Based on events during Episode 6 of GoT Season 8

(Also includes flashback from Episode 9 of GoT Season 3)

It was a few days later when Brienne found Lady Sansa in what remained of the Tower of the Hand; Sansa had just spoken with Tyrion for what Brienne presumed would be the last time before they left for Winterfell. As Brienne approached, her brow creased in concern; Sansa looked desperately forlorn. She had only just bid farewell to Jon this morning, and Arya was also making plans to shortly set off on her trip out at sea. The pack of wolves was no more, and Brienne could hardly blame Sansa for feeling melancholy because of it.

'Lady Sansa,' Brienne said softly. 'Are you all right?'

Sansa looked up at her and forced a smile. 'I will be,' she replied, gesturing for Brienne to sit down with her at the long table. 'I'll see him again, I know I will. And he'll be free in the North. 'The real north', he calls it. It's where he's always belonged.'

'The North is where you belong as well. I assume we'll be making preparations to depart for Winterfell soon?' Brienne asked, though she wasn't sure whether the thought filled her with hope or dread.

Sansa looked down, a lump rising in her throat. 'Yes. Only…you won't be coming with me, Ser Brienne,' she said reluctantly, and Brienne's lips parted in shock. 'I release you from your oath. As a friend, I would like to ask you to stay here in King's Landing, but only if you want it. I know being back here in this city must be…difficult for you.'

Brienne could hardly process her words. She was horrified, but more than that, she felt deeply hurt. She had never expected that Lady Sansa would dismiss her. And she had lost so much already…

She cleared her throat. 'I've disappointed you with what happened with Ser Jaime, my lady, I know,' Brienne murmured in a trembling voice. 'I understand that you no longer need my service, however I-'

But Sansa interrupted her with an earnest gaze in her eyes and placed her hand over Brienne's. 'It's not that at all, Brienne, and you haven't disappointed me in any way, let us be clear on that. I dearly want you to come back with me to Winterfell, but…there is someone whose need of your service is greater than my own at the moment,' she said. 'I believe the North will be all right. I've been in charge for some time, I know how it works and I know what to do. But the remaining six kingdoms are another matter entirely. And our King needs someone brave, someone he can trust, someone honourable…to take charge of his Kingsguard.'

Brienne frowned at her, confused. 'But I…I can't even be part of the Kingsguard, let alone command it…I'm a woman, my lady,' she pointed out.

But Sansa was smiling. 'Those rules stopped applying the moment Ser Jaime made the very wise decision to make you a knight. And I have it on authority from Lord Tyrion that Ser Jaime personally recommended you for this post – as I would have done, had he not beaten me to it – should the opportunity were ever to arise. He said no other person in Westeros could do a better job. And he was right,' she said fondly.

Brienne's chin quivered slightly as she tried to remain calm. She didn't want to cry, not now. She had released enough tears for him over the past few days, as poor Pod knew well…and in that case, probably so did Sansa.

Brienne sighed heavily. 'I don't want to become lord commander just because some man put in a word for me.'

She said the words scathingly, and her tone surprised Sansa. But then Sansa's face fell in sympathy; she understood. She had experienced grief more times than she could count, and she knew the stages well, and how different it was every time for each person. The anger was never an easy stage to be at. Sansa only wished she could remain here to see Brienne through it.

'Some man?' Sansa said sceptically, raising her eyebrows at her. 'That man loved you, Brienne. It was a tragedy, what his…tormented mind led him to do. But he loved you all the same. Besides, it wasn't just his word. You have been elected as the top choice for the position by all the lords and ladies in the council. The people choose you, Brienne. Not because Ser Jaime's influence made them, because you earned it. Because they know you to be the best warrior to protect the Six Kingdoms.'

'And what about the seventh kingdom, my lady? What about your kingdom?' Brienne asked urgently, torn about how to feel.

'The North will have me to look after it, along with some of the finest men in your force – those you'd be willing to give to me, that is. You'd need to build your own force here, of course. The Kingsguard and City Watch will be yours,' Sansa said, smiling at the thought, and Brienne felt a strange tingling sensation at her words. 'Imagine that…all those men following your orders…and the women you could give the opportunity to join it, to be like you.'

'But…how could I ever leave you?' Brienne said in a small voice.

Sansa was the symbol that had pulled Brienne and Jaime together. A joint mission for them both. What had it all been for, if she were to simply abandon all they had worked towards together and leave Sansa? What would Lady Catelyn have said?

Sansa sighed sadly. 'Bran needs loyal allies, Brienne. He needs protection,' she said gently. 'You know I'll be safe in Winterfell; I've given the North its independence back, no one will want to harm me there. You fulfilled your oath to my mother, and continue to do so by doing me this favour and protecting my brother. You'd be doing as she would have wanted.'

She was right of course. Brienne's purpose to both Sansa and Arya had been fulfilled. Neither of them were in danger from the world anymore. Only Catelyn's other child Bran remained vulnerable and in need of protection.

Brienne nodded slowly, deep in thought. 'You say you have released me from my oath, my lady, but…I don't wish that to be so. I will continue to serve all the children of Lady Catelyn's as best I can, according to their wishes. And if it is Bran Stark who needs me the most at present, then it is here I shall stay,' she said firmly, but then she frowned. 'If you're sure it would be wise…I doubt people will accept me being given such a position.'

'They will accept it when they know you and learn of your bravery, skill and honour,' Sansa said, smiling, and to Brienne's astonishment, she saw that Sansa's eyes were filled with tears. 'I'll miss you, Brienne. You were the first friend I made after my time with Ramsey, you helped me recover, you helped make me strong, you protected me and were there for me when times were at their darkest. I'll never be able to repay you for that. Please just know that I'm truly grateful for your friendship and loyalty.'

Brienne smiled, her eyes also suddenly rather wet. 'And I yours. I'll miss you as well, my lady. But I'll take on this new duty and swear myself to King Bran gladly. For Westeros. For your mother. And for you,' she said, and her voice shook slightly as she remembered speaking those last three words in a circumstance somewhat similar to this, in a room that would now become hers.

Sansa nodded triumphantly and rose to her feet. 'Then it is settled. I'll inform Bran that he has a new Lady Commander of the Kingsguard.'

Her voice rang out across the room proudly, and it was all Brienne could do not to let out a giddy gasp at the future that had just been determined for her. It may not have been the future she had hoped for, the one with Jaime at her side always and forever, but it was certainly one that the young girl who had dreamed longingly of becoming a knight would never have expected to become reality in her later life. Brienne watched in a daze as Sansa left the room, still too stunned to register what had just transpired.

Jaime had broken her heart, there was no point in denying that. His leaving, his death…it had been a betrayal that had resulted in such distress and anger and pain that Brienne had never known the likes of before. But her love for him remained, even now. His dreams of being a great knight had been soured from the moment he'd pledged his service to the Mad King, but now Brienne had the chance to continue the work that he had wanted to do when she'd returned him to this city years ago. She could redeem and lead the Kingsguard and return the capital to its former glory. She could earn the respect of the realm. Her honourable work as the first female knight in all of Westeros would be an inspiration to all the young girls out there who felt like an outsider, who felt like they didn't belong.

Yes, she was still in mourning. Yes, she was still in the depths of despair and heartbreak. But she must carry on. She couldn't look too far ahead, not when she knew that nothing would ever be the same again, but she needed to be able to take the next step in this new role for Lady Sansa, and for Pod.

I'm so proud of you.

Brienne blinked rapidly as Jaime's kind voice rang through her head with the words she knew he would say if he were here. Perhaps in some ways he still was.

She smiled to herself; the first time she had done so in two months. I'm to be the Lady Commander of the Kingsguard, Jaime. Who'd have thought it?

Brienne then got up to her feet and left the room to tell Pod the first piece of good news she'd had since the day Jaime had left Winterfell, unable to stop herself from smirking as she imagined what the younger Jaime from their time on the road together would have said if he could see her now.

When Brienne woke up, it took her a few moments to remember where she was. The shabby room was unfamiliar to her, as was the feel of the soft mattress beneath her. When was the last time she had slept on a proper bed, besides the one at Harrenhal? She wasn't sure.

They had managed to find shelter, for once, at a tavern they had been passing on the kingsroad as the sun was setting. Steelshanks had been wary at first, but then the rest of the soldiers had grumbled about not getting proper food or enough sleep, and when Qyburn had insisted that both Jaime and Brienne needed a wash and proper rest for the sake of their wounds, Steelshanks gave in. They had given false names and luckily no one inside the inn had recognised the Kingslayer – not that they'd have had much chance against Bolton's men if they had – so the exhausted, grumpy group of travellers had been given plenty of ale and good food, and even some rooms to sleep in. Brienne had retired to her room early, too weary and shy to participate in the drunken merriment, and fallen asleep the moment her head had hit the soft pillow.

Now, as Brienne slowly got out of bed and looked out of the window to see the break of dawn, she felt refreshed and well-rested for the first time in months. Her stomach rumbling with hunger, she crossed over to the chest of drawers where she'd folded up her new tunic and breeches. Jaime had forced Steelshanks to buy Brienne some appropriate clothes while on the road a few days ago, fed up with seeing her discomfort at wearing the ragged pink gown, and she was grateful, but couldn't help wishing for her original suit of armour that she missed so dearly. Wearing this nondescript brown garb, she no longer looked like a knight. She looked like a regular civilian. Just a tall ugly woman with nothing special or remotely extraordinary about her.

Once she had washed and dressed, Brienne then opened the door to head downstairs for some breakfast…only to gasp in shock at the lump of rags lying at the foot of her doorway, out on the landing. There came a grunt of shock as the lump of rags woke up.

'Ser Jaime!'

Jaime yelped and scrambled up to his feet, stumbling slightly as he looked at her with heavy bags under his eyes. 'Gods, you really do look much worse than usual in the morning, you know,' he greeted.

He was trying to deflect – something that Brienne had noticed had become a pastime for him during this past week on the road. She stared at him, completely nonplussed, and her eyes turned to his bedroll that he'd laid out on the floor outside her door. She looked back up at him; his cheeks had reddened slightly. He looked both irritated and mortified. Clearly, he hadn't meant for her to ever see him here.

'What are you doing here?' she demanded, baffled.

'I…I was sleeping!' Jaime said defensively.

'Why? You had a room!' Brienne snapped, frowning, and she lowered her voice. 'You've got a price on your head, you can't just lie about anywhere in an inn where anyone can find you!'

Jaime groaned. 'The men were getting drunk downstairs,' he said indignantly. 'I didn't want them…'

He trailed off awkwardly as Brienne's lips parted and she stared at him in utter bewilderment. It was only then that Brienne realised that Jaime was almost as haunted by the attempted rape on her as she was.

He stayed here all night to make sure no one bothered me. Who is this man?

Feeling rather flustered all of a sudden, Brienne tried to look stern. 'I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself, you know,' she said coolly.

'I know. I just…wanted to make sure…You needed some rest,' Jaime said wearily. 'I thought I'd save you the aggravation of turning away lustful drunken men.'

'Y-you really didn't need to do that,' she murmured, mortified at the mere suggestion, and she looked down to try and hide her embarrassment.

Brienne was extremely certain that no drunken lustful man would ever in her life come knocking on her door.

'I know,' Jaime muttered, equally as embarrassed. 'But I wouldn't have been able to relax if-'

'Are you expecting me to believe you were relaxed on that floor all night?' Brienne said sceptically.

Jaime's lips twitched. 'Point taken.'

Brienne looked at him for a moment, then stepped to the side and gestured at him to come forward. 'Get in.'

'I'm sorry?' Jaime said, and to his horror his voice broke.

Brienne rolled her eyes. 'I have a basin, get yourself washed.'

'If you insist, my lady,' Jaime muttered.

He walked into her room, and Brienne shut the door behind him to give him some privacy – and also so he wouldn't have to see the flustered smile that fell on her lips as she looked down at the bedroll on the floor.

When the two of them eventually emerged downstairs, they found that Steelshanks and the rest of the soldiers were already there storing up on food before they resumed their journey. They all began guffawing the moment they saw Jaime and Brienne enter together.

'Ah here they are, the beauty and the beast.'

'Yeah, but which is which?'

There were more roars of laughter but Jaime and Brienne ignored them as they joined Qyburn, who alone remained silent, at a table in the far corner. While the soldiers loudly made crude jokes about what the two of them had got up to upstairs last night, Jaime and Brienne shot each other an uneasy glance.

'You brought this on yourself, you know,' Brienne snapped across the table, annoyed. 'What else did you think they'd say if you slept the night by my room?'

'I'm sorry,' Jaime said, and he meant it. 'Truly, I never meant…It's your reputation on the line, not mine. I have no reputation left to save.'

His reputation was broken beyond repair, but he could try to save Brienne's – at least, he could if these stupid men didn't insist on spreading rumours of 'the lovers'.

They set off not long after they'd finished their breakfast, though they were sad to leave the comforts of a roof over their head and a proper bed – who knew if they would get such luxury again before they reached King's Landing? They had acquired a new horse for Brienne a few days ago, thankfully, so she and Jaime rode apart from each other for a while to avoid giving Bolton's men more reason to laugh. By the afternoon, however, Jaime was bored and fed up of having nothing left to think of apart from what Cersei would say when she caught sight of the disgusting stump on the end of his right arm, so trotted over to Brienne for some much-needed bickering.

Since their initial departure from Harrenhal, Jaime had unconsciously developed a talent for always finding some way, no matter how obscure, to automatically end up insulting Brienne in every conversation they had while they travelled along the kingsroad, be it one of their usual arguments or even a rare deep talk about their personal lives when the moon rose high and the campfire was crackling between them. It was his coping mechanism. It was the only way he knew how to deal with Brienne and this messy newfound affection he had in him for her. Since the events of the bear pit, perhaps even since their dinner with Roose Bolton after their intimate moment alone together in Qyburn's quarters, Jaime had been acting as her nurse and carer – and on times even her loving, concerned husband – and he couldn't have that. He had to make sure that she, and everyone else around them, knew where he stood. But it was growing increasingly hard to act indifferent around her. Because he did care. He cared very much, far more than he ought to and far more than he allowed himself to admit.

It was during the evenings when Jaime grew less bothered about keeping up his heartless pretence, however, and the arguments and insults would quite often cease. That night, hours after they had made camp and eaten, Jaime moved to sit against a nearby tree trunk and covered himself with his bedroll; Brienne walked over to sit beside him and frowned.

'Don't you want to lie down?' she asked, while the other soldiers slept on the grassy ground around them.

'I'll feel better if I stay like this,' Jaime muttered.

He winced slightly as he adjusted his position against the tree trunk; he'd marked his chest badly when trying to get out of the bear pit, having slammed himself against the walls and cut himself slightly. He'd hoped it would have stopped hurting by now. He eyed Brienne warily; she was watching him in concern.

'It's just a scratch, it's nothing,' he said dismissively.

'It's just a scratch for now, but we're out in the open again and it could easily get infected. Qyburn would tell you as much if he were awake,' Brienne said sternly. 'Besides, it's been over a week and it's still not any better.'

Jaime rolled his eyes irritably. 'Fine, I…I'll get some dressing for it-'

'No, let me.'

He watched in surprise as Brienne walked over to fetch Qyburn's medical kit; she soon returned with a bandage, cloth and some more dressing. Jaime undid the top buttons of his tunic for her so she could clean the wound. They both knew that Qyburn should really be doing this, but he was glad it was Brienne. Besides, they'd become accustomed to such intimacy when she'd been caring for his stump in the woods back with Locke and his men.

Brienne could feel his eyes on her face while she worked, and she tried hard not to blush as she focussed her gaze on the wound he had gained at the bear pit. 'You're a bloody idiot, you know,' she muttered, though she spoke in an exasperatedly fond tone of voice.

'I know. And you're welcome,' Jaime said, and Brienne's eyes smiled.

Her fingers lingered slightly on his sprinkling of chest hair as she finished covering up the scratch with the new dressing. She wondered why she could feel Jaime's heartbeat racing on at such a strangely fast pace beneath her hand. They both paused and looked at each other, their lips parted as the confusion, and nerves overwhelmed them into speechlessness. Brienne then quickly leaned away from him, flustered, and he did the top buttons of his tunic back up without a single snide remark.

'Err…I could do with something to eat,' Jaime said distractedly, trying to keep his voice down as the soldiers slept and snored around them. 'I'll see if we've got anything left over – do you want anything?'

'No, but thank you,' Brienne said as she leaned back against the tree trunk, trying to maintain a calm composure as her heart raced.

Jaime nodded nervously and got up to his feet to try and hunt for more food in the satchel of leftover goods the innkeeper had given them all this morning before they had left the inn. Brienne's face kept swimming into view as he found some more bread and cheese…the feel of her fingers hesitating at the top of his chest…

What was that? What just happened?

Shaking his head to himself, he then headed back with the food, tiptoeing around the sleeping soldiers, only to find that Brienne's eyes were closed and her head was lolling against the tree trunk; she'd fallen asleep. Jaime sat down beside her with his bread and cheese and looked at her for a moment, at the way her greasy messy hair hung over her eyes, at the unflattering way her mouth was hanging open, and he smiled. Slowly, Jaime reached over and gently pushed her hair out of her face; Brienne gave a small sigh of contentment in her sleep but luckily didn't wake.

He found it so strange that after everything the two of them were here together, wounded and without armour, huddled beside each other in the dark and cold, in the protection of a large group of Northern soldiers escorting them back to the home he was no longer even that desperate to get back to. It was funny how drastically things could change in just a few months. He'd thought all of them had been bad changes – the loss of his sword hand in particular being a rather prominent one – but now, as he looked at Brienne's sleeping face, he realised he had been mistaken.

It didn't take Jaime and Brienne long once they'd woken up the next morning to resume their normal pattern of bickering.

'I was not snoring,' Brienne was saying angrily as they packed away their bedrolls and prepared to depart the woodland clearing.

'You were, you were relentless,' Jaime insisted, half-amused, half-infuriated. 'It's not very ladylike to snore, you know.'

Brienne scoffed. 'Well have you ever thought of me as a lady?'

Jaime looked at her. He got a fleeting image in his mind of her naked body stood before him in the bathtub, of the way that ridiculous pink dress had clung to her curvaceous figure, of her tender nurturing of his stump and wounds while they had been Locke's captives, of the way she had washed him and comforted him while he let his tears of shame fall in Qyburn's quarters.

'Yes,' he replied.

He sounded almost as surprised to say it as she felt to hear it.

They departed not long after that and carried on riding for a few days in the comforts of the secluded woods rather than out on the open kingsroad, though the two of them never spoke of (or dared to even think of) the intimate moment that had passed between them while she had dressed the wound on his chest. Not even Steelshanks and his men could deny that both Jaime and Brienne were weakened, tired and frail from their wounds – be it either the result of hand-maiming or angry slashes from a bear claw – so as they went on, Qyburn insisted on regular stops for the two of them to rest and be treated, and luckily Bolton's men didn't object.

Despite their exhaustion and limitations, as their journey to the capital continued, both Jaime and Brienne found strength and encouragement from one another and their freedom at last to talk as if to, not just an ally, but a friend. It was a relief that there was no more fighting, no more tension or hostile glances or cruel snide remarks (or at least, not ones to be taken seriously). There was only respect and affectionate bickering now, and perhaps something more that neither of them were prepared to acknowledge to themselves. They helped each other in times of need when the strain, exhaustion or pain was too much – Brienne would saddle his horse and help him onto it, and she would cut up his food for him at night, while Jaime would give her more blankets whenever they made camp at night and ensure that the angry gash at the bottom of her neck was well-cleaned and dressed.

For many days the weather turned foul, and they would shield each other from the rain and try to find shelter under trees and in the burnt remains of war-torn crumbling buildings. One evening, however, the clouds dissipated and in the quiet peace of the cool night they all made camp close to a river, glad to be out in the open for once.

Once they had all eaten, Brienne left the campfire to wash herself at the river; it only took a few minutes after she'd left their group for Jaime to feel bored and lost without her presence. He went to find her not long afterwards, having little in common with Bolton's men and little respect for any of them. She had gone about ten minutes' downstream, out of sight and out of mind, and had redressed, though had left the top buttons of her tunic undone and was currently trying to redress the scarring at the top of her chest. A full moon was out, and there was only the sound of the trickle of water as Jaime walked over to her. Even the men telling tales by the fire couldn't be heard. It had never been more peaceful.

'Let me,' Jaime said quietly.

Brienne jumped slightly as she turned around to face him, pausing with the wet cloth in her hands. 'I wish you wouldn't sneak up on me like that,' she snapped, trying to conceal her surprise at seeing him here.

'Sorry,' Jaime murmured, fighting back a smile.

He walked over to her and held his hand out for the cloth with his eyebrows raised; they both knew it would be much easier for someone else to tend to her wound rather than her attempt to do it herself. Brienne sighed and reluctantly handed over the cloth and he stepped forward and began to dab at the ugly claw marks that the bear had left at the bottom of her neck, trying to breathe normally so she wouldn't be able to sense his nerves. It was strange…he had never once cared for the welfare of anyone who wasn't a Lannister. He didn't understand what had happened to him since meeting this woman.

While Jaime continued to wash the gash on her neck, his hand lingered slightly on the top of the soft skin of her chest, just as hers had done on his that night in the woods last week, and he looked at her. Her blue eyes looked like huge magnificent orbs reflecting the moonlight. They were beautiful.

'You know what they say of us?' Jaime murmured, averting his gaze as he redressed her wound.

'Yes,' Brienne said, though her voice came out in a whisper as she wondered where he was going with this; they both knew they'd been referred to as 'the lovers' for many weeks now, ever since Locke had taken them captive.

Jaime swallowed. 'Do you think recently we've…perhaps given them more reason to say such things?' he asked, still avoiding her eye contact.

There was a slight pause. Brienne's heart was beating as fast as it had back in that bear pit.

'Perhaps,' she replied, her voice slightly higher than usual. 'I wouldn't know, not really.'

He'd finished then, though he didn't step back as he withdrew his hands from the re-dressed wound on her neck. He brought his eyes back up to look into hers, and for a moment he forgot everything…the men drinking by the camp nearby, Cersei and King's Landing waiting for his return, his horrible stump…everything but Brienne.

'I should never have left you there. At Harrenhal,' Jaime said, a lump in his throat; seeing that gash on her neck was a constant reminder to him of that day in the bear pit, and it filled him with guilt. 'I'm sorry.'

Brienne shook her head. 'Don't be. You had no obligation to me, and…Roose Bolton didn't give you much of a choice. Not that you listened,' she said, almost disapprovingly. 'You came back for me.'

'I hope you know that I always will, from now on.'

He said the words beseechingly, his gaze earnest and sincere, and Brienne almost felt like bursting out laughing. She didn't understand. Was he drunk? Was he mad? Such a statement felt almost romantic, and if anyone else had heard him say such a thing…well, Brienne could scarcely think of those consequences. The rumours were bad enough.

'Ser Jaime, are you quite well?' she said, flustered.

Jaime chuckled. 'Quite well, thank you. Have I embarrassed you?' he asked, tilting his head at her.

Brienne frowned. 'Not…embarrassed as such, no. I'm just a little confused.'

'That makes two of us,' Jaime said, and he tore his eyes away from her and back towards the direction of the campfire, filled with both discomfort and intrigue. 'We should head back, they'll be…wondering what we've got up to.'

Brienne raised her eyebrows and before she'd even had time to think, she said, 'You made that sound rather indecent.'

The corner of Jaime's lips curled up into a sly smile as he frowned back at her, bemused by her statement. 'I did, didn't I?' he murmured.

They looked at each other in silence, both of them terrified of one another's longing gaze and disgusted with each other for letting them entertain such feelings of…what were they feeling? Neither of them knew. Neither of them understood. It made no sense, none of it did. Exhaling shakily, Brienne then hurried past Jaime without another word, glad that the darkness of the night concealed the way she blushed. Jaime turned and watched as she headed back towards camp, frowning.

I've been away from Cersei for too long. Yes, that must be it. There's no other explanation.

Neither of them spoke to each other for the rest of that night, other than to bid each other goodnight when the time came for their assembled group to sleep in preparation for tomorrow's early start. As they always did, the two of them slept beside each other against one of the few trees surrounding them by the river, though rather than lying on the ground, they'd set up their bedrolls against the trunk.

When Jaime's eyes fluttered open the next morning, he was surprised to see that he'd been leaning his head on Brienne's, and even more surprised to see that her head was resting on his shoulder as she continued to sleep. Though slightly taller than him, she'd slumped down against the trunk so that she was positioned lower; he wondered if she'd consciously decided to use his shoulder as a pillow, or if it had accidentally happened in the middle of the night. Though quite mortified, Jaime found himself also quite touched, and he smiled as he slowly leaned off her.

Some of the soldiers were beginning to wake and get up around him; Jaime felt he ought to help them prepare for the journey, but couldn't bring himself to move away from the tree trunk with Brienne sleeping so peacefully against him. When Brienne eventually woke up and realised that she was leaning on him, she immediately leapt up at once in horror, flustered.

'Sleep well?' Jaime greeted teasingly as he got up to his feet as well.

Brienne's face had never been redder. 'Why didn't you wake me? You shouldn't have let me…forgive me, Ser Jaime, I never meant-'

But Jaime cut over her with a roll of his eyes. 'Relax. It's fine. I'm glad I could be of service,' he said, and with a wink he then walked over to get himself a drink of water.

A few of Bolton's soldiers were sniggering over at them from afar. Qyburn remained unamused; only he saw this new bizarre friendship as something pure and wholesome rather than something to be mocked and laughed at. Steelshanks also seemed to struggle with seeing the funny side of things, as he expressed to Jaime not long before they set off.

'You keep sleeping next to each other,' Steelshanks said disapprovingly.

Jaime raised his eyebrows. 'Gods be good, I hope my fellow brothers in the Kingsguard spare my life once they hear of this monstrosity.'

'I don't appreciate your tone of mockery, Ser Jaime,' Steelshanks said through gritted teeth.

'Well I don't appreciate your insinuation,' Jaime said in a warning voice, glaring down at him. 'You and your men will speak no more about it, is that clear?'

Steelshanks sighed heavily. 'Very clear, Ser Jaime.'

From then on, if Bolton's men continued to laugh at Jaime and Brienne, they kept very quiet about it. Even though they knew the gossip and teasing still occurred, it was a relief for Jaime and Brienne to pretend otherwise, so they could continue to bond with each other over the rest of their journey back to King's Landing. As their strength picked up, with help from Qyburn's treatments, they would take advantage of their rare bursts of energy during the day and race each other along the fields and through the woods on their horses, and when their aches and pains and exhaustion came back to them at night, they would speak uncharacteristically soothing words of comfort and encouragement to each other and help tend to one another's wounds. They never spoke of their moment by the river, though they came close.

'You're like a different person, you know, to who you were when we first met,' Brienne said one evening, as they sat together on a stone bench outside an old unoccupied brothel.

They were just a couple of days out from arriving at King's Landing now, and had come across an empty village that Steelshanks had deemed good enough to stop at for the night.

'It's only been a few months, but…it's like you have two different sides to you,' Brienne went on, frowning at him. 'It's very…odd.'

Jaime raised his eyebrows at her. 'Speak for yourself!' he pointed out, and she tilted her head at him irritably. 'It's more confusing to me than it is to you, believe me. But…I am who I am. And I think – I hope – I've paid the prices for the choices I've made in my life.'

'Sometimes you didn't have a choice,' Brienne said in a small voice, and Jaime smiled sadly.

'I appreciate that. But still. I think if I could, I'd give my other hand to rewrite my past. But I can't,' he murmured in a slightly shaky voice, and to Brienne's astonishment she saw that there were tears in his eyes as he turned to face her. 'Not even for you, Lady Brienne. I just can't.'

Her chin quivered slightly as she gazed at him. 'You don't need to,' she whispered.

Jaime gave her a sad smile before straightening up and exhaling deeply, blinking away his tears before they had chance to fall. 'So, if you say I'm like a different person…does that mean I can be reassured that you're warming towards me slightly, Lady Brienne?' he asked, in an almost playful tone.

Brienne swallowed slightly as she looked at him. ''Slightly' might be overstretching it. But…yes,' she said begrudgingly. 'I can learn to like you, if that is what you'd wish.'

'And I you,' Jaime said, and he smiled at her.

In one way they were still practically strangers to each other, and yet in another way they were one person, bonded irrevocably together and willing to follow one another to the great unknown, as long as they stuck by each other's side. And Jaime knew inexplicably that, as long as Brienne was here, everything would be all right. He just wished he knew why he was suddenly wishing that they weren't taking him back to King's Landing after all.

Stay with me, Jaime wanted to say to Brienne. If she stayed in the capital with him, perhaps he could face whatever the future would bring. But she would never want that. After all, who would ever want to stay with Jaime Lannister?

~ Present Day ~

The day Sansa left for Winterfell was a gloomy one indeed.

Brienne had never seen Pod cry before, not even during the battle at Winterfell, but as he embraced a tearful Sansa and kissed her for the last time before she set sail from the harbour, he began to sob quietly to himself. This time, it was Brienne's turn to comfort him. It was a peculiar sensation.

'Do you think we'll see her again?' Pod asked in a quiet voice, a few hours after they had watched Sansa's ship sail away back to the North.

'Of course we will. But Pod…you do have a choice, you know,' Brienne said, frowning at him in concern. 'If you'd prefer to be part of her Queensguard and return to Winterfell, I'd understand, and King Bran wouldn't object in the slightest-'

'No. I'm not leaving you, milady, and I'd never want to,' Pod interrupted her firmly, his tone and expression sincere. 'We stick together. Always.'

Brienne considered him for a moment, deeply touched, then gave him a stiff nod before wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

The new small council session was due to be held in a few days' time, Tyrion had tentatively announced earlier…a few days of freedom until they began the impossible talk of rebuilding this once-wondrous city and reconciling the six kingdoms. A few days for Brienne to grow used to the new role Bran had granted her the day before Sansa had left.

Her new armour was magnificent and gold, and had a raven sigil imprinted on it, for Bran. It was strange, to think that the armour Jaime had long ago bestowed upon her would now never need to be worn again. She had a new uniform now, a new identity, a new purpose. And yet Brienne knew that she would never be able to bring herself to discard of her most beloved suit of armour. She would have to store it somewhere, perhaps even leave it standing in her new bedchambers – or indeed, Jaime's old ones – so that she could look upon it and remember from time to time.

'So, what will your first act as Lady Commander be, milady?' Pod asked the next morning, as Brienne tried on her new armour for the first time.

The two of them had spent their free time inspecting the Red Keep and making notes of where the damage was worst and what should be their priority. Pod had assumed they'd been taking a random route this morning during their examination of the broken remains of the castle, but from the slight smile in Brienne's eyes as she looked at him now, he suddenly became doubtful as to whether that was indeed the case.

'There's only one thing it can be,' she said. 'Come with me.'

Curious, Pod followed her down the corridor as she pushed open the grand front doors to the great hall. The refurbishment had already begun in this once-splendid room, but there was a great gaping hole where the Iron Throne had once stood, and the walls and ceiling surrounding it were barely standing. It was a wonder the place was still intact. It took a while for Pod to fully adjust to the sight of what the Dragon Queen had done, but then finally he regained his focus and saw Tyrion and Bronn stood with smug, almost proud smiles on their faces, watching him expectantly as if they had been waiting for him. Pod frowned at them, bemused, but then noticed that Brienne had come to a halt in the centre of the hall and withdrawn her sword.

She inclined her head at him as she pointed her sword towards the stone floor. 'Kneel, Podrick,' she said, her voice echoing around the remains of the hall.

Pod's lips parted in shock as he realised what was happening. 'B-but…milady-'

'Please,' Brienne interrupted, and her tone was unusually gentle. 'Kneel.'

Swallowing and trying desperately not to let the tears form, Pod walked over to Brienne and knelt down on one knee, glancing over at Tyrion and Bronn, his closest companions from his time living in this city. They both gave him a reassuring grin as Brienne rested Oathkeeper upon his shoulder.

Brienne took a deep breath. 'In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave,' she rang out, her voice wavering ever so slightly. 'In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent.'

A tear trickled down her cheek as she finished, though whether it was pride for Pod or sadness for Jaime, she couldn't tell. Perhaps it was a mixture of both. She had been ready for this moment for quite some time, and she hadn't needed to learn the words. They had been engrained in her memory from the moment Jaime had spoken them to her that night in front of the fire at Winterfell.

'Arise, Podrick Payne,' Brienne said, and the smile on her face was true and genuine as she declared him, 'a knight of the Seven Kingdoms.'

Pod leapt to his feet, hardly daring to believe that it could really be true, that Brienne could really have done this for him and had such faith in him. He smiled breathlessly up at his mentor; she had never looked prouder, and it made him feel like crying all over again. Pod couldn't wait to write to Sansa and tell her about this. He couldn't wait to wake up tomorrow morning and realise it wasn't a dream. He knew how painful it must have been for Brienne to relive such a vivid memory of Jaime. He knew how much such a moment and vows such as these meant to her. And he could never have hoped for anyone more worthy and honourable to grant him his lifelong wish.

Stretching up on his tiptoes, Pod reached up to hug her. Brienne hugged him back as Tyrion and Bronn cheered and clapped for their friend. Over Pod's shoulder, Brienne glanced at Tyrion and saw that tears were falling down his cheeks into his beard. She couldn't tell if he were simply emotional at seeing how far his young squire had come in this world or if he was simply lost in the precious memory of Jaime doing the same thing for Brienne. The sight of his tears made Brienne's chin begin to quiver, but she managed to hold it together as she tried to focus only on the good of what that memory brought her now. What a wonderful night it had been. One of the best moments of her entire life. And nothing could take that away from her. Doing what Jaime had done for her to Pod now, knowing how much it meant to Pod as well, only made it more special.

That evening, once Pod had finally stopped thanking Brienne, Tyrion and Bronn took the new knight out for drinks at the one remaining inn in the city to celebrate his accomplishment. They invited Brienne along, but she politely declined, having put on enough of a brave face for today. She needed time to herself now, to brood and mourn and rest from the mental exertions of socialising and working, and she knew Pod understood. Perhaps one day she would feel ready to get back out into the real world and enjoy herself a bit more with food and drink and laughter, as she had done in Winterfell. But today was not that day.

It was her first night in her new bedchambers, and Brienne knew that nothing could prepare her for the overwhelming flood of emotions that would hit her the moment she walked through those doors. She didn't know what she would feel exactly, or how she would react, but she knew she had to get it over with. Dragging it out would only make it more painful.

A great deal of the castle was heavily damaged, but by some miracle the Tower of the Lord Commander remained intact. There was a generous amount of apartments within, including the room containing the Book of Brothers…the book now in her sole charge, hers to write whatever she liked in, to carry on the stories of those they had lost and those who had prevailed. She went on up the winding stairwell, just as she had done years ago that day she'd paid a visit, and stepped through into Jaime's old bedchambers.

The Red Keep was filled with reminders of Jaime all over, but none quite so vivid as in this room.

Brienne stepped forward tentatively into her new quarters, the place she would now call home, and looked around with a hollow ache in her chest. The clothes and armour that Jaime had abandoned before leaving for Winterfell were still there. His old white Kingsguard cloak lay discarded on a chair in the corner of the room. Brienne ran her hand along the soft fabric before putting it aside, blinking away tears. Hung up against the ornate wardrobe was one of Jaime's brown leather jerkins, similar to the one he had worn during their time together at Winterfell. It had been his most attractive look, in Brienne's opinion.

Her eyes fell to the divan at the foot of the bed, and Brienne instantly got a fleeting image of her younger self sat there beside Jaime, her hand resting over his stump, his hand over hers, as she'd comforted him after Joffrey's death.

'We know each other too well. You can read me like an open book.'

'I wouldn't say that, Ser Jaime. You're the most complicated man I've ever met.'

'Have you met many complicated men, Lady Brienne?'

She remembered how short and smart his haircut had been, how refined his clothes were, how smooth his cheeks had looked without the beard, the sharpness of his jawline. Back then he had been the golden-lion Jaime, before her bearded shaggy Jaime had returned to her years later when he'd turned up in the courtyard at Winterfell. Two very different masks, and yet the same good man underneath it all. If only he had seen it.

A lump rose in Brienne's throat as her eyes then turned to the bed, magnificent and big enough for four people, let alone two. She thought of their last night together in Winterfell…the way he had held her and kissed her…the way he had whispered, 'Goodnight, my love' while she lay beside him with her eyes closed. She'd pretended to be asleep at the time, not wanting to scare him by addressing the fact that he had never called her 'my love' before. She'd been planning on teasing him about it a few days later, once she'd had time to recover from her delirious happiness over hearing him say such a thing…a delirious happiness that she could barely remember now. She wondered if she would ever feel anything close to such a thing again.

For a moment, as she walked around Brienne thought that she could recognise Jaime's scent in this room, surrounded with his various garments and belongings, but of course she knew she was just imagining it; it had been a very long time since Jaime had occupied these chambers. She would never smell his scent again, nor see him in these splendid clothes, nor hear his smooth voice, nor feel his strong arms or his tender lips on hers, nor meet his loving gaze. He was nothing but a ghost in this room, a memory. He was gone.

Feeling strangely empty, Brienne then caught side of a book that had been left on the table in the corner of the room. She frowned curiously and flickered through it, only to be surprised by the many untidy scrawls and drawings that filled the pages. Her breath caught in her throat as her hand turned over the page to reveal a drawing of a suit of armour, and she froze as she recognised Jaime's hand. The words 'blue, for sapphire isle' had been scribbled beside the drawing of the armour, along with a design of the belt and scabbard to go with a sword. Not just any sword, she knew. Oathkeeper. There had been endless attempts at lion heads and sunbursts; he had scribbled away on the pages relentlessly until he had perfected his design of the Tarth sigil. Her trembling lips smiled, and for one blissful moment Brienne felt the feeling of emptiness within disappear.

That night she lay down with her head on the luxuriously soft pillow thinking of a simpler time, imagining Jaime as he'd stayed up late into the hours of the night to draw and design the armour that he would gift her with, fresh from their time together travelling on the road by the romantic privacy of the river and the secluded warmth of the cosy campfire…

Out of habit, Brienne murmured, 'Goodnight, Jaime.'

Goodnight, my love, she heard his voice whisper back, and a tear trickled down her cheek onto the pillow where Jaime had once slept.