Based on events during Episode 6 of GoT Season 8

(Also includes flashback from Episode 4 of GoT Season 4)

The day of the first small council session with the new King dawned bright and early. Brienne was already armoured and fed by the time most people had awoken, and as it was a considerable few hours before she was due to meet with her new colleagues, she and Pod left the confines of the crumbling Red Keep and set out on a few patrols of the city.

It came as a great surprise for Brienne to see that the broken remains of the streets weren't as empty as they had been previously. The survivors from Daenerys' brutal, monstrous attack had all assembled to help clean up and rebuild, and others who had previously run away seemed to have returned to get involved in restarting the lives of everyone in King's Landing. There were children playing, a man over in the corner of one of the remaining archways playing songs on the lute, adolescents riding around on horses and laughing, and older adults helping sweep the ash away from the ground and move the rubble…just as Brienne and Jaime had done back in Winterfell.

While Pod beamed around in wonder at the hopeful crowds that had formed in the streets to celebrate the end of the war, Brienne came to a halt as she caught sight of a young couple arguing loudly beside a pile of bricks, furiously scowling at each other as they snapped endless insults. Brienne envied them. She missed her and Jaime's antagonistic bickering almost as much as she missed their tender love for one another. As she watched the angry couple continue to shout, Brienne found herself thinking back to her words a few months ago…

'We've never had a conversation last this long without you insulting me. Not once.'

Brienne couldn't help wondering why she had said that to Jaime. Had she forgotten Harrenhal and the journey with Steelshanks back to King's Landing, not to mention those secluded moments alone together in the capital? Had she forgotten Riverrun?

No, I mustn't think of that.

Blinking rapidly, Brienne turned her back on the fighting couple, though was in such a daze that Pod ended up having to pull her back just in time to stop her from walking into one of the horses riding past.

'Watch yourself, milady!' Pod said, frowning up at her in concern.

Brienne murmured an apology to Pod though he could tell she was still distracted as she watched the riders on their horses longingly. Pod sighed sympathetically as he remembered one day in Winterfell almost two months ago, when they had both been riding back to the castle from winter town to see Sansa, only to ride past Jaime on his way to take over the patrol. Brienne had turned back and rode over to Jaime so she could steal a kiss; he'd kissed her back eagerly, amused, before she'd then leaned away and turned wordlessly to ride on with Pod and continue with her duties, carefree and full of laughter and a soar in her heart. Pod could still vividly see that joyous smile on her blushing face as they'd ridden back to the castle. Domestic bliss had suited her. He hoped dearly that she would be able to experience such happiness again at some point in the future. He knew no one who deserved it more than Brienne.

Both Brienne and Pod then froze as the man with the lute began to play a new song.

'He lifted her high in the air

He sniffed and roared and smelled her there…'

Pod didn't know the song well, but he knew its significance. He knew what it meant to Brienne; she had told him herself. He looked up at her in dismay and his face fell at the fear and agony in Brienne's eyes as she stared at the man with the lute, her jaw set, her chin quivering.

'…From there to here, from here to there

All black and brown and covered with hair…'

Brienne exhaled shakily, overcome with emotion as the memories flooded to the very front of her mind, and she listened, as if paralysed, to the song that Locke and his men had constantly sung in the woods when they had captured Jaime and Brienne and tied them up together, the song Bolton's solders had serenaded her with just before Jaime had jumped into the bear pit and saved her life, the song that had played at Joffrey's wedding…on the day Brienne had realised her true feelings for Jaime.

'May I have the honour, my lady?'

'But there's no music.'

'We'll make our own.'

She could vividly remember the way he'd put his hand on her waist and held her close as they'd swayed on the spot in their bedchambers while he'd hummed 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair' with a grin…

'What? I've grown fond of the song.'

'Well you're terrible at singing it.'

Brienne's hands began to shake and she felt herself rapidly dissociating from the war-torn, demolished streets and the brave, hopeful people around her, her body seemingly out of her control as her breathing came out in wild gasps. A sickening rush of adrenaline spread throughout Brienne's body and she felt like she was drowning, that everything was closing in around her, her golden armour was too tight and suffocating her…

I don't understand…what is this? What's happening to me?

Heart racing. Blood pounding in her ears. Walls closing in.

Breathe. Breathe. Calm down, you're making a fool of yourself.

There were distant sounds of Pod's comforting voice attempting to penetrate her hearing, but he was so far away, the sound muffled… 'Milady, are you all right? Ser Brienne…Brienne, you should sit down, let me take you back inside…'

She had broken out in a cold sweat, her legs couldn't stop shaking, her heart was pounding uncontrollably, her throat closing up, her chest growing tighter and tighter, as if it were about to burst.

But then, at last, she managed to form words. 'I-I need to go…'

'Yes, milady,' Pod said, sounding relieved. 'Let me take you-'

'No, I need to be alone,' Brienne said firmly, feeling rather nauseous. 'I can't be here.'

She was already walking away, though she swayed slightly as she made her way across the ash and rubble back towards the Red Keep.

'Tell him to stop. Tell him to play something else, anything else,' Brienne said to Pod urgently, as the dizziness threatened to consume her.

'Y-yes, milady…'

Pod's voice was faint and unsure as Brienne hurried away from the streets and the lute player and back into the safety of the Red Keep, furious with herself. She had fought and killed an army of dead men, she had suffered great losses more times than she could count, she was a warrior and had endured every insult and torture and ill luck the gods had deemed to fit to challenge her with, and yet this was what made her feel close to fainting? An innocent man playing a well-known song on his lute? It was ridiculous.

Once inside, she climbed the steps up to her tower in a panic, praying that no one would see her in this state. Before she knew it, she had arrived at the steps leading up to her apartments, but Brienne paused as she looked down the corridor towards the room that she had long been avoiding. She took a deep breath and without thinking slowly turned and began to walk towards the open doorway. It was strange how the rooms in this tower remained the few that were untouched by Drogon's attack. Strange, but somehow fitting as well.

Brienne hesitated a moment before entering, wondering why she was putting herself through this.

I must stop running away.

Like she had said to Tyrion, these memories were all she had left – she had to face them. She had to cherish them. Swallowing, Brienne then stepped through the doorway, wondering what it had been like for Jaime the very first time he'd entered this room, young and dreaming of glory.

The Book of Brothers waited for her on the large table occupying the majority of the floor. A collection of shields and swords hung above a cabinet, but other than that the furniture in the room was scarce. The sight of the book on the table left Brienne so dazed that it took her a few moments to realise that she was not alone.

Aman stood by the ornate cabinet and he was dressed in armour with a raven sigil on, similar to Brienne's; Brienne wondered if Tyrion was wanting to put this knight forward as a candidate to join the Kingsguard.

'Oh. Forgive me, Ser Brienne,' the knight said at once. 'I was here at Lord Tyrion's request, to prepare the room…'

Brienne bowed her head politely. 'That's quite all right, thank you.'

'I'll leave you now. Would you like me to remove this?'

He was indicating a stone lion figurine standing on top of the cabinet. Brienne looked at it for a moment, and felt a lump rise to her throat as she recognised it from Jaime's tent at Riverrun.

'No, leave it there please,' Brienne replied.

The knight looked confused. 'But…it's a Lannister-'

'The Hand of the King is a Lannister, is he not?' Brienne pointed out with raised eyebrows, and the knight fell awkwardly silent. 'This belonged to Ser Jaime. I would like it kept in here.'

'As you wish, Ser Brienne.'

The knight nodded and then retreated from the room, leaving Brienne alone with nothing but the White Book staring up at her. She could remember distinctly how she'd felt on that day she'd first clapped eyes on that book, when Jaime had given her Oathkeeper. She'd wanted to capture that feeling and make it last forever. She'd felt valued and cared for and even happy, an emotion she hadn't been remotely familiar with at the time. But moments like those didn't last forever, no matter how hard she had tried. And yet they still lived on inside her heart, and she knew they always would. She would forever see him, and their time together, in her words and in everything she did.

'It's the duty of the Lord Commander to fill those pages.'

Brienne sat down heavily at the table and stared down at the book that held so much meaning for her. She thought of how Jaime would have pored through the pages, reading the entries of his heroic predecessors that had influenced him since he'd been a young boy, and how he had pined for his own entry to be completed. She remembered how bitter he had been about the conspicuously bare pages beneath his name, how he'd truly believed that there was no good deed to remember him by, nothing worth recording.

Opening the large, heavy book, Brienne slowly began to flicker through the pages, glancing in interest at the entries of the famous Lord Commanders of the past…Ser Duncan the Tall…Ser Arthur Dayne…Ser Barristan Selmy…

The sight of Jaime Lannister's name on the last page cut her short. His entry was brief and unfinished. Brienne felt her heart sink as she read the last few sentences:

At the sack of King's Landing, murdered his King, Aerys the Second, at the foot of the Iron Throne.

Thereafter known as the Kingslayer.

After the murder of King Joffrey I by Tyrion Lannister served under King Tommen I.

Brienne swallowed uncomfortably as she gazed down at the words, trying desperately not to let herself to succumb to tears.

She couldn't let him be forgotten from the world or fade away. She couldn't let him disappear. He may have felt that he deserved that, but he didn't, not at all. He had been too consumed by self-loathing to recognise that he had been good and honourable, but Brienne knew the truth…and despite him having left her alone in the cold and dark at Winterfell, the everlasting love she felt for him meant more to her than that.

Jaime's story had been left unfinished on these pages. But Brienne could tell his story. Brienne could tell the world what kind of man he had really been.

And so Brienne picked up the quill on the table, dipped it in ink and began to write.

'If I told you to leave the capital right now and find Sansa, if I told you to find that murderous little bitch and bring me her head, would you do it?'

Cersei's words from a few nights ago were ringing in Jaime's ears as he covered the new suit of armour with a sheet, ready for the big reveal. He felt rather nervous, though it was nothing to do with Cersei's taunts plaguing his mind.

'You made a sacred vow to the enemy…'

Cersei couldn't understand the change in him, and quite frankly, neither could Jaime. He had pushed one of the Stark children out of a window without hesitation or a second thought, and now he was simply refusing his sister's desire to hunt down another innocent Stark child. And it was all because of Brienne of Tarth.

There was then a tap at the door and Jaime looked up. Brienne herself stood there in the doorway, right on time, wearing a long blue skirt, boots and a brown tunic and belt, buttoned up right to the top of her neck to try and cover up her scars from the bear. Her expression and body language were even more awkward than usual.

'You asked to see me, Ser Jaime,' she said, stepping into the room tentatively with her hands behind her back.

'Lady Brienne,' Jaime greeted warmly. 'How are you?'

'I'm well. And you?'

'I…' He trailed off; there was no straightforward answer to that. 'I owe you an apology.'

'You may have to specify what for.'

Her lips had twitched slightly; had that been a joke? From Brienne?

A bemused smile flickered momentarily on Jaime's lips before disappearing just as quickly. 'For my sister,' he replied heavily. 'Her behaviour towards you the other day in my quarters was inexcusable.'

'On the contrary, my being there in the first place was inexcusable,' Brienne said, looking rather uncomfortable as she avoided his eye contact. 'It won't happen again, I assure you, I just forgot my place. Forgive me.'

But Jaime was frowning. 'There's…nothing to forgive. You were supporting me after Joffrey's death. You're the only one who's done that,' he said quietly.

Brienne met his gaze, and was saddened by the loneliness in his expression. She wondered if sometimes he felt just as alienated in this castle and this city as she did.

Jaime cleared his throat awkwardly as he looked away. 'I thought you might be interested to come here, to see…part of what being Lord Commander's all about,' he said, and he indicated a large book in the centre of the round table. 'That over there is the Book of Brothers.'

'I've heard of this…it's also called the White Book, I believe?' Brienne said as she walked over, intrigued.

'Correct.'

'May I…have a look?' she asked tentatively.

'Of course, please. Read as much as you like.'

Brienne opened the book and turned over the pages, fascinated by the records of everyone who had ever served in the three-hundred-year history of the Kingsguard. She raised her eyebrows in interest when she finally came across Jaime's name.

'Here's your entry.'

But Jaime's face had fallen. 'It's not that impressive, believe me,' he muttered, as he walked slowly around the table.

Brienne leant over the table and began to read aloud, '"Ser Jaime Lannister. Knighted and named to the Kingsguard in his 16th year. At the sack of King's Landing, murdered his king Aerys II. Pardoned by Robert Baratheon. Thereafter known as the Kingslayer."'

She slowly looked up, frowning at this pitiful entry. Was that all there was? A legacy as being 'the Kingslayer' and nothing more? Nothing about how in killing Aerys, he had saved everyone in the capital? It was shameful.

'It's the duty of the Lord Commander to fill those pages,' Jaime said in a low voice, and he turned slowly to a sword on the cabinet behind him. 'And there's still room left on mine.'

Brienne watched as he walked up to the sword his father had gifted him with and grasped his hand tightly around the hilt, hesitating for a moment before picking it up and holding it out to the sunlight streaming in through the window. He twirled it around in his good hand, admiring its beauty, and glanced up at Brienne. As he'd hoped, she was looking at the sword with interest; she could already tell that this wasn't just an ordinary sword. Walking over to her, Jaime awkwardly tried to balance the sword against his forearm, the steel clattering slightly against his golden hand, and he held the sword out for her. Brienne raised her eyebrows at him, surprised, but he gave her an encouraging nod; she reached out for the hilt. Jaime's fingers accidentally brushed against hers, and they both tried furiously to ignore the spark that had been lit at their touch as Brienne took the sword carefully from him and examined it, awestruck.

The sharp steel was immaculate and shone so bright that it almost blinded her. The ornate hilt was of a glimmering gold and decorated in sparkling red rubies. It was the most dazzling sword she had even seen, and Brienne could tell just with a glance that it would be hard to fail with such a weapon. How lucky it must be to be the Lord Commander and be able to wield such an impressive sword.

'Valyrian steel,' she said softly, impressed, and she looked up at Jaime, a small smile on her lips that Jaime wasn't accustomed to seeing.

'Mmm,' Jaime murmured.

Brienne tilted the sword in her hands slightly, testing its weight and balance. Watching her with it now, glistening in her hands, Jaime had never felt more sure of what he was about to do.

He looked up at her. 'It's yours.'

Brienne looked up at him in alarm. 'I can't accept-' she protested at once, but Jaime interrupted her gently.

'It was reforged from Ned Stark's sword. You'll use it to defend Ned Stark's daughter,' Jaime said firmly.

Brienne could do nothing but stare at him with wide eyes, her lips parted in shock. She could hardly believe it. Was this some sort of prank? A cruel joke he was playing on her? But then she saw the tender look in his eyes and felt the Valyrian steel sword in her hands, and knew that it couldn't be. She glanced back down at the sword, stunned.

A small smile flickered briefly on Jaime's lips as he looked at her dazed expression. 'You swore an oath to return the Stark girls to their mother. Lady Stark's dead. Arya's probably dead too, but there's still a chance to find Sansa and get her somewhere safe,' he said earnestly, and to his relief Brienne nodded.

Even after Sansa was suspected of killing his own son, Jaime wanted Brienne to uphold her – no, their – promise to Catelyn Stark…even if it meant going directly against Cersei.

Brienne still couldn't believe it.

Who is this man? And why does he make me feel this way?

She wondered when this feeling had started. She wondered how it could be possible that the Kingslayer had managed to touch her heart this way. But of course…he wasn't the Kingslayer anymore, at least not in her eyes. He was a lonely troubled man, a man who cared deep down, a man that somehow made her glow with warmth inside, a man who she needed just as much as he needed her. And yet he was sending her away.

Jaime looked over her shoulder and exhaled nervously. 'I've got something else for you,' he said, trying to keep a cool head as he walked past her towards the suit of armour, concealed by the long sheet.

Brienne turned to watch him, confused, as Jaime hesitated, as if afraid to remove the cover, as if he was bracing himself. He hadn't realised just how much it mattered to him that she liked the armour he had designed for her. Swallowing, he then removed the sheet. Brienne stepped forward, her mouth open, as she took in the sight of the new suit of armour before her.

The armour was a luscious dark silver steel, tinted with a hint of blue, and it looked less bulky than any other armour she'd seen; indeed, it almost had a woman's shape to it. It would fit her nicely. Perfectly, even. She walked over to it, speechless, and felt the armour; it was tough…and expensive.

'I hope I got your measurements right,' Jaime said in a low, gentle voice, making Brienne blink rapidly.

He watched her carefully as she surveyed the armour. She wasn't smiling, and her eyes weren't alight with joy, and yet Jaime knew her well enough to know that her speechlessness and the dazed look in her eyes meant that she was pleased. He hoped that she knew, from the armour and sword, just how much he appreciated her, how much he wanted to make amends, how much he knew her and what she wanted.

Brienne didn't know what to say. She couldn't even find the words to say thank you. The incredibly rare and valuable sword…the exquisite armour…all the accoutrements of knighthood…it overwhelmed her. She took a slight step back, her mouth still open, her heart fluttering as she found herself unable to meet Jaime's gaze; if she looked at him, she might crumble, either with gratitude for all he had done or with sadness that their time together was almost at an end. Inspired by the sight of the new armour, Brienne then eventually spoke up.

'I'll find her. For Lady Catelyn,' she said firmly.

A slight smile fell on Jaime's face as he looked at her, proud. He admired how determined she sounded. He had every faith in her that she would do all in her power to find Sansa, even if it was, as he suspected, a hopeless cause. Brienne glanced at him, though not quite directly at his eyes, and Jaime could see that she was unbelievably nervous, quite unlike her usual self. She swallowed, wondering whether she could find the courage to say the words.

'And for you,' Brienne said eventually, blinking rapidly.

Jaime gazed at her for a moment that seemed like a lifetime, holding back a myriad of emotions threatening to burst from within him as Brienne nervously kept her eyes on the armour. There had been a few rare moments during their time together where Jaime had barely been able to believe that Brienne existed, that he was lucky enough to have encountered her when he had, and this was one of those moments. Brienne understood better than anyone that finding Sansa, an innocent child caught up in this war, was Jaime's last chance at recovering some shred of honour. Brienne was doing this for him just as much as she was for her oath to Lady Catelyn, and it meant more to him than he could ever let her know. Though he wasn't sure if it was her words that struck him more or the way she had said them.

He could see how nervous she was. He could practically hear the way her heart thudded erratically against her chest, just like his. Could it be possible? Could someone like her really develop affectionate feelings for someone like him? Could she care for him?

No, it can't be. I'm just being silly.

But he couldn't ignore it. Brienne had never looked at him that way before, as if she were one of the nervous lovestruck girls who had once frequently approached him in the capital. Even during those brief tender moments on the road back from Harrenhal, when he and Brienne had been forced to be close on those evenings where the romantic setting of the woodland and the moonlight and the river had made them behave quite unlike themselves, Brienne hadn't looked at him – or rather, looked at anywhere but his eyes – quite like she was doing now.

Jaime looked down in surprise, unsure of what to say or do. He had let this strange relationship between them get too complicated, and now he was left with the pain of being forced to make her leave his life. He couldn't deny to himself how her departure would leave a hole in his heart – though he wasn't quite sure what form that hole took. He didn't know what he would do without her anymore.

He opened his lips to speak, though it felt like a struggle for him to get their conversation back in order. 'I almost forgot,' Jaime said quietly in a low, strained voice, and he swallowed. 'I have one more gift.'

Brienne blinked, relieved that the danger of her blushing seemed to have passed. 'You do?' she said, astonished.

'Hmm,' Jaime replied, smiling as he turned to face the bright blue sky outside the window. 'But err…it'll be a surprise for when you leave later.'

Brienne's chin quivered slightly, though Jaime pretended not to notice. 'As in…later today?' she asked.

Jaime sighed heavily as he walked over to look out of the window and survey the bustling city down below; Brienne followed and stood beside him. He wanted her to leave the city as soon as possible, and for good. It felt like the one person she had ever let in anywhere near her heart was dismissing her. Jaime glanced at her forlorn face, frowning. He could see how hurt she was, and he was frustrated; did she not comprehend what he was risking for her, or how much this was hurting him as well?

He slowly moved his hand as if to hold hers but then thought better of it and let it hang limply to the side instead; Brienne noticed and felt a lump rise to her throat.

'The sooner you leave, the better chance you have at finding Sansa,' Jaime murmured.

Brienne nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on the warm lively city before them. 'I see. You're right, of course.'

Jaime smiled; upon first meeting Brienne, he'd never would have thought she would speak those words to him. 'Take this.'

He reached into the pocket of his brown jacket and pulled out a big fat purse filled with coins. He placed it in Brienne's hands before she'd even had time to register what was happening, and she looked shocked as the weight of the purse filled her hand; she'd doubted she'd ever held this amount of money in her life.

'Ser Jaime-'

'Take it,' Jaime cut over her firmly. 'You'll need it. Find inns, with good food and good beds. You and I know better than most how dangerous the kingsroad can be. I won't have you go hungry or exhausted every night.'

Accepting defeat, Brienne took the purse. 'We…won't be able to keep in touch, will we?' she then asked in a small voice.

Jaime hesitated for a moment, then sighed. 'No, I'm afraid not. If it's any consolation, I don't…want you to leave,' he said, glancing awkwardly at her as he struggled to say the words. 'I've grown used to your presence here, and I don't mind admitting it. But it's not safe for you here, not anymore.'

They both knew what he meant by that. It was a subject Brienne had wanted to avoid, but she felt she couldn't any longer.

'Cersei believes Sansa helped Tyrion in murdering Joffrey, doesn't she?' Brienne said anxiously.

Jaime nodded heavily. 'She does.'

'What will she do if she finds out about this? She'll want Sansa captured and imprisoned-'

'She'll want much worse than that, believe me. And that's why I think it's worth the risk, whatever the consequences if Cersei finds out. And you're the only one I trust to see this through,' Jaime said, fixing her with that intense gaze of his, and Brienne swallowed nervously, dazed.

'Thank you, Ser Jaime,' she said softly. 'For everything.'

Jaime gazed back at her for a moment then looked away abruptly, flustered. 'Don't thank me yet,' he muttered. 'The armour might not fit you, I'm not sure if it's big enough.'

Brienne rolled her eyes; there he went again, always relying on the snide quips and insults to recover himself whenever a conversation of theirs strayed too far beyond the realms of ordinary friendship. It amused her how he didn't understand that she could see right through that act now.

Once they had made arrangements to meet later, Jaime left Brienne in the room to process what was happening and collect her belongings – and also to change into her new stunning suit of armour. The moment he'd left and shut the door behind him, Brienne found a chair in the corner and with a slight stumble slowly sank down, though she was so dazed and out of focus that she almost fell into it.

Oh, my.

She wondered if Jaime had any idea what all this meant to her. The sword, the armour, the mission…all of it. Probably not.

Meanwhile out in the corridor, Jaime had hesitated outside the door, wanting to go back and say the words that could never be unsaid or forgotten.

Take me with you.

But it was no use. He had no choice in the matter. His obligation was here, with his family, as it always was and always would be. He needed to support Tyrion through the upcoming weeks. He needed to try and control his sister and father, and stop them from destroying their family and kingdom.

And above all, no matter how much he wanted to go with Brienne, Cersei was the one who needed him the most. Their firstborn was dead, and she was almost broken by grief. Jaime felt bad that he wasn't. It was a terrible truth to admit, but the boy had never meant much to him. He'd felt little when he'd watched Joffrey perish. All he could remember of that terrible day was his urge to comfort Cersei, who had been howling and screaming at the guards to arrest their brother. He could also remember the way Brienne had rushed to them to help, the way she had raised her voice to try and calm the screaming, crying crowds, the way her hand had clutched Jaime's shoulder as if in sympathy.

'You need to get out of here,' he had said to Brienne, while Cersei had been too busy wailing and shrieking both in anguish and anger to notice her presence. 'Lay low for a while, stay in your room, it's not safe.'

'But Ser Jaime-'

'Now, Brienne-'

'But are you all right?' Brienne had asked urgently, her face turn in anguish.

He'd frozen then. He hadn't even thought about that. Jaime wasn't used to such a question being put to him.

'I have to be,' he'd replied in a strangled voice. 'For Cersei.'

Cersei. It was always about Cersei. The thought made him irritable now, when before it had once made him proud.

But what he was doing today was one thing he could do that wasn't about satisfying Cersei's greedy, power-hungry, revengeful needs. This was something he could do for Brienne. He wasn't a huge fan of the Starks – after all, how could he be when they were the enemy? – but getting Brienne away to safety, on a mission that would help fulfil her oath and save the life of an innocent girl who had endured enough here in this ghastly city, was the right thing for her. All he had to do now was say goodbye to Brienne and let her go. How hard could that be?

~ Present Day ~

Brienne paused as she looked over the words she'd written, her quill poised and ready.

Captured in the field at the Whispering Wood.

Set free by Lady Catelyn Stark in return for an oath to find and guard her two daughters.

Lost his hand protecting the honor of Ser Brienne of Tarth, whom he later armed and armoured in order to send her away to safety and to fulfil their oath to Lady Stark to find her daughters. Later made Brienne of Tarth the first woman Knight of the Seven Kingdoms.

Took Riverrun from the Tully Rebels, without loss of life.

Lured the Unsullied into attacking Casterly Rock, sacrificing his childhood home in service to a greater strategy.

Outwitted the Targaryen forces to seize Highgarden. Fought at the Battle of the Goldroad bravely, narrowly escaping death by dragonfire.

Pledged himself to the forces of men and rode North to join them at Winterfell, alone.

Brienne thought hard, struggling, as her chin quivered. She wanted so desperately to praise his actions, right up until the very end, but it was hard when those actions had broken her heart so deeply. Jaime's final choice had been a tragic one in which he had fallen victim to his darkest demons, and she didn't want herself or Westeros to remember him in that way. He had been a good man in the end, who had done many great deeds. She knew why he had gone back for Cersei, and she accepted it now, enough for her to express her love for him in the pages of this book. She may not have been able to save him from his self-destruction or Cersei or the dangers of King's Landing during Daenerys' slaughter, but she could at least save him from the judgement the world had for him. She could ensure that history would know the best parts of Jaime Lannister.

Swallowing, Brienne then bent down to write:

Faced the Army of the Dead, and defended the castle against impossible odds until the defeat of the Night King. Escaped imprisonment and rode south in an attempt to save the capital from destruction.

Devastated as she was to recount these events, Brienne found it strangely therapeutic to write them down. She didn't regret what she and Jaime had had together, not for one moment. The bitterness and anger had subsided, and as she fought back tears while she wrote, she found herself overcome with nostalgia and love for the memory of this broken, wholesome man whom she had known better than anyone else. With all his many complications and flaws and immoral deeds of his dark past, Jaime had been brave and caring, and had been driven by honour and love. And no one had come close to loving Jaime as much as Brienne had, and still did now.

Her face torn in anguish, Brienne then wrote the final sentence in Jaime's entry:

Died protecting his Queen.

A lump rose in Brienne's throat as she stared down at the final words, her lip trembling, and she bit her tongue to stop the tears. Her fingers shook slightly as she held onto the quill and raised her tear-filled eyes to the ceiling, taking a moment while the ink dried to think about the man she had once hated before falling irrevocably in love with him.

She thought of what would have happened in their relationship if they had stayed together, if he were still alive. She imagined what they could have become. Would they have gotten married? Would they have had children? Would they have lived here, in King's Landing, or perhaps Tarth, or somewhere else entirely? She would never know, but it was strangely nice to sometimes fantasize about it.

She wondered what Jaime would have thought of the words she had written in the White Book about him, if he would have been grateful or exasperated. Brienne knew that Jaime's greatest wish had been to be an honourable man. Jaime had granted her wish of a knighthood, so it seemed only fitting that she had given him the one thing he had secretly desired the most – to be remembered as a good man. The sad thing was, Jaime would never know that Brienne had finished his page and written all the good deeds he had done. Though perhaps he did, if life after death were possible. Brienne wasn't sure what she believed anymore, but she did hope that was the case. It would explain why she could still feel a part of him, even here in this very room beside her, glowing from within her heart.

Sighing, Brienne caressed her fingers over Jaime's pages, gazing down at them tenderly, before collecting herself and closing the White Book firmly. She would write her own entry later – for now, her duty was done, and she had somewhere important to be.

Right on cue, Pod appeared in the open doorway just as Brienne rose from her seat. He looked splendid in his golden armour, like a proper knight. He had grown so much from the adolescent boy Jaime had first presented her with. Pod slowly walked into the room, glancing from Brienne to the White Book.

'Are you all right, milady?' he asked softly.

'Actually I am,' Brienne replied.

She felt surprised to say it, but it was true. She felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, like she had been cleansed for having written Jaime's story down. Pod gave her an encouraging smile and reached out for her hand; she took it and squeezed it. The clunky armour got in the way slightly, but the gesture was felt deeply all the same. Smiling gratefully at him, Brienne then let go and took a deep breath.

'Is it time?' she asked.

'It is.'

Brienne smiled. 'Then let us fetch our King, Ser Podrick.'

The two friends then left the room, filled with anticipation for attending their very first small council meeting. Brienne looked back and cast one final glance at the White Book before shutting the door, satisfied with her work. She had ensured that the people of the realm would remember Jaime's accomplishments and that was something she knew that Jaime would have been grateful for, had he been here. Indeed, it gave her hope that perhaps, instead of being forever known as the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister would one day be remembered as the Oathkeeper she had always known him to be.