Based on events during Episode 6 of GoT Season 8

(Also includes flashback from Episode 8 of GoT Season 6)

The next morning, Brienne woke and to her surprise didn't feel instantly confused by the feel and sight of the large bedposts and ornate furniture. There was a strange sense of familiarity about this room, as if it had always been hers, as if she had always been meant to be here. She rose from the comfortable bed and put on her bedrobe before walking out onto the balcony and surveying the sight of the city down below. The capital had been turned into a graveyard of ash and rubble and chaos, but thankfully the work had already started on the rebuilding. She could already see people out and about, ready to turn a new page in their lives. It gave Brienne hope that perhaps one day there would be colour and light in King's Landing once again.

There was then a knock at the door, startling her. Who would be wanting to speak to her so early in the morning?

'Who is it?' Brienne asked, coming back in from the balcony.

'It's Tyrion, my lady,' the visitor called back to her from behind the closed door.

Brienne paused. She hadn't spoken with Tyrion alone since the day of the trial. She wasn't sure if she was quite ready to face him or the things he no doubt had to say just yet.

Hesitantly, she said, 'Come in.'

Tyrion pushed open the door and entered. It was hard not to notice the fact that he was carrying a sword much too big for him, and not just any sword – even from this distance she could tell it was Valyrian steel. Widow's Wail. Brienne looked away from it; she'd brought that sword to King's Landing so that it could be with Jaime in his final resting place, wherever that may be. She didn't want to see it here.

Tyrion paused the moment he saw her. 'Forgive me, you're not dressed yet, I can come back-'

'It's quite all right, I'm decent,' Brienne said impatiently as she folded her arms against her bedrobe; she didn't care about such matters anymore.

Tyrion nodded and walked towards her, looking around her new bedchambers wistfully. 'I haven't been in here for years,' he said. 'I almost forgot how he lived in such luxury compared to myself.'

'And yet you lived in luxury ten thousand times more than most normal folk,' Brienne dryly, wishing he would just get to the point. 'How may I help you, Lord Tyrion?'

'I wanted to see how you'd settled in,' Tyrion said politely, coming to a halt as he looked up at her and resting the sword on the floor.

'Fine, thank you.'

'Considering half the castle has collapsed, and given everything that's happened, I suppose you-'

'I said I'm fine, Tyrion,' Brienne interrupted him curtly.

Tyrion swallowed and nodded. She didn't want to talk to Tyrion about this, about any of it. She only felt comfortable talking to Pod.

'How is Pod?' Brienne asked, if only to break the tense silence. 'I hope you didn't get him too drunk last night.'

'Fear not, he's already up and about the castle,' Tyrion reassured her, and he smiled. 'I can't tell you how delighted he was about what you did for him yesterday.'

'He's deserved a knighthood for a long time,' Brienne said fondly.

'As did you. One of the only good things my brother did,' Tyrion murmured, and Brienne's face fell.

'Oh he did many good things in his life,' she said, her voice shaking ever so slightly. 'He just never talked about them. Only the bad.'

Tyrion nodded heavily and gazed up at her, considering her deeply, his brow furrowed. 'No one's more pleased than myself at your new appointment, my lady, but I…I am concerned for your wellbeing,' he said tentatively. 'Don't you think it will be painful, staying here at the Red Keep? You spent a lot of time with him here, after Lady Catelyn's death.'

Brienne stared at him incredulously. 'Of course it will be painful. But those memories are all I have. It feels right to be here.'

There was a pause as the two of them looked at each other.

A lump rose in Tyrion's throat and he stepped forward. 'Ser Brienne, I owe you an apology.'

'What for?' Brienne asked warily.

'I…wasn't going to tell you this, but…I can't not, not when it's been eating away at me,' Tyrion said, and Brienne frowned. 'I fear I may have…influenced Jaime a little, in his decision to return to the capital. It wasn't intentional, please believe that. I was just…I challenged him on what his plans were, the night before I left Winterfell with Daenerys.'

'The night you two went to the inn,' Brienne murmured thoughtfully, lost in memory. 'I thought he was in an odd mood when he came back home. Well, not home. My chambers.'

'And that was his home – his new home, his happy home. He wanted it to be…it should have been,' Tyrion said, looking dismayed. 'But I planted the seed in his mind. Bronn had come that night on orders of Cersei, and…well, it made me worried that Jaime wouldn't be able to put her out of his mind. And I think I…made him doubt. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything to him…if I hadn't then maybe he-'

'You sound like Lady Sansa. She too was kind enough to try and defend him. But you shouldn't blame yourself and make excuses for his choices,' Brienne said, the look in her eyes cold. 'We both know he would have come back here anyway, regardless of whether either of you had said anything.'

Tyrion looked doubtful. 'Perhaps…but perhaps not. I suppose we'll never know,' he murmured.

'I suppose not,' Brienne said shortly. 'Why are you really here?'

Tyrion cleared his throat as he turned his attention to Widow's Wail in his hands. 'I, err…I have your sword,' he replied, 'it was left in the Tower of the Hand, I just wanted to return it to you.'

'That's not my sword, that's Jaime's – it…it was Jaime's,' Brienne corrected him, her voice breaking on the last word.

'Yes,' Tyrion agreed gently. 'But he left it for you.'

'He must have forgotten it when he left that night,' Brienne said dismissively.

'He'd taken a different sword from the armoury at Winterfell, did he not? So…swapping that so that he could leave Widow's Wail with you was a deliberate choice,' Tyrion pointed out, frowning at her.

Brienne merely turned away. 'If you say so.'

'Ser Brienne.'

Brienne paused and closed her eyes. Hearing her being called 'Ser' brought a lump to her throat every time. Hearing the word from Tyrion's lips didn't help matters. She got a sudden fleeting mental image of Jaime resting his sword on her shoulder in front of Tyrion and the others by the fire. It seemed like a dream now.

'He'd written…a will, of sorts,' Tyrion went on, making Brienne look up. 'Dated a few years back, but…it still stands officially, signed by two witnesses, he did it by the book. It was found in the maester's quarters. Or what was left of them, at least.'

'Why are you telling me this?' Brienne asked, confused; did he only mean to upset her even more?

'Because you're mentioned in it,' Tyrion replied quietly.

Brienne took a step back from him, shaking her head in disbelief. 'That's…not possible,' she whispered, as if almost afraid by what Tyrion was saying.

'I have it here,' Tyrion said, and from his jacket pocket he pulled out a folded-up piece of parchment. 'He'd…left many of his belongings to Tommen and Myrcella…and not as much to Cersei as she would have liked, I must say. And here, he says, 'To Brienne of Tarth-''

'No,' Brienne cut over him in a tremoring voice, her eyes watering all of a sudden. 'Forgive me, Lord Tyrion, but may I read it myself?'

Tyrion smiled sympathetically and handed the parchment over to her. 'Of course.'

Brienne took the parchment from him and spread it out in her hands.

To Brienne of Tarth, without whom I would not have returned safely to King's Landing, I leave my sword, Widow's Wail, in the hope that she will reunite it with its twin, named Oathkeeper, and use them both in her honourable duty to be brave, just and defend the innocent.

'See? He'd already practically proclaimed you a knight even back then,' Tyrion said, once she had finished reading.

It was Jaime's hand, there was no doubt about that; Brienne recognised the untidy scrawl from when she'd tirelessly tried to help him learn to write with his left hand when they had arrived at the capital.

'When was this written?' Brienne asked in a small voice.

'A few weeks after…my father's death – it explains why I'm not…featured in it,' Tyrion replied awkwardly. 'You'd left the capital quite a while ago, I believe.'

He then held out Widow's Wail to her, though judging by the tremor in his facial expression, the strength needed to lift it up seemed to cost him greatly.

'It's yours,' Tyrion said proudly.

The words seemed to strike a chord with Brienne as she looked into his eyes and then gazed down at the sword he was holding out to her.

It's yours. It will always be yours.

She felt a tear form in her eye as she looked in front of her and suddenly saw, not Tyrion, but a much taller, handsome man stood before her in the middle of a red tent. That day had been so very long ago…and yet to Brienne, it felt like only yesterday…

Riverrun's walls rose tall and proud from the waters of the vast lake encircling it. Brienne and Pod came to a halt on their horses as they looked out at the fields occupied by hundreds of tents, horses and soldiers, all surrounding the impenetrable castle.

'Looks like a siege, milady,' Pod noted, looking up at her.

Brienne barely refrained from rolling her eyes. 'You have a keen military mind, Pod,' she said dryly.

The two of them had been tasked with delivering Lady Sansa's letter to Brynden Tully – otherwise known as the Blackfish – who had regrouped his forces whilst under siege from the Freys, in order to recruit him to the Stark's cause and acquire reinforcements to take back Winterfell from Ramsey Bolton. However, it was evident from the sight before them that this task would prove even more challenging than Brienne had first anticipated.

There were too many tents and soldiers for it to just be House Frey besieging the castle, and the sea of red spread out before them across the fields made it clear exactly which other House was helping them. No doubt some of these Lannister men would spot Brienne and Pod soon and detain them; keen to survey their territory quickly, Brienne looked around to observe the situation with her careful, sharp eyes. There were so many soldiers – how would she and Pod get past them to talk to the Blackfish? – and she could see a large group of even more of them riding down the centre of the campsite, led by a man on an extraordinary white horse that stood out easily amongst all the others. The man was clearly a knight and even more clearly in charge of the mission here today, judging from his magnificent armour and the confident way in which he led the group, his head held high, his hands – no, hand – taking control of the reigns –

Brienne began blinking rapidly.

It can't be.

Even from this distance, there was no mistaking him. She recognised his shape, the way he moved, the look of authority on his face as he gave out orders to his men.

It was Jaime Lannister.

Her heart thudded unsteadily as Brienne tried to control her expression and remember why she and Pod were here. It was hard to keep focussed now though…now that she knew after so long, after all this time pining and wondering if she would ever see him again, that at last they were in the same place, merely metres apart. For so long she had tried to keep thoughts of Jaime at bay, but now she was overwhelmed by the onslaught of memories…the look on Jaime's face the last time they'd seen each other as they bid farewell and she rode away…the way he'd placed his hand over hers as they'd sat together in his bedchambers…how he'd tended to her wounds and spoke tenderly to her of those embarrassing rumours while they'd camped by the river and the woods on the way back from Harrenhal…the bear pit…the bathtub…

She swallowed nervously. She had never seen Jaime ride without injury or exhaustion before; he looked good on horseback. Better than that – he looked incredible on horseback. Godly, even. She felt her lips twitch ever so slightly into what could almost be a half-smile as she watched him.

'My lady. My lady!' Pod then said urgently, but Brienne barely heard him or the hooves of horses galloping towards them.

She was so distracted gazing over at Jaime that it took her a few moments to realise that they had been surrounded by several Lannister soldiers. But this didn't bother her. She could sense Pod panicking at her side, but Brienne knew now that they wouldn't be in any danger here. Not when Jaime was in charge.

'Who goes there? State your business!' one of the soldiers commanded.

'My name is Brienne of Tarth. Please inform Ser Jaime Lannister I've come to speak with him,' Brienne replied confidently, and Pod jerked his head round at her in alarm. 'Tell him I have his sword.'

The soldiers exchanged suspicious glances.

'How is it you know the Kingslayer?' the first soldier demanded.

'Ser Jaime,' Brienne corrected him, and there was a smug glint in her eyes as she returned his glare. 'And you don't have enough time to waste hearing that story. Take me to him.'

One of the other soldiers scoffed. 'You really think Ser Jaime Lannister will want to speak to the likes of you? You think he has time to-?'

'By all means, you can ask him, I'm just wanting to save us all time,' Brienne cut over him loudly. 'Brienne of Tarth – that's all you have to say to him.'

The first soldier gave her a penetrating stare. 'You seem very sure of yourself.'

'Yes. I am.'

They were a silent for a few seconds and then –

'You'd better come with us.'

Brienne nodded, trying to maintain a cool composure, and gave Pod a reassuring glance before the two of them rode into the camp with the Lannister soldiers. They were escorted to a tent not too far from where she had seen Jaime on his white horse; once inside, the first soldier instructed Brienne and Pod to wait in silence while he sought out Ser Jaime. Brienne could sense from his anxious pacing that Pod was uneasy, but she felt strangely calm. Well, not quite calm. Her heart was racing and her hands were twitching with nerves, but it wasn't out of fear. She realised she was both apprehensive and excited about seeing Jaime again after all this time.

What if he doesn't want to see me and turns me away? What if he's forgotten about me?

Trying to ignore the irritating paranoid voice in her head, Brienne looked around at the swords and shields all stored in the tent she and Pod had been left in. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the shields and sighed. Brienne rarely wished for a pretty face nowadays, having become so accustomed to the constant mockery of her looks, but right now she found herself longing for the features, hair and shape a man would want. This was their reunion after all; it would do no good for Jaime to see her after so much time apart only to find her dirty and sweaty, and most likely uglier and even more manly than he had remembered her as. She reached a hand up to fix her hair and slicked it back in desperation, but it was no use. She would just have to do as she was.

'Are you all right, milady?' Pod asked quietly. 'You seem a little…agitated.'

'I'm fine,' Brienne muttered.

He smiled sympathetically. 'I'm sure he'll be pleased to see you.'

Brienne looked up at him. 'I appreciate that, Pod, but I…I'm not so sure about that,' she said doubtfully.

What's taking so long? Where is he?

Meanwhile, merely a few metres down the campsite, Jaime himself stood by the large ornate table taking up most of the space within his luscious tent, his eyes surveying the large map of Riverrun's grounds. He had been sent to assist the Freys in retaking Riverrun from the Blackfish, but it was hard for Jaime to ignore his irritable mood; he was still reeling from embarrassment and shame after being expelled from the Kingsguard by King Tommen Baratheon…his own son. Determined to prove his worth, Jaime had arrived with thousands of Lannister soldiers and knights, and he had successfully taken control of the siege. However, Jaime's attempted parlay with the Blackfish had gone terribly – as expected, it would most likely turn to bloodshed – and so the combined Lannister and Frey forces were currently digging trenches and positioning trebuchets around the castle, ready for the inevitable battle. Part of Jaime wished it wouldn't come to this, but he knew there was no other way. Besides, why should he shy away from the Lannister legacy, from the fear that came with that name, from the bloodshed and death that name carried? He had no reason to anymore.

Jaime cursed under his breath as a soldier then walked through into the tent, bold as anything; why did these imbeciles always interrupt him? Did they not realise he had important work to carry out?

'Ser Jaime, forgive the intrusion, but you have a visitor,' the soldier announced.

Jaime looked up at him incredulously. 'In case you haven't realised, I'm a little preoccupied at the minute. There isn't much time for entertaining any visitors,' he said in an exasperated tone.

'Just as well,' the soldier said smugly. 'It's a woman dressed in armour, she just turned up claiming she wants to speak to you about your sword. Stupid bitch-'

But Jaime cut over him at once, his eyes wide. 'A woman?'

The soldier raised his eyebrows. 'If you can call that a woman, yes. She calls herself Brienne of-'

'-Tarth, yes. I know her,' Jaime said urgently, his heart suddenly racing, the map on the table completely forgotten. 'She's here? Are you sure? Is she well?'

The soldier paused and stared at Jaime for a moment. Was he being serious?

'I'm sorry?' he said, confused.

Jaime's cheeks coloured slightly. 'I-I only meant that I hope you have treated her with respect. She's really here?' he said in disbelief, and he found himself smiling.

'Y-yes, my lord-'

'Where is she?' he asked.

'In one of the other tents, with a squire-'

'Bring Lady Brienne here at once. Please. Now!' Jaime ordered firmly.

Perplexed, the soldier retreated hastily; the moment he'd left, Jaime hurried to the other side of the tent anxiously to survey his reflection. As he hurriedly attempted to smooth down his hair and ensure his armour was fitted correctly, a strange laugh escaped Jaime's mouth.

What's the matter with me?

A woman he highly respected, one of the few people in this world that he genuinely cared about – enough to even endanger his own life just to save hers – was about to walk through into this very tent to see him, after so very long apart…and he felt like a giddy adolescent, filled with anticipation and nerves.

He hadn't thought about Brienne in quite some time. Yes, he'd wondered how she was and where she could be, but ever since the aftermath of Myrcella's death he hadn't really thought about her…about the way she scowled or the way the front strands of her hair dangled untidily against her forehead when she didn't have time to brush it back or the way she awkwardly manoeuvred in her bulky armour or the way she had looked in her blue attire on the day of Joffrey's wedding or the way her features had softened whenever she'd tended to Jaime's wounds after Harrenhal…those secluded evenings in the woods and by the river on the Kingsroad…that day in his quarters in the Red Keep before an outraged Cersei had burst in –

Jaime swallowed uncomfortably as he began to pace the tent. The undercurrents in their complicated, fraught relationship made him almost uneasy to look back on now, but there was no point in him denying to himself that they were so very alike and both held a deep affection for one another…unless that had changed for Brienne, and she was simply here on business and had moved on from their time together.

Why did she want to talk to him about his sword, Jaime wondered?

She had named it Oathkeeper.

They'd both known that day that giving her a Valyrian steel sword was no small thing. It was extremely rare and valuable, and had been a gift to Jaime from his father…though Brienne didn't know that. Was there a problem with it? Did she no longer want it? He couldn't understand why if that were the case.

He spun around as he then heard movement from the entrance flap of the tent, and there she was. He had never expected to see Brienne ever again, particularly not marching into his military camp, and yet there was no mistaking her tall figure, her short blonde hair, the suit of armour he'd had made for her, her face that looked equally as stunned to see him as he was to see her. The air was suddenly filled with unspoken affection and unspeakable loss as the two old friends gazed at each other in disbelief, both overwhelmed by a rush of relief and nostalgia. Jaime felt his shoulders relax, as if all the tension, stress and anger leading up to this siege at Riverrun was dissolving, and all that mattered was how content he felt just to see Brienne after so long apart.

'Brienne of Tarth,' Jaime said, almost wistfully, and he smiled. 'It is you.'

A small, humble smile flickered momentarily on Brienne's lips. 'It is.'

He had removed his armour and wore a simple dark leather jerkin; it was smart and fitted him well. To Brienne's surprise, he had aged somewhat noticeably since they had last seen each other; the tired lines on his face seemed permanently etched into his skin, and there was a light stubble of salt-and-pepper hair covering his chin. But it was still the Jaime she knew and remembered. The sound of his voice sent her heart soaring, and to be stood so near him…in the privacy of this tent away from the soldiers and the siege and all of it…it made her feel like she was back in King's Landing with him, or better still on the road travelling back from Harrenhal. It was as if no time had passed at all.

'I hardly dared believe it when I was told you were here,' Jaime went on, and the tone of his voice unnerved him; it had been too long since he had last spoken without sounding sly or curt or incensed.

They tentatively stepped towards each other, and for one mad second Jaime almost felt like hugging her. Brienne began to hold her hand out as if to shake his; Jaime took hers before she was able to change her mind and withdraw, but instead bent down to kiss the top of it. The gesture shocked Brienne so much that she couldn't speak for many moments.

Jaime frowned in bemusement as he let go of her hand. 'Forgive me, I don't know why I did that,' he said awkwardly.

'It's quite all right,' Brienne said, flustered.

He backed away and walked around to the other side of the tent, unsure of what to do but certain he needed to keep this as formal as possible. Brienne remained by the entrance, leaving the long table – and a nervous tension in the air – between them. Neither of them could understand this strange feeling. They were both happy to see each other, but they didn't know how to recognise it…nor could they allow themselves to recognise or act on the other emotions raging through their minds in this moment. They had to hold their cards so close to their chest, even when they knew from their history that this was so much more than just two soldiers meeting…they just couldn't acknowledge it.

'I trust you're well, Ser Jaime?' Brienne asked, and to her embarrassment her voice wavered slightly.

Jaime hesitated, unsure of how to answer; he hadn't been 'well' for an extremely long time. 'I'm…I…I'm well at the moment,' he replied. 'I've – we've missed you at King's Landing.'

Brienne frowned, bemused. 'We?'

'Yes. The court,' Jaime clarified hastily. 'Your presence was…highly valued.'

'I'm…very touched,' Brienne said, though she looked sceptical.

'H-how has Podrick been?' Jaime asked.

'He's turned out to be a remarkable squire, I must admit,' Brienne replied gratefully. 'He's loyal. And a good friend. You were right to have faith in him.'

'I'm glad to hear it. And how are you, my lady?' Jaime asked, his voice almost tender. 'It seems so long since we last saw each other.'

'It does. I'm…very well, thank you,' Brienne said, and she was; she had been very content since going into Sansa's service. 'I'm here on behalf of Lady Sansa-'

'Sansa?' Jaime interrupted, pleasantly surprised. 'She's alive?'

It took Brienne a moment to realise that of course Jaime wouldn't have known that Sansa was still alive – she'd asked Pod to burn that letter she'd written to him, after all, and how could Jaime have heard it from anyone else?

'Yes.'

'I can't believe it. I never thought you'd find her – I just assumed Sansa was dead,' Jaime admitted.

Brienne frowned; if he'd assumed as much, then why had he sent her away from King's Landing in the first place? Had he just wanted to be rid of her?

'Why would you assume that?' she asked, disappointed and perplexed.

'In my experience, girls like her don't live very long,' Jaime said simply, though he felt awkward saying it.

Brienne resented such a statement, and her voice was cold and stern as she retorted, 'I don't think you know many girls like her.'

Jaime hesitated for a moment as he looked at her, still hardly daring to believe that she was really here, stood just there before him. 'Well, I'm proud of you,' he said unashamedly.

Brienne looked at him, touched, and then lowered her gaze and began to blink rapidly, unable to fully process that those words had really just come out of Jaime Lannister's mouth.

'I am. You fulfilled your oath to Catelyn Stark against all odds,' Jaime went on, his tone soft and full of pride.

He watched her fondly as she continued to blink nervously and blushed. He knew that Brienne was very rarely shy – only ever in moments of emotional honesty did she let her tough mask slip slightly. He had missed seeing that; the way her features softened, the slight hint of a half-smile forming on her lips. It was so rare for her to receive a compliment. Too rare.

'Of course, my sister wants Sansa dead,' Jaime said, the tone of his voice changing suddenly as if he'd been unnerved by the tenderness of the moment, and Brienne watched him sharply as he walked around to the other end of the table. 'The girl is still a suspect in Joffrey's murder, so there is that…complication.'

His eyes ran over Brienne as he spoke the last word, almost playfully, and he frowned at her, still astonished to see her stood there, gazing defiantly back at him. He didn't like the way she was looking at him; it was as if she was challenging him to declare her an enemy of himself and his sister, when they both knew he would never do that. But there was no denying that Brienne was on the opposite side of this war now, fighting for the wrong side, for the Starks whom Cersei so dearly hated. Technically, Jaime and Brienne were enemies now, and there was no getting around that fact. But Jaime knew that Brienne had known that, and yet she had still entered this camp to see him anyway. She had faith in him that he would treat her fairly and justly, a faith that no other person would have in him. She was too good for this world, and certainly too good for this place right now, here with him and hundreds of other cruel men in the midst of a siege that would inevitably turn into a horrific battle.

'What the hell are you doing here?' he asked her quietly, and Brienne wondered if it was concern she could hear in his voice.

'I've come for the Blackfish,' Brienne replied.

Jaime looked bewildered. 'You're welcome to have him,' he said dryly.

'Lady Sansa desires to take her ancestral seat back from the Boltons and assume her rightful position as Lady of Winterfell,' Brienne explained.

Jaime looked sceptical, and yet also uneasy; these were dangerous waters they were treading on. 'With what army does she plan on taking Winterfell?' he asked, his eyebrows raised.

'The Tully army.'

'They're a bit occupied at the moment. I was sent here to reclaim Riverrun currently defended by the Tully rebels, so you can see the conundrum,' Jaime said irritably.

He was amused yet also annoyed by their situation; here they were, trying desperately to avoid talking about anything personal, standing very stiffly and as far as they could from each other, speaking correctly and formally as if those secluded moments they had shared together in that steamy bathtub and those moonlit nights in the woods and those tender conversations of comfort in the capital had never happened.

'The Tullys are rebels because they're fighting for their home?' Brienne asked sceptically, frowning at him.

'Riverrun was granted to the Freys by royal decree-' Jaime pointed out hotly, but Brienne interrupted him in outrage.

'As a reward for betraying Robb Stark and slaughtering his family,' she said angrily, her voice much louder than before.

'Exactly,' Jaime snapped.

His expression was torn, his eyes angry, his jaw set. Brienne's face fell slightly as a silence fell between them and she wondered if perhaps her fears had come true; had he turned back into the golden-lion Jaime Lannister of his past? Could he really condone this 'royal decree'?

Jaime blinked slightly as he took in her saddened expression. He'd almost forgotten that he was part of the family that had granted that reward in the first place. It filled him with the deepest shame right now. It felt like they had almost fallen right back into the old routine of their days in the Riverlands…Jaime saying something sarcastic, Brienne saying something defensive, the resentful glares, the bickering…It was in that moment when Jaime realised just how much he had missed Brienne's presence.

He frowned. 'We shouldn't argue about politics,' he muttered irritably, turning away.

He wished they weren't confined by such formalities. He wished they could be familiar with each other, as they had once been, and yet a part of him hated that he cared so deeply for her. Brienne hated it too, but it was no use. Whatever his true political views on this war may be, she knew that she could count on Jaime to be decent when it really mattered, even if no one else did. Even after all this time apart, she still understood him better than he did himself, and they both knew that.

'You're a knight, Ser Jaime. I know there is honour in you,' Brienne said, her words warming Jaime's heart as he slowly walked along the side of the table, his head bent low. 'I've seen it myself-'

'I'm a Lannister,' Jaime cut over her in a turmoiled voice, and the name felt almost like a prison as much as it did a burden for him. 'Don't ask me to betray my own house.'

He looked up at her and met her beseeching gaze, and he was overwhelmed by relief that she was here, and yet also sadness that she was seeing him here like this, in this capacity, preparing to fight and kill everyone here in the name of his cruel, twisted sister. If anyone else disrespected him, lost faith in him, thought badly of him, distrusted or disliked him in any way, it didn't really matter. But with Brienne it was different. He wanted her to trust him – no, he needed her to. And he couldn't explain why, not even to himself. All he knew was that she made him want to be good. He'd forgotten just how much.

Brienne glanced over his shoulder at the stone figurine of a lion that stood on the ornate chest behind him. Yes, he was a Lannister. But he could be his own version of a Lannister. He could change what the name 'Lannister' meant.

'I do no such thing,' Brienne said firmly, taking a step towards the table. 'Take Riverrun without bloodshed. Ride south again with your mission complete and your army intact.'

'What do you propose?' Jaime asked, intrigued and also hopeful.

He suddenly wished this table wasn't between them. He wanted to be closer to her.

'Allow me to enter Riverrun under a flag of truce,' Brienne said urgently, and Jaime barely refrained from rolling his eyes. 'Let me try to persuade the Blackfish to give up the castle.'

Jaime didn't like this plan, particularly when it put Brienne in danger. He knew that she was more than capable of defending herself, but still, he didn't like it.

'Why would he abandon his ancestral home?' he pointed out.

'Because you'll allow him to lead the Tully forces safely north,' Brienne replied.

Jaime looked at her for a moment, incredulous, then sighed exasperatedly. That naïve woman he had first met was still in there, even after all she had endured. She still had so such faith.

'Have you ever met the Blackfish?' he asked.

Brienne hesitated. 'No.'

'He's even more stubborn than you are,' Jaime said in a disgruntled voice, though the stern look in in his eyes didn't quite conceal the fondness he felt as he spoke.

He watched as she lowered her gaze. It was hopeless. He served the Lannisters, and what Brienne was suggesting would be going against everything he had told Cersei he would do. But this was Brienne. And she was trying to do things the right way. It was time he went back to doing that himself.

'All right,' Jaime said, and Brienne looked up at him in surprise as he walked around the table towards her. 'Try to talk some sense into the old goat. He won't listen, but his men might. Not everybody wants to die for someone else's home.'

Brienne turned towards him, relieved. 'I need your word,' she said. 'If I persuade him to abandon the castle, you'll grant a safe passage north.'

Jaime nodded. 'You have my word,' he promised. 'You have until nightfall.'

Brienne nodded back, and Jaime felt his heart swell; she accepted his word without question. He didn't know anyone else who would do that. It made everything feel like it was worth it, even if he was going against everything Cersei stood for. By allowing the Blackfish and his men to evacuate the castle and travel north to help the remaining Starks retake Winterfell from Ramsay Bolton, he was helping the enemy. And yet he didn't feel bad for granting this favour to Brienne, because he knew she was on the right side. He was just trapped on the wrong one. It scared him how she had this strange ability to bring out the best in him.

A lump in her throat, Brienne looked down and began unbuckling the belt fastened around her armour.

For a moment Jaime began to panic, but then realised as he watched that she wasn't undressing; she was removing her sword from its scabbard. Oathkeeper. Jaime looked up at her with raised eyebrows exasperatedly.

No. You are not doing this.

Brienne removed the sword, its hilt as glistening and gleaming as it had been on the day he'd given it to her, and held it out to him. He didn't know why he was surprised. He would never expect anything less of her. Jaime looked at Brienne's softened expression and saw that she looked almost younger and more innocent somehow as she gazed at him, ready to part with the sword she cherished so dearly. Jaime slowly took a few steps towards her, his eyes running over Oathkeeper fondly, and he sighed, nodding heavily as they both thought longingly back to their last few days together in the capital.

'You gave it to me for a purpose,' Brienne said, and Jaime looked up at her. 'I've achieved that purpose.'

She didn't want to give Oathkeeper back, and it wasn't just because it had served her well and been the best sword she'd ever owned. If she parted ways with this sword, her connection with Jaime would be severed forever. But it was Jaime's by right; he had given it to her to help her in her mission to find Sansa, and now that was over. This was the end of their story now. She wished it wasn't, but she knew it was how things must be.

Jaime raised his eyebrows, a small smile on his face as he nodded in agreement and looked back at Oathkeeper in her hands, the sword that was the pure embodiment or their irrevocable bond to one another. Surely she must recognise just as much as he did that he cared for her? Or had she forgotten their shared exchanges and looks during their intimate moments together on the road heading back from Harrenhal or in the capital? He'd hoped on their last day together back in the King's Landing that Brienne would have understood from his gift just how much she meant to him, but perhaps she hadn't got the message.

'It's yours,' Jaime said softly, and it felt as if a veil between them had suddenly been lifted as he gazed into her eyes. 'It will always be yours.'

As he spoke the words, Jaime was hit with the realisation that he didn't just mean the sword. Brienne gazed back at him wordlessly for a moment, her lips parted, her beautiful blue eyes wide as she tried to take in his meaning. Her heart racing, she then tore her gaze away from his, unable to cope anymore, and fixed Oathkeeper back onto her belt while trying desperately to ignore the tingles running through her entire body.

Jaime watched her, wishing she could know the things he longed to say. He conveyed it in a simple glance, but it was as if she was determined to make herself blind to it. Perhaps in another life, if he were a better person and uncommitted to his sister, he could say these things that he was trying so hard not to feel. His heart was an open book, just as Brienne's was, and yet both of them were pretending they couldn't see it because it was the only way they could carry on, for this was the life they had been given and the paths they had chosen.

Brienne could still feel his eyes on her, but she stayed focussed on trying (but struggling) to put her sword back in place, desperate to suppress the burgeoning love she felt for this man. Her fingers were trembling. She didn't understand what she had just seen in that gaze of his. She was hideous and ugly, the complete opposite to Cersei.

How could he ever love me?

But then why would he say that Oathkeeper would always be hers with such tenderness and affection? Why would he gaze at her in such a way?

Jaime watched her, waiting for her to say something in response, but Brienne couldn't deal with it. She had nothing to give him in return, and she was scared that if she were to open her mouth, he would be subjected to a humiliating declaration of love. Giving up on putting her sword back onto her belt, Brienne bent her head down low and turned away to leave the tent in a hurry without even looking at him, her sword and belt clutched in her hand.

Jaime's face fell slightly as he watched her walk away towards the tent entrance, crushed.

You're leaving already?!

Vulnerable and forlorn, he instantly walked after her. Seeing her again had reinvigorated him; was she really just going to leave straight away like their time together had meant nothing?

Brienne had nearly stepped outside to re-join Pod when she thought better of it and spun back round to face Jaime by the entrance of the tent. 'One last thing, Ser Jaime,' she said nervously.

She blinked rapidly, surprised by how close he was stood in front of her; his face was merely inches from hers.

Jaime smirked. Really? After everything we've been through, you're still calling me 'Ser'?

'Yes, Lady Brienne?' he said playfully, a hint of a flirtatious smile on his face that didn't make this any easier for Brienne.

'Should I fail to persuade the Blackfish to surrender…and if you attack the castle…honour compels me to fight for Sansa's kin,' Brienne said anxiously.

'Of course it does,' Jaime said reassuringly, confused as to why she seemed so distressed by this thought.

'To fight you,' Brienne clarified, her voice wavering.

Jaime felt like he had been kicked in the stomach. He had forgotten just how Brienne had this inexplicable talent of being able to say or do something that would completely catch him off guard and his expression, usually always set in the solemn mask of Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, would falter. His jaw dropped just a fraction as he looked at her now with a quiet, stoic look of pure devastation on his face and struggled to come up with the words to say, his eyes suddenly big and beseeching as he restrained the urge to move closer to her. He felt overwrought with grief and fear at the mere notion of fighting her, and he knew it had nothing to do with her skill or her being an enemy of the Lannisters. Brienne was the only thing that was right in this broken world that he lived in, and for some inexplicable reason, as he continued to gaze at Brienne in anguish, he found his own words that he had spoken on his last day with his beloved Myrcella ringing through his ears…

'We don't choose whom we love. It just…well…it's beyond our control.'

A lump rose in Jaime's throat as he looked at Brienne's tearful face swimming before him. 'Let's hope it doesn't come to that,' he said.

They both continued to gaze at each other fearfully, horrified at the prospect. If only the nature of war and honour didn't command them to pit themselves against each other in a fight…but to go against that would be to go against who they fundamentally were as people. It was strange, how the idea of a fight against Brienne made him feel so distraught, when long ago it had excited him. Despite the fact that she had beat him that day of their sword fight on the bridge years ago, Jaime had thoroughly enjoyed himself…perhaps because he hadn't cared about Brienne back then. But he did care about her now, far more than he should, and he knew from the quivering of Brienne's chin now as she gazed desperately at him that she cared about him too.

I won't be able to do it, Brienne realised, her brow furrowed. If it comes to it, I won't be able to fight him. How could I? I love him.

They were both so close to saying what they felt in that moment as they gazed at each other…but there was a siege and a war on, and a mission to get on with. Her lower lip trembling, Brienne then turned abruptly away from Jaime and swept from the tent without another word, her hand clutched tightly around Oathkeeper's hilt. Jaime watched her go, the intensity of the moment and Brienne's gaze having momentarily paralyzed him, and his heart sank as he let her march away into the camp to find Pod, both of them filled with instant regret.

In their time apart, he had forgotten just what a wonderfully honourable person Brienne was. He had forgotten what a good influence she had on him. He had forgotten that she was one of the few people who saw something in him other than the Kingslayer. And now she was going to walk into the lair of the beast and undoubtedly engage in a battle where she could very well perish, without her knowing any of this. He couldn't let that be it. He just couldn't.

Before he knew what he was doing, Jaime then walked out of the tent, leaving behind his armour, weapons, maps and plans for the siege, and hurriedly followed Brienne's retreating figure out into the camp. He didn't know what he was going to say to her. But he had to say something, before she walked out of his life, potentially forever.

~ Present Day ~

'It's yours.'

Tyrion's words were ringing in her ears, and yet it was only Jaime's voice Brienne could hear.

She pushed away Widow's Wail. 'I don't want it.'

'Oh I'm sorry, have you turned into Jon Snow?' Tyrion said irritably, raising his eyes in exasperation to the ceiling of her new bedchambers.

Brienne frowned at him, confused. 'What?'

'Never mind,' Tyrion said, and he sighed wearily as he propped the sword down, the point of its blade touching the floor. 'Ser Brienne…my brother requested that you have this upon his death.'

'Years ago-'

'And he left it in your chambers for you the night he left Winterfell,' Tyrion insisted.

'He already gave me this sword, at the time of Joffrey's death,' Brienne said, indicating Oathkeeper, hung up by her new suit of golden armour.

'I know. And he never wanted these two swords to be parted for too long. They're part of one, after all. They belong together,' Tyrion said earnestly. 'That's what I think – no, what I know – he believed. True knights have two swords, after all.'

Brienne closed her eyes as she heard Jaime's sly voice.

'I never understood why some knights felt the need to carry two swords.'

A hint of a smile fell on her lips at the memory. She opened her eyes and looked back at Tyrion and the sword, glistening there in all its glory. She thought of the words Jaime had written in his will. She thought of the great sword Ice, the two halves of which both Jaime and Brienne had used to defend Ned Stark's castle together.

'Very well, leave it there,' Brienne murmured eventually, indicating the desk near to them.

Tyrion nodded slowly, relieved, and walked over to lay Widow's Wail on top of the desk. There was a certain hesitancy in the way he peered up at Brienne as he walked back over to her.

'My dear lady, are you all right?' he asked, aching with pity for her.

Brienne barely shrugged as she turned away from him, her eyes fixed on the balcony. 'As all right as I'll ever be, I suppose.'

'It'll pass. Eventually. Time heals most wounds, so I believe,' Tyrion murmured, and he sighed. 'So I very much hope anyway.'

At this, Brienne's lips parted and she slowly turned around to face him, her expression softened somewhat. 'Forgive me, Lord Tyrion. He was your brother. You must miss him terribly.'

'Just Tyrion, please,' Tyrion corrected her at once. 'And I do. He could be a rude, arrogant fool, but he…he was always kind to me. He was different from the rest of my family. He was never ashamed that he loved me.'

'I…I keep forgetting that he's gone,' Brienne murmured, her voice breaking slightly as she sank onto a chair at the table. 'The other day I walked to the gardens, and I thought of how we'd sometimes arrange to meet there in secret after Lady Catelyn's death, and…without thinking I just turned to go and find him in the Lord Commander's quarters…well, in my quarters now, I suppose. It was as if I was…back in the past. It had felt so vivid, like I could just walk up some steps and find him here and speak to him again. I hear things that would make him laugh…I come across things that he'd love to see…and I go to tell him and…and then I remember.'

'I've been experiencing something similar, I must confess. It's…terribly hard to bear,' Tyrion said, his voice wavering. 'But we must bear it. Together, if you like. I would very much like to be your friend, Ser Brienne.'

Brienne looked at him and nodded tentatively, stunned.

Tyrion looked somewhat relieved. 'You know, in another life, had things gone more our way and the wretched man hadn't been blinded by his poisonous honour for his family…I have no doubt you would have become my sister-in-law. I would have been extremely happy to have called you 'sister', Ser Brienne,' he said warmly. 'If that…brings you any comfort.'

Brienne managed a small, weak half-smile. 'I'm touched by your sentiment, but…I'm not sure that would ever have happened.'

Tyrion gazed at her; her doubt made him more dismayed than he could say. 'He loved you, you know,' he said softly.

'I know. It just wasn't enough,' Brienne murmured, downcast. 'He would never have stayed with me in the end, would he? It was foolish of me to think he meant to.'

'But he did mean to, my lady,' Tyrion said earnestly. 'He told me so himself.'

'Then he lied to you as well as me,' Brienne muttered, though she knew that was just the anger talking now.

'Do you really believe that?' Tyrion asked sadly. 'If he hadn't found out Cersei's life was in immediate danger then-'

'Her life was always going to be in danger,' Brienne interrupted.

'Exactly. And he knew that all those weeks he was with you. Bronn told him so, and yet he still stayed in Winterfell, at your side. Because he was happy. He was so happy with you, he told me so himself,' Tyrion insisted, 'and I've never seen him the way he was when he was with you at Winterfell. But it was too much for him to bear, at least when he knew Cersei and the baby were going to die-'

Tyrion broke off and froze. Brienne stared at him.

'Oh, I…forgive me, I didn't think,' Tyrion said, horrified, but there was nothing he could do now; it was too late and he couldn't take it back. 'I…I didn't know if you knew she was pregnant.'

Brienne said nothing.

He swallowed nervously. 'You know, if it's any consolation…if it hadn't been for the baby, I think he would have stayed in Winterfell.'

'Do you?' Brienne asked sharply. 'I think he would have chosen her either way.'

'He didn't choose her – he chose the baby, he chose his vow. In fact, he didn't really have a choice in the matter at all, at least not in his mind,' Tyrion said. 'He was honour-bound by oath to go back. And who was it who taught him to value honour?'

Brienne glared at him, offended. 'Are you trying to blame me for what he did?' she said, outraged. 'You're saying his death is my fault?'

'No, my lady, I would never do that, nor think it,' Tyrion said at once. 'I'm just trying to make you see that the man he'd become would never have left his sister and unborn child to the wolves – or should I say dragons – like that, especially not when he'd pledged to keep them from harm. That just wasn't the sort of man he was. You loved him, you knew him better than most, surely you understand that.'

'I do,' Brienne said slowly, calming down slightly. 'I just…I sometimes find it hard to understand what was going on his mind…what the point was in him staying in Winterfell all that time when he knew all this anyway…'

Tyrion nodded heavily. 'I…well I know it was his full intention to stay with you. But he always thought he was Cersei's twin in personality, you see. He thought he was as evil and twisted as she was,' he said sadly. 'I know my brother, I know how that tormented mind of his worked. You said that the day he left, Lady Sansa told him of Cersei's imminent execution, and…well I think that will have triggered the…the 'golden lion' within him. He loathed himself because of it, and he loved you for showing him something different. You were the one constant thing that brought…lightness into his life. A lightness he felt he didn't deserve.'

It wasn't until she felt the tear drop onto her hand that Brienne realised she was crying.

'He thought his own darkness was tainting your life,' Tyrion went on, knowing she needed to hear this. 'And he had to break your heart to stop you from following him to his doom.'

'You sound very sure of that,' Brienne murmured, wiping her cheeks.

'I am,' Tyrion said firmly. 'Because…being Hand of the King allows for some knowledge in these matters.'

Brienne's eyes widened in shock as she understood what he meant.

Tyrion smiled sadly at her. 'Bran saw everything. It was honour for his family and hatred of himself that drove Jaime away from Winterfell. It wasn't you. But you know that already, don't you?' he said, giving her a knowing look, and Brienne pressed her lips together as the tears fell, and she nodded. 'You were the reason he managed to stay as long as he did, before Cersei's control over him won when he found out her life was in danger. You must remember that, Ser Brienne. He would have hated for you to think he did not care for you. He was cruel in the end, yes, but to save you. Because he loved you with all his heart. You were the reason he came to Winterfell to risk his life fighting against an army of dead men. The man he was before he met you would never have done that. You made him decent. You made him happy. You gave him…a glimpse…of a wonderful life with you, away from the tragic existence he'd always known.'

'If only he'd accepted that other life,' Brienne said in a small voice.

'If only he had,' Tyrion murmured, and he paused as he watched her, sat there at the table with nothing but pain etched across her face. 'You should talk to him, you know.'

'I'm sorry?' Brienne said, confused.

'You pray, do you not? Even though he's not here anymore, you should still talk to him, as if he is. I do,' Tyrion said encouragingly. 'Trust me, it helps.'

Brienne scoffed. 'Are you trying to make a fool of me?'

'No. I'm trying to help make your grief a little easier,' he said gently. 'Well…a little less painful, anyway.'

'I…I don't know what I would say…' Brienne murmured doubtfully.

'Just say what you feel. Talk to him as if he were sat opposite you,' Tyrion said, and he sighed. 'Ser Brienne, he may be dead but he's not truly gone. Not really. He's still in here.'

He was pointing at her chest, where her broken heart still managed to keep beating. Brienne nodded slowly, her chin wobbling, her lips trembling, and suddenly she found herself grateful that at least she had one Lannister still in her life.

Once Tyrion had left, Brienne washed and got dressed into a new tunic and breeches – she'd need to wait for Pod to help her with her armour – and she felt a surge of hope as she thought over Tyrion's words. Perhaps he was right. Jaime would have stopped at nothing to try and guarantee Cersei's survival and safety, but whether Cersei had survived or not, if he had lived his choice would still have been Brienne. She knew that. His heart would always have stayed firmly with her.

It's yours. It will always be yours.

Brienne's eyes turned to Widow's Wail on the table, and Oathkeeper hung up beside her armour. Every time she touched or saw those swords, she felt a huge swell of grief. But they had been a part of Jaime, and a part of their story. And now they were both hers, to keep their story alive. So she knew that her battered heart would manage to soldier on, because that was what she did best, and besides, Tyrion was right – Jaime wasn't really gone. He would always be with her, just as he always had been, since the day they met. And nothing, not even a city-destroying dragon or the huge pile of rubble in the castle's basement or the ghost of Cersei Lannister, could ever take that away from her.