Brienne sighed as she leaned back against a broken building. She'd been too late. She'd not even reached the bulk of the fighting by the time the bells had rung and the Second Sons had turned on Daenerys' army, on Jaime's troops. Since, she had been trying to fight her way out of the city.

The fighting had spread, the longer the battle went on. The Ironborn joining had increased the amount of people in the city; the Second Sons' betrayal had pinned some of Daenerys' army back to the walls. Brienne had had to join more fights than she had wanted to. She'd wanted to get in and out, swift as an urchin messenger.

It was enough that she had failed in her mission to warn Jon and Daenerys. She could not fail her baby and Jaime too.

Jaime could not lose both Brienne and Cersei today.

Brienne forced herself to fight on, to cut her way through the weary Golden Company sellswords, the angry city watch. She wanted to scream at them, to have them surrender and flee so that they could save themselves.

As she thought it, it seemed to happen. First one soldier put down his sword and then another and then everyone who fought for Cersei was surrendering. Brienne looked up. She'd been keeping her head down. The last thing she needed was for anyone to recognise her as Jaime Lannister's wife, not when Cersei was possibly still alive in the Red Keep, looking for a win.

Brienne knew that Cersei would love to kill her, even if Cersei herself was about to die.

Brienne swallowed and followed the rush of soldiers. She heard the calls to go to the Market Hall, for all injured people to go to the Market Hall. She bit her lip and wondered whether she would find Jaime there or if he was in the streets like her. He would be alive. He would not be dead. She would feel his death in her chest. She knew that she would.

The crowd outside the Market Hall was huge, full of soldiers holding other soldiers up. Some were holding citizens, children, women. Brienne swallowed her fear. She would know if Jaime were in there. Somebody would have said that Jaime Lannister was injured. If anybody had seen him, she would have heard it in the whispers.

Brienne glanced to the sky as she heard the tinkling of bells, for the second time that day.

XXX

They found Euron on Cersei's throne. Both of their swords were wet with the blood of Cersei loyalists but this was the last target that Arya and Gendry had entered the castle for. They had left Jaime beside his sister. Arya had patted his shoulder as she'd left. She'd actually managed to feel sorry for him as she had watched him stare at her broken body.

They'd left then, ensuring that Jaime had his sword in hand, just in case anyone were to come and discover their dead queen, but they thought it unlikely. In a castle where the queen was protected by a monster, no other would think to - or want to - protect her.

Heading to the throne room, they had dispatched a few more soldiers, especially those that they found with white cloaks, and then found Euron, waiting for them with a smirk on his face.

"I'm ready to die," he chuckled, holding out his hands. Arya narrowed her eyes. Euron had a dagger at his waist.

"You surrender?" Gendry demanded, thrusting his sword at Euron in a pressing gesture.

"I surrender," Euron said, nodding his head thoughtfully. "I've fucked a queen and seen my niece's soldiers slaughtered by the Second Sons. Of course, I would have liked to have seen her die but it will only be a matter of time now that the Iron Islands are in a woman's hands. They will fall and I will not be here to see it."

Arya stepped forward. Euron met her eyes. "Little wolf," he cooed. "Your father would arrest me, of course, but you won't. You hardly knew your father." That was a lie and Arya knew it. And perhaps her father arresting him was a lie too. Arya had been a girl and not invited to her father's judgements, as Bran had been.

Inching further forward, Arya looked up as the bells began to ring. They had already rung once, when the Second Sons - who should never have been allowed in the city - had betrayed them, and now they were ringing again. Arya and Gendry had not made any plans for the bells, so the plans belonged to Cersei, and her cronies.

Euron's smirk widened. "Do you have loved ones down there?" he asked with a hissing voice. "I'd start praying. They're about to explode." Euron reached instinctively for his dagger but he was too slow, as Arya slit his throat with Needle, and Euron Greyjoy died, sitting on the Iron Throne.

XXX

Sansa groaned as she slid down off her horse. Her whole body was aching. Tyrion was worse. "You should go and rest, my love," she told him quietly. "Find Jaime's tent, or Daenerys'. I will go and inform them of the plans." It was testament to how much pain Tyrion was in that he agreed and limped away from her. Sansa watched him go with a pang in her heart.

She found some of Daenerys' men, on guard, and asked for the news. "Victory, my lady," one said. "The queen is within the city. She landed with the dragon."

"And the market hall? Has there been any- event?"

Another soldier shook his head. "No, my lady, not since the Second Sons betrayed us." Sansa furrowed her brow but there wasn't time to understand what any of that meant.

"I have to find a commander," she said urgently. "Has anyone left the city yet?" All three soldiers shook their head. Sansa nodded slowly. "Okay. I have to go inside. You will come with me?"

And, just then, the bells began to ring. Sansa turned slowly towards the city walls. She saw Tyrion leave a tent that she hadn't known he'd entered - and, then, and then, with a brain-rattling boom and a blinding sudden flash of green, the market hall exploded.

Soldiers, citizens and even dragons screamed.

They were too late.

XXX

Jaime bent at his sister's side. He was uncomfortable, had been uncomfortable since he'd sunk to his knees beside her, after she'd taken that last, startling, shuddering breath and died, right in front of him. Arya and Gendry had left. He thought that one of them might have touched his shoulder, briefly, but he wasn't sure which.

His sister was dead. She had been dead to him, the Cersei he knew had been dead to him, for years. But seeing her body was a different matter. She still looked so perfect. The splatter of blood on her face seemed unearthly, like it could be rouge or sauce. He closed his eyes briefly. He had loved her for so much of his life.

Allowing himself to fall backwards so that he sat more comfortably, his knees tucked under his chin, he sighed. "Cersei," he murmured. "Sweet sister, what did you do?"

He had done it, of course. He had been the one to kill her but he could still blame her. She had wanted too much, had been too ambitious and too deadly in her power. And, most of all, she had never been as clever as their father. She had never been clever enough to spin webs like he did, to rule like he did, but she'd not known it. And that was what had killed her in the end. Her baseless arrogance.

Jaime exhaled slowly. It seemed terrible to think badly of her, but, for the rest of his life, he would hear badly of her. She would be a villain to history, forever now, possibly alongside their father, certainly alongside their son.

Oh, Brienne would not speak badly of her but the rest of the world would. Every time Jaime spoke to anybody, they would see Cersei in the back of their minds, all the evil things she did, had him do. He felt sick momentarily and then threw that feeling away.

He wasn't alone anymore. He had Brienne and he would feel safe with her forever. Jaime smiled, leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his sister's forehead.

Then he jumped up and went to find his wife. It was time they went home. Bells started to ring outside the keep.

XXX

The soldiers, and Tyrion, accompanied Sansa into the city, over an hour after the first blast. There had been smaller blasts, over and over, as the wildfire spread but, after no blasts for a while, Sansa had demanded that they ride into the city and find their family and friends, none of whom had yet to exit, despite the huge amount of soldiers who had.

Other uninjured soldiers rode in behind them, to save as many as they could from the flames. While they did so, Sansa's eyes scanned every street and alley for Arya, for Jon, for Daenerys, for Brienne, for Jaime. She could see Tyrion's panic beginning to grow. They heard the cries of Cersei's death and, while Sansa privately celebrated, she saw Tyrion's grief hit him like a wave.

The next few months would be difficult for them, especially if they found Jaime among the dead.

The words on the fleeing soldiers' tongues were the market hall, the market hall, the market hall, so they made their way there, as much as Tyrion was warning them that it was unsafe, as that was where the main blast had hit.

Bran had sent them here for a reason. If he could see the future, he could see that they weren't going to make it here in time. What did that mean, then? What else was there for Sansa and Tyrion to do? Was it to discover Jaime's body? Or- the thought of either of her siblings being dead made bile climb up Sansa's throat.

The Market Hall was partly in flames but entirely destroyed. All four walls had collapsed. There were people screeching, on fire, or with missing limbs all around. Sansa dispatched the soldiers to find them and escort them outside of the city, but she already knew that most of them would die. There were simply not enough maesters.

As Sansa got down from her horse, she heard somebody shout, "No!" and Sansa looked up. An older woman was looking at her, standing in the ruins of the Market Hall, on the side that was not still aflame. Sansa stepped closer. The woman put out her hand but Sansa's heart was burning.

She carried on walking forward, and forward, until she got close and saw two men lifting a large portion of the wall off two bodies.

She was screaming before she had consciously identified them as Jon and Daenerys.

XXX

"Have you seen Lady Brienne?" Jaime pleaded with another commander as he passed through another part of the camp, on the way to the part that Jaime had left her. He knew his wife. There was no way that she would have stayed in her tent when she could have been talking about the victory with the soldiers.

And, yet, he had found no sign of her so far. Fighting through the city, while it was aflame, had nearly sent Jaime into panic. He'd found himself at one point, crouching in an alleyway, not entirely certain of how he had got there, replaying over and over that awful night where he had become kingslayer. It had taken the memory of that bath with Brienne to pull him out of it, taken the fact that she was out there, waiting and worrying for him.

He approached the camp, the tent where he had left Brienne earlier, with trepidation. There were soldiers here but he saw no sign of Brienne. Even before he entered the tent, he knew that he would not find her there.

What he did find was a note, written in large letters to make it easier for him. She was good that way.

My love, she wrote. I have to deliver a message. There is no one else I trust to do this.

There were lots of crossings out before she had written, You have made me so happy.

And that was it. Jaime's heart sank into his chest. His fist closed around the note. He felt tears well in his eyes. Brienne was inside the burning city. He stepped out of the tent. The city was still smoking.

Shaking his head, he found himself a horse and headed inside. Once, he had scoured this city for allomancers. Now, he would do it for his wife.

XXX

The steps of the Red Keep were deceptively uncomfortable. They were also very warm, because of the fire that was spreading within the centre of the city. It was wildfire and would die out naturally, after causing its destruction, but there was no way to fight it. Water did not work. There was nothing they could do now.

Arya leaned her head on Gendry's shoulder. He placed his hand on her hip and she smiled, shuffling closer to him. She would hate for anybody to see her right now but everybody had left the Red Keep. In fact, most people had left the city, at the sight of the flames. Arya and Gendry would leave too, soon, once they had some energy.

"So, what now?" Arya asked, looking up into Gendry's eyes.

Gendry shook his head. "I never imagined an end."

"It's not the end. It's the beginning."

"That's a bit soft, that, Arya," Gendry commented and Arya scowled at him. Gendry tightened his grip on her waist. "What do you want to do now?"

Arya shrugged. "I don't know. Apparently Bran is at Winterfell. I'd like to see him."

Gendry bobbed his head. "Then we'll head to Winterfell."

"We?" Arya questioned.

Gendry chuckled. "You really think I'd leave you again? It's you and me now, Arya." He cleared his throat. "In fact, I wondered if you might want to make that permanent." Arya blinked. Gendry clucked his tongue. "I mean, marry me, if you want."

He sounded like he was trying to be overly casual and Arya loved him for it. She rolled her eyes. "Alright. Let's do it." She felt Gendry grin as he leaned his head against hers.

"Perfect. At Winterfell, then?"

Arya shrugged. "Or before."

"Very eager," Gendry said appreciatively. Arya elbowed him in the side. They both looked up at the sound of a throat clearing. The soldier looked grave. "What is it?" Gendry demanded.

"You ought to come with me, my lady, my lord."

XXX

Jaime was like a storm as he searched the city. He moved quickly and ravaged every street, every alleyway, for Brienne. She couldn't be dead. She couldn't possibly be dead. He couldn't possibly lose her, not now, not when they were free to do as they pleased. He wanted to take her back to Tarth, wanted to go to Casterly Rock and see his babe born. He blinked back tears. He couldn't tell her father, couldn't tell Podrick that she was dead.

"I think she went to the market hall," a soldier said as Jaime demanded whether he knew anything about Brienne. Jaime froze and the soldier left, apologetically. The market hall. It was where the first blast had been, where the fire was still blazing.

Even so, he headed there. If she was dead - and she wasn't: Jaime would have felt it - he had to know. He had to know for certain and then he would - he would go to Winterfell, to Tyrion, and -

Jaime found the market hall. He found Tyrion there, in front of him, holding his wife, who was bent double and sobbing. Tyrion met his eyes and then glanced to his side, where two broken bodies lay. Jaime covered his mouth. Was it possible that Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen were dead? He shook his head. It couldn't be. Jaime wondered whether Arya knew yet, whether she had seen these bodies.

Jaime turned on the spot. He couldn't watch, or hear, Sansa sob any longer. It was too painful. There would be much sobbing over the next few days, he knew. Because of Cersei. Because, even after everything she had done, she had found a way to ruin people's lives, just one more time. She had robbed the realm of a good king and queen.

"Jaime," a quiet, rasping voice broke into his thoughts. Jaime's heart knew who it was before his head. His eyes found her, a cut on her cheek but safe, a slash on her leg but alive. His heart raced.

"Brienne," he let out a sob and then she was in his arms, so in his arms. He felt complete again. He felt like he was himself again. Everything made sense again. He sobbed into her neck. "You were gone. I thought you were-"

"I know, my love," she murmured, stroking his hair. "I know."

"I killed her - I killed her-"

"It's okay," she promised him. "It's okay."

Jaime wasn't sure how long they stayed there for, in each other's arms, but it was at least until they heard the gasp and sob of a newcomer and then the small cry as Arya Stark fell to her knees before her brother. Sansa broke away from her husband to wrap her arms around her sister and they cried together.

Jaime pulled away from Brienne and crouched down to accept his brother's embrace. He pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Cersei is dead," Tyrion said. Jaime nodded, once, twice jerkily.

"My hand," he told him. Tyrion met his eyes and Jaime let out another sob. Tyrion was soon crying too and Jaime felt as though maybe they could put House Lannister back together. They had made the right decisions, after all, had changed their priorities for the good of others. Maybe these tears would heal, in the end.