Brienne never wanted to cry this much since Jaime left her. Everything he told her about his time under Aerys is coming true, even if with different people.
Jaime has, predictably, declared war on the Crown in response to the Mad King's actions, as well as Prince Rhaegar's. What Brienne did not foresee was the alliances he brought along to the fight: the riverlands, the stormlands, the North and the Vale—all without marrying any woman of these lands, which is a bit odd given he is trying to rescue his sister, not his betrothed.
(She knows Jaime doesn't see Cersei merely as his sister, but the rest of the realm doesn't, so why wasn't he forced to marry anyone to get all these lords to go to war with him and oppose Aerys alongside him? Was their distaste for the Mad King and his firstborn enough?)
As Rhaegar took two Kingsguard knights with him and Cersei, Aerys sent four of the remaining five to battle, leaving only Brienne behind. "I won't send a bloody woman to war," he claimed. "No, you'll stay and guard me like a mother guards their children."
Unlike last time, there was no need to call Elia Martell and her children to be kept hostages; they were already there. As such, whenever Aerys wasn't in the throne room, Brienne's duty was to guard them, as well as Viserys—rarely Rhaella, for the King usually kept her as his toy. She and Elia ended up burdened with the task of calming Viserys and Rhaenys and shielding them from the King's madness.
Aerys' obsession with wildfire only grew as the months went by, and Brienne began to fear missing the moment he ordered its caches spread around King's Landing. Jaime missed the order, she remembers. He only saw his excitement for wildfire growing after the Starks' deaths.
She learned the details of Tywin's sudden execution from Lord Varys, who provides intel for the Crown's forces. Mistaking her despair for confusion, he told her that the former Hand found it suspicious that Rhaegar whisked Cersei away instead of taking her as wife in the sight of gods and men. "His intentions to have his daughter married to the Crown Prince were no secret," he said dryly, and Brienne nodded in acknowledgement. "But he had a point. Targaryens practiced poligamy before. Why would the Prince choose to elope? So he tried to send a small garrison to look after them. Problem was, Aerys had explicit orders forbidding Lord Tywin from summoning armies. That was his last straw, and what led to the spectacle you saw."
She wonders why Aerys gave such an order. Jaime never told her anything about the Mad King's relationship with his father prior to his admission to the Kingsguard, only that they were once friends. Whatever happened, said friendship began to crumble before Jaime's appointment, given what she's seen. Her memory goes back to her first life, when she heard about how Daenerys burned Lord Varys for perceived treason. There must be a way to avoid all of this, she thinks as she tries to distract herself from another torturous shift watching the King burn his 'enemies'.
At first, he named Jon Connington his Hand. She saw the young lord in court a few times, and the way he looked at Prince Rhaegar reminded her of the way she (likely) looked at Jaime. After news of a loss near the Trident reached Aerys' ears, though, he dismissed Connington and named Rossart as his new Hand. This happened a month ago, and since then Brienne keeps an eye on the man like a hawk looming over its prey.
Her relaxation moments are, as Jaime predicted, when she's with Princess Elia. The woman is gentle but fierce, and has no qualms speaking her mind when they are alone with her children, especially after she decided Brienne was trustworthy to 'speak freely' nearby.
"He never really loved me," she says once. "We were an arranged marriage, orchestrated by his father to isolate him from the rest of Westeros. I never fell for him either, but…" She sighs. "I may be Dornish, but I'm a princess, in and out of Dorne. Is it too much to ask for respect? Could he not have her as a mistress? Did he really have to make a scandal out of his feelings for Lady Lannister, whatever they are?" She takes a sip of tea. "I do hope she is aware of what she got herself into. All women in court are infatuated with Rhaegar, but none of them know who he really is."
Her words and tone are venomous, and Brienne doubts she held such an opinion before he eloped with Cersei. Still, her last sentence reminds her of Jaime, although in a more positive light. Nobody, aside from Brienne and Tyrion, ever bothered to know who he was behind the mask of the Kingslayer. Women would trade all their possessions for one night with him, but only out of lust—never out of love. Perhaps he chose me because he sensed I held true feelings for him, she thinks, and wanted to know what it was like to lay with someone who didn't merely lust after him. Of course, it wasn't enough to make him stay, but he was happy while it lasted. Surely it means something, right?
In the eighth month of war, news arrive of Prince Rhaegar's death. "Killed by Jaime Lannister in the field," Lord Varys informs. "Ser Barristan and Ser Gerold were gravely injured and taken captive by the rebels."
Aerys screams and orders to bring all prisoners to be burned without a trial. Nobody questions his sudden orders, and only a miracle holds Brienne's breakfast in her stomach while in the throne room.
She does empty her stomach afterwards, and this is how Lord Varys finds her. "I did not want to mention it in front of the King," he says after she composes herself, "but your father died in the same battle, Ser."
No, this isn't true. "Do you know any details?"
"Only what my little birds tell me," he replies. "It seems that Ser Gerold tried to avenge his prince's death and tried to kill Lord Jaime, but your father intervened. A curious thing, as I've heard Lannister only went to Rhaegar because he was about to kill Lord Eddard Stark."
She nods, thanks him for the information and heads to her room in the White Sword Tower. There, without anyone to see her, she lets herself cry and think over what happened.
Her father is gone, killed in a war that wasn't his, which he probably joined hoping a rebel victory would be getting her back. A small part of her, resentful and grievous, regrets her actions at the tourney. She ended up sacrificing her father's life for Jaime, in more ways than her.
However, another part of her wonders if this was a price she had to pay for a better scenario. After delivering news of Rhaegar's death, Lord Varys added the rebels were in the crownlands, a three-day ride from King's Landing. This means the war might end sooner than it previously did, with fewer losses on both sides.
While it's unknown whether Lyanna Stark went away with Rhaegar willingly or not, she has no doubts he and Cersei eloped fully aware of what they were doing. That, combined with Cersei's demanding nature—something she doesn't know if Lady Lyanna had—may mean the young Lannister might survive what her counterpart didn't, whatever it was. Jaime may have a chance at happiness without cuckolding kings.
Not to mention this huge alliance: West, North, Vale, riverlands and stormlands. It's larger than the one formed in their first life, and seemingly stronger. This might mean a more lasting peace post-war, which means more people alive for when the Long Night comes.
Still, her father's death means Tarth is without a ruler. The rebels will certainly find a way to dismiss me, she thinks, and the thought makes her cry once more. She holds no love for the Kingsguard, but her dismissal will taint her reputation for the rest of her life: Brienne of Tarth, a failure at womanhood and knighthood. At least, in the other, she died a reputed knight, even with her body's failure to carry a child.
A child. Oh gods. Dismissal from the Kingsguard also means she will have to find a husband to sire her heirs. Even more tears fall; how can she let another man into her bed, one that will want her merely for her titles and will likely only fuck her in the dark? How, when she made love to Jaime for a whole month, night and daytime, with him looking into her eyes everytime they fell in bed together?
Her husband, whoever it will be, won't dance with her while naked—or even while clothed. Won't bother to find several ways to bring her climax. Won't whisper her name in her ear and he comes. Won't hold or talk to her afterwards, or wake her up with open-mouthed, wet kisses. Jaime's hurtful departure doesn't erase the memory of their month together, and she knows no other man will treat her like that. No other man will try so hard to pretend to care about her pleasure and comfort as he did, and certainly not for the rest of his days.
At least Jaime was honest; when he could no longer keep the farce up, he left in time to be reunited with his true love in death.
She takes her armor off, lays on her bed without bothering to change clothes or bathing and cries. She cries for her lost father, for her doomed future and for her eternally broken heart.
It seems that, like Jaime, she missed the orders to have the wildfire spread around the city's undergrounds. She realizes this when word comes of Jaime's disappearance amidst his own camp, and Aerys sees this as a sign he's coming for him and his crown. As if Jaime would ever want this forsaken chair, she thinks, remembering the one night he blamed the Iron Throne for all of his family's tragedies.
"The traitor little lion wants my city," he snarls, "but I won't give it to him. Let him be the King of Ashes. Let him see the city pay for his treason. Burn them in their homes, burn them in their beds. Burn them all!"
This is it, she realizes. This is why I came here, this is what I sacrificed everything, my father included, for. She's by the stairs and so is Rossart, so it's all too easy to shove her sword—it doesn't really feel like hers, not after so many years carrying Oathkeeper on her hip, but it'll do—through his back. "What are you doing?" Aerys shouts. "Now it will have to be you! You order the city to burn! Burn them all! Burn them all!"
She doesn't say a word, just climbs the steps in his direction. Agitated, he doesn't even seem to notice she's coming closer instead of leaving the room. Unbidden, a memory comes to mind.
One of the many times Ned Stark berated me for it, Jaime told her, I asked whether it would have been better to shove my sword on his belly instead. Of course, the man did not appreciate my sense of humor.
She raises her bloodied sword. Guess I'll find out now, she thinks, almost chuckling, as she pierces it through the Mad King's stomach,
His body falls forward, and she escapes it by going back downstairs. He doesn't die right away, and he keeps shouting to 'burn them all' for several moments, until there is no voice of breath to hear.
And… she feels nothing. At all. No grief, no despair, no relief, no delight… nothing.
Except when she hears a voice behind her—then she feels all the dread.
"Brienne!"
"So, it happened just the same."
He says that—a statement, not a question—after one good look at Rossart and another at Aerys.
"Yes," she replies quietly. "I missed the order, but—yes, he told Rossart to burn it all down."
"Burn them all."
"Exactly."
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It's odd to see him with both flesh hands. "I came here to do it," he says gently.
"You knew I wanted to do it," she retorts.
"I knew you planned to do it, not that you wanted to. Who ever wants to be a kingslayer?" He shakes his head. "I came to spare you the scorn."
"I've lived with scorn my whole life."
"Will all due respect, Brienne, you can't compare being scorned for your looks and your aspiration to being scorned for killing a king. You saw me, what it turned me into. I couldn't let you become me." He glances down at her sword. "I still can't."
Before she can ask what he means by that, he lunges at her with his own sword. Caught by surprise, she barely blocks his attack, but he doesn't stop. He attacks and attacks, she defends and defends. He's vicious, and she doesn't understand—
Until she's on the floor, flat on her ass, with his sword pointed at her. "I'll take this," he announces, bowing just enough to snatch her sword from her hand. "You take mine," he adds, throwing his own to the floor. "There is nothing special about these hilts anyway."
What are you doing, she wants to ask, but once again the throne room is invaded, this time by a small number of men she doesn't recognize.
"Lord Jaime," one of them calls. "I knew we'd find you here." He squints his eyes. "What happened?"
Jaime turns his whole body to them—he knows Brienne won't take advantage of his distraction to strike him. "Well, Ned Stark," he says, and she swallows a gasp at the name, "you just missed me ending the Mad King's reign once and for all."
Jaime, you fool, she wants to scream. You are admitting the same crime to the same man who branded you 'Kingslayer'. You're putting all my effort to waste.
But Ned Stark doesn't look at Jaime with scorn. In fact, she sees a small grin on his face. "Killed Rhaegar and Aerys. My lord, you couldn't even let a piece for the rest of us?"