. And there was no one in this world better than Podrick Payne to help her through it.