Chapter Thirty-seven

That night, Bran hosted a small dinner in his solar for the members of the small council and a few lingering guests, including Queen Sansa. It was an intimate affair, full of good food, good wine, and even better company. And yet, despite the revelry around her, Brienne found it difficult to enjoy herself.

Brienne was seated at the center of the table, across from Jaime, who had spent most of the evening sending her nervous looks. She didn't know what was troubling him, but every time he glanced in her direction, her muscles tensed and her stomach fluttered anxiously. It had been hours since they had last seen each other, and she was starting to wonder if something had happened between their encounter in the garden that afternoon and Jaime's arrival at dinner that evening.

To make matters worse, Sansa and Tyrion had spent the entire night making eyes at each other at the far end of the table, their soft words and quiet laughter like a knife to Brienne's heart. Sansa and Tyrion were happy, truly happy. They had made their peace with the past, and now, the future was theirs for the taking. But Brienne and Jaime had reached no such understanding. There was still a gulf of pain and fear and uncertainty between them, and Brienne didn't know if they would ever overcome it.

Once the final course had been cleared away, Brienne took the first opportunity she could to excuse herself from the festivities. With Bran's permission, she said her goodbyes and then quickly slipped from the room, not the least bit surprised when Jaime followed.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he fell into step beside her.

Brienne cast Jaime a sidelong glance. "I could ask you the same thing. You've been acting strangely all night."

"Have I?"

"You have. Mind telling me what's wrong?"

Jaime's feet faltered, and he suddenly stopped, forcing Brienne to stop with him. His eyes flitted away from hers for a moment. When he met her gaze again, he said, "Nothing's wrong. I just . . . I just think we need to talk."

"So do I."

"Then come with me back to my chamber. That was where you were headed anyway, wasn't it?"

Was it? Brienne wasn't quite sure where she'd been headed. She'd honestly thought that, perhaps, she should just go straight to the White Sword Tower and forget everything that had happened in the last three days. But now that Jaime was standing beside her, inviting her to join him in his bedchamber, she could scarcely resist.

Brienne didn't answer Jaime's question. All she said was, "Lead the way."

A day earlier, Jaime would have taken Brienne's arm and escorted her as a gentleman escorts a lady. But she was no longer dressed in her feminine finery, and it would have looked peculiar for the Master of War to take the Lord Commander's arm as he led her through the corridors. So instead, Jaime held out his hand and said, "After you, my lady," and together, he and Brienne headed toward the Tower of the Hand.

They walked in silence, both knowing that it would only be safe to talk once they were alone. When they reached Jaime's chamber, he opened the door for Brienne and allowed her to precede him inside. A moment later, he followed, closing and locking the door behind him.

Brienne turned to look at Jaime, the air stilling in her lungs. He was so beautiful, the Golden Lion of Casterly Rock. He could have had any woman he wanted, and yet, for some reason, he had decided on her. Sometimes, Brienne wasn't even sure why, though she knew that, with Jaime's difficult past, a relationship with an ordinary woman just wouldn't do. He needed someone who could understand him, someone who was his equal, and in that regard, Brienne knew she was his perfect match.

Jaime stepped away from the door, moving closer, though he made no attempt to pull Brienne into his arms, to kiss her, to touch her. He sighed softly, and she tensed, fearing the worst. His eyes searched hers for a moment, as if he was trying to gather up the courage to speak. The longer he waited, the more anxious Brienne became, until finally, she could bear the silence no longer.

"Whatever it is, just say it," she said, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "Just say it."

"I'm not really sure where to begin."

"At the beginning would be a start. What happened after I left you this afternoon?" Suddenly, an unexpected thought struck Brienne, and she went deathly still. "Did . . . did you go to a brothel with Bronn?" Although that afternoon, Brienne had been certain of Jaime's fidelity, the worry in his eyes made her fear he had something grave to confess, and she couldn't imagine what else it could be.

"No, no, of course not," Jaime reassured her. "I spent the afternoon with Tyrion."

"Oh." Brienne exhaled a small sigh, some of the tension easing from her limbs. "And what did Lord Tyrion have to say?"

"A great deal, actually. He told me that there is no longer a vow of lifelong service for the Kingsguard, a fact that you yourself failed to mention."

Brienne's whole body flushed cold. She hadn't intentionally kept that bit of information from Jaime. It had just happened. She hadn't been trying to hide anything from him, but she was sure that was exactly what he thought. "I'm sorry. That was an oversight on my part. When I told you that there was no longer a vow of celibacy, I assumed the rest was implied."

"Well, it wasn't. But I know the truth now, and that's all that matters."

Brienne took an unconscious step back, suddenly fearing that Jaime was about to ask her a question she wasn't prepared to answer. Her heart beat an uneven rhythm as she stared at him across the distance. "Yes, well, I'm sorry all the same. It wasn't my intention to deceive you."

"I know."

"What . . . what else did Tyrion tell you?" Brienne asked, feeling the need to quickly change the subject.

"That I should stop making decisions for you and let you make them for yourself. That's the mistake I made the night I left Winterfell, and I can't make that same mistake again."

Brienne's gut tightened at the mention of that dreadful night, and more than anything, she wanted to retreat. She wanted to slip from the room and return to her own chamber and never speak of it again.

Brienne shook her head. "What happened that night, I . . . I don't want to talk about it, ever."

"But we have to. Don't you see? If we don't talk about it, we'll never get past it. You'll never forgive me. And I need you to forgive me, Brienne. I need it more than I need anything else in this world, even more than your love."

Jaime's eyes softened, and Brienne didn't think she had ever seen him look more hurt or more sincere. As much as her love meant to him, her forgiveness meant more, and it was the one thing she had yet to give him. Brienne didn't know how to forgive Jaime for what he had done—not just for abandoning her, but for disappearing for six long months and letting her believe that he was dead. The pain and heartache he'd caused her still stung raw, and Brienne didn't know if she would ever truly be able to forgive him, no matter how much she wanted to.

"Is that why you were so nervous tonight?" Brienne asked. "Because you wanted to ask for my forgiveness?"

"No. I was nervous because I wanted to ask you to be my wife."

The breath hitched in Brienne's throat, and for a moment, she couldn't even breathe. She just stared at Jaime, tears suddenly prickling behind her eyes. She had thought she'd already made up her mind about marrying Jaime Lannister—about marrying any man—and yet, hearing those words on his lips had affected her profoundly. Hearing those words had made her want something she knew she was better off never having.

It took Brienne a moment to regain her composure before she could reply. "I . . . I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Not yet. But you do have to listen."

But Brienne didn't want to listen. She had already decided what she wanted, hadn't she? And she feared, if she let Jaime start talking, he might weaken her resolve and everything she had built for herself here in King's Landing would suddenly come crashing down around her. But Brienne was no coward, and although she couldn't give Jaime permission to continue, she couldn't deny it to him either.

Brienne stayed silent, and Jaime continued. "When I first returned to King's Landing, you promised to leave the Kingsguard for me if I ever managed to prove myself worthy of you. Do you remember?"

Brienne fought not to react, remaining still and stalwart despite Jaime's words. Of course she remembered, though she had tried to forget. She had tried to convince herself that she didn't owe Jaime anything because he had yet to truly prove himself worthy of her. But even though Brienne hadn't forgiven him all his sins, that didn't mean he hadn't proven himself worthy. His love had proven him worthy, and she was a coward to pretend otherwise.

"Yes," Brienne answered, her voice breaking. "I remember."

"I've thought about that day a lot, about that promise. And even though you made it in good faith, I could never ask you to stay true to that vow. I could never ask you to give up the Kingsguard for me just because I'd proven myself worthy of you—if I ever managed to prove myself worthy of you. I want you to be my wife, yes, but it must be of your own volition. The decision must be yours and yours alone. If you want me, I am yours, Brienne. If you want to be my wife, nothing would make me happier. And if you don't, all you need to do is say the word, and I shall never broach the subject again."

Brienne was stunned silent. Jaime had freed her from her vow, though it hardly seemed to matter. She was suddenly tempted to accept his proposal, despite her resolve to remain in King's Landing, despite all the pain and hurt and uncertainty still standing between them. Brienne knew there were things about the past that Jaime wanted to tell her, and she couldn't make a decision until he had confessed them.

Brienne inhaled a shaky breath, trying to shore up her resolve. Once Jaime started, there would be no stopping him. He would tell her everything, things she didn't want to know, things she'd never wanted to know. He'd talk about the past, about Cersei, about the night he'd left Winterfell, and Brienne wasn't at all certain she was ready to hear it. For the past three days, they'd been living in a fantasy world together, but now, it was time to finally face reality. Brienne had to know the truth, every last sordid detail, before she even allowed herself to consider the possibility of becoming Jaime Lannister's wife.

"I think . . . I think it's time you told me everything," she said.

"Are you sure? It's not an easy story to tell, and I've already caused you far too much pain—"

"Just tell me, Jaime. I wouldn't be asking if I didn't want to know."

Jaime nodded, moistening his lips as if his mouth had suddenly gone dry, and Brienne's heart thumped against her ribs. She feared what he might say next, and her legs suddenly felt weak. Without thinking, she turned to the small table in the corner of the room and invited him to join her there, fearing that her legs would not hold her much longer.

When they were both settled, Jaime exhaled a tremulous sigh, his whole body shaking with the effort. Brienne had never seen him so nervous before. Never. Not even when he'd jumped in that bear pit at Harrenhal to save her life, not even when he'd faced an army of White Walkers. He was scared to tell her all of it, not because he couldn't accept the past, but because he feared that she couldn't accept it and that she would never forgive him for all of the terrible things he had done.

"That night," Jaime began, his voice still hesitant, "the night I left Winterfell, I sat beside our bed for hours just watching you sleep, trying to summon up the courage to make a decision. I didn't want to go. Truly, I didn't. But at that point, Daenerys Targaryen had already lost two dragons and there was no guarantee that she would win the war. I didn't want to go back, but I knew that if Jon and Tyrion and Daenerys failed, I was the only one who could get close to Cersei."

The sound of that hated name on Jaime's lips made Brienne's pulse quicken, but she forced herself to remain calm. If Jaime was going to tell her the truth, the whole truth, then she needed to accept it without letting her emotions get in the way.

"But you loved her even then, didn't you?" Brienne asked, needing to know for certain.

"As a sister, yes, I did love her. But that doesn't mean I wasn't prepared to end her life. Even though my child was still growing inside her, I was prepared to make that sacrifice. I . . ."

Jaime faltered, his eyes falling away from Brienne's as he turned to gaze out the window. He seemed lost in a different place and time, and every nerve in Brienne's body tensed as she waited for him to continue.

"I had no intention of ever coming back," Jaime said. "Once I killed Cersei, I planned to die in the fighting, or at least, die alongside her if it came to it. How can a man knowingly sacrifice the life of his own child without being willing to pay the ultimate price? I would never have been able to live with myself, and I would have made sure that wasn't a problem."

Brienne stared at Jaime in quiet disbelief, wanting to comfort him but finding herself unable to move or speak. Knowing that he had intended to kill his own child to save the world from Cersei, and then die himself as punishment, weighed heavily on her soul.

"It wasn't an easy decision to make," Jaime went on. "It meant leaving you, breaking your heart, but I didn't have a choice. Cersei was a plague upon this earth. Had she survived, she would have destroyed everyone and everything I love, including you. She was a vindictive woman, and had she stayed on the throne, she would have made us all pay for our defiance. I couldn't let that happen. So, that night in the yard, I said whatever I had to say to make you let me go. Everything I said was true. Every horrible, wretched thing. But even with all that, the one thing I couldn't tell you was that I didn't love you."

Jaime's eyes finally found hers again, and suddenly, Brienne could no longer breathe.

"I couldn't say those words," he continued, "because while they would have been effective, they would have also been a lie, and I didn't want to end our relationship on a lie. It killed me to leave you there, crying and alone, but I did it to save you, to save everyone, to finally do something worthwhile with my life and play the noble hero."

"You weren't playing," Brienne said, unshed tears stinging her eyes. "You are a hero, Jaime. You always have been."

Jaime laughed, a bitter, angry sound that made Brienne's heart ache for him. "No, I'm not. I failed to kill Cersei. When the time came, when I was finally standing before her, I failed to do what needed to be done. Do you know what I did instead?" he asked, leaning on the table between them and moving in closer. "I took her in my arms and held her, told her that it was all going to be all right, told her that we were all that mattered. That's what I did. That's what I did in those final moments, and there was nothing heroic about it."

Brienne was trembling now, and she knew, if she turned away from Jaime at that moment, she might burst into tears. So instead, she stared him straight in the eye and forced herself to ask, "Did . . . did you tell her that you loved her?"

"No." The word was so weak, Brienne almost didn't hear it. "No, I didn't declare my love for her. I didn't kiss her. I didn't try to rekindle what had once been there before. I just held her. I held my sister in my arms as she died," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "I held her, and my child, and prepared to die with them."

Tears pooled in Jaime's eyes, and he turned away again so he could get his emotions under control. Brienne just sat there watching him, realizing, for the first time, just how much he had lost. Although Brienne hated Cersei, she was still Jaime's sister—his twin sister—and no matter what had passed between them while she had lived, he still felt her loss acutely. And the loss of their unborn child.

The room fell silent as both Brienne and Jaime struggled to deal with their emotions. When Jaime had finally composed himself, he turned to look at her again. This time when he spoke, his voice sounded stronger, his tone more resolute.

"I know I shouldn't have made the decision to leave without telling you, without confiding in you and asking for your wisdom and advice. I know it was wrong of me to make a decision like that on my own, especially after what we had become to each other, but I didn't know how to broach the subject without you demanding to follow me to King's Landing. I knew I was going there to die, but how could I possibly tell you that? In the end, I suppose I just thought it was easier to break your heart and leave you behind than to have you watch me die in King's Landing. And, as I've told you before, if Cersei had seen us together, she would have sensed the truth and she would have done everything in her power to destroy you. This was my fight, my battle. It was my fault that Cersei was the way she was. I supported her, encouraged her, when I should have defied her, and I wanted to do my penance—needed to do my penance—alone."

Jaime had tried to explain all of this to Brienne before, but this time was different. This time, she finally understood why he had left that fateful night and why he had gone alone. Jaime had felt responsible for all the evil Cersei had wrought in this world, and he'd gone to King's Landing to put an end to it once and for all. To put an end to his own life and the life of his unborn child.

"I'm sorry, Brienne," Jaime said softly. "I know this hurts. But you wanted to know the truth, and that is the truth. All of it. There's nothing I'm holding back. Nothing I'm hiding. I love you. I have loved you for so long that I can't even remember when it started. You're the only one I want. And when I went to King's Landing, I swear by all the gods in all the heavens, I went there to do penance, not because I was in love with my sister."

Jaime looked so terribly lost, and all Brienne wanted to do was make his pain go away.

"I believe you," she said, her voice trembling. "I believe you."

Jaime nodded, clearly finding it difficult to speak.

Brienne didn't want to prolong his agony a moment longer, so she said the only thing she could say. "I forgive you, Jaime. I forgive you for leaving Winterfell, for leaving me crying in the yard, for not telling me why you were going, for not letting it be our decision. I forgive you for all of it because I love you and because you've suffered long enough."

Brienne's vision clouded with tears, but she didn't try to hide them. Jaime needed to know how sincere her feelings were. She didn't want there to be any doubt or anger or resentment between them anymore. She just wanted them to be able to move forward, to have the kind of life she had never even dared dream of.

Although Jaime looked as if he was on the brink of tears himself, he didn't turn away. "Thank you, Brienne," he said, his words raw with emotion. "Thank you. I don't deserve your forgiveness—"

"Yes, you do. You always have. I'm just sorry that my anger and my pride kept me from seeing that for so long. I had a right to be hurt, yes. But I shouldn't have punished you when you needed comforting. I know that now."

"And do you forgive me for staying away for so long, for not returning to you as soon as I was able?"

Brienne wanted to forgive him for that as well, but she wasn't sure she could. She still didn't understand why he had let her go on believing that he was dead, why he had let her go on suffering. "Why . . . why didn't you come back, Jaime? Why didn't you come back to me?"

"Because I'd hurt you so badly, I thought it was best to just let you move on with your life. Again, that was the wrong decision. That was me making the choice for you, which I had no right to do. Maybe I did it because I was a coward," he said, his eyes darting away from hers for a single instant, as if he couldn't quite bear for her to see his shame. "I was afraid to see you again, to see the look of anger and disappointment and hatred in your eyes. I was afraid to make you cry again. I thought it was best if I just stayed away."

"And you know that was wrong now, don't you?"

"Of course I do. And if I could go back—"

Brienne held up a hand, stopping him. "Don't. It's all right." She lowered her hand to her lap. "We've all made mistakes we're not proud of. It isn't just you."

"And what mistakes have you made, Brienne? You never make mistakes. Never."

"I should have been more understanding when I had the chance, less stubborn, more forgiving. I should have been strong enough and courageous enough to hear you out from the beginning. I'm sorry, Jaime. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I let my pride get in the way of our happiness. I'm more sorry than you could ever know."

Jaime reached out beneath the table and took Brienne's hand, his touch warm and comforting. She loved him so much, and all she wanted was for things to finally be right between them. She was tired of running, tired of pretending that she could somehow live her life without him. She loved Jaime Lannister more than anything. More than her position, more than her freedom, more than her pride. He was everything to her, and she'd been a fool to think she could ever live without his love.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Jaime said. "Nothing at all. I hurt you deeply, and if there was any way I could take it back, I would."

Brienne shook her head. "No. What's done is done. Now, we can only move forward."

Jaime squeezed her hand. "And I want to move forward, Brienne. I want to move forward with you as my wife."

Brienne froze, the instinct to pull away from him nearly overpowering. She was terrified of what Jaime was proposing. It wasn't that she feared leaving King's Landing or even giving up her position in the Kingsguard. What truly terrified Brienne was the very real fear that she wasn't good enough. Jaime Lannister was the Lord of Casterly Rock. He was, perhaps, the most eligible bachelor in all of Westeros. He had an ancient title and a grand keep, and he needed a refined lady by his side to be his wife and bear his children. Brienne had never been refined or graceful or elegant, even when she'd been back at Evenfall Hall. She had always been more masculine than feminine, no matter how hard she had tried, and the idea of having to act like a lady for the rest of her life scared her more than fighting an army of White Walkers.

Jaime must have sensed her trepidation because he pulled away, relinquishing her hand and easing back in his chair. "I'm . . . I'm sorry. That was presumptuous of me."

"No, no, it's not that. It's not that at all."

Brienne couldn't sit still a moment longer. Without another word, she was on her feet, nervously pacing the floor. She wasn't used to playing the coward, and she knew it didn't suit her, but her fear had suddenly gotten the better of her.

Jaime slowly rose from his chair and moved toward Brienne, putting himself directly in her path and forcing her to stop. She met his gaze with thinly veiled apprehension, and she knew he could see her fear as clearly as if she'd given voice to it.

"What is it, Brienne? What have I done wrong?"

"Nothing. You haven't done anything wrong."

"Then why are you so anxious? If you don't want to be my wife, just say so."

"It isn't that simple."

"Isn't it?" There was pain in Jaime's eyes, but also understanding. He was expecting her to reject him, had been expecting it all along. He was just waiting for her to say the word.

"I want to marry you, Jaime Lannister," Brienne said in a mad rush, feeling as if a great weight had just been lifted off her soul. "But I can't. I don't know the first thing about being a wife, or a lady, and I'm afraid I'd make a terrible mess of it."

Jaime chuckled softly, drawing Brienne into his arms. He rested his forehead against hers, his breath fluttering across her lips. "Oh, Brienne. Do you think I care if you can stitch a sampler or play the high harp or host afternoon tea? Do you really think that's what I want in a wife?"

"No, but—"

"All I want is someone who loves me, someone who cares for me, someone who understands me. That's all. There is no one in this world I could ever love more than I love you, Brienne of Tarth. And if you will not be my wife, I shall simply never marry."

"And what of your duty to produce an heir?"

"I will let that be Tyrion's obligation. After all, I suspect he and Queen Sansa are already well on their way to producing an heir. For all I know, she is already with child."

Brienne's cheeks heated at the implication, though she wasn't at all surprised. Although on the outside, Sansa Stark appeared as chilly as a northern winter, the heart of a woman beat beneath her breast, and she had the same wants and desires as any other woman.

"I don't want to talk about Tyrion and Sansa," Brienne said, her lips so close to Jaime's now that his breath was her breath. "I just want you."

Jaime inched closer, his lips almost brushing hers. "Then give me an answer, Brienne. Give me an answer, and either way, I'll be yours forever."

Brienne parted her lips, wanting to kiss Jaime more than anything, but knowing that she owed him a reply. Before she could overthink her answer, before she could stop herself, she said the one thing she knew Jaime had been waiting to hear. "Yes."