For the next five nights, he travels around the tunnels, looking for Brienne, to no avail. He even tries to find her in daytime twice, but, no matter where he looks, she isn't there.
She must have found her way out of the castle, he concludes at the end of the fifth night. I told her there are ships to Tarth; perhaps she went to the docks. A part of him finds it unlikely, given her reluctance, but the other explanation—that she left and is back to putting herself in danger out on the streets—is too painful to imagine.
Against all odds, he finds himself missing her and their training sessions. His nights now are rather dull without her, and, now that he has nothing to plan for them, his mind has nowhere to wander to when he gets bored while on duty.
After four days of boredom, he decides to take his free night—that should be reserved for Brienne—to sneak into Cersei's room. He must use this new absence to his advantage, after all.
(If the prospect of fucking his sister doesn't make him as hard as it used to, he doesn't pay it mind.)
However, when he reaches her chambers' door, he is surprised to find there are no guards standing outside. Okay, Ser Barristan set the Kingsguard's schedule back to normal, but there is still supposed to be one of them guarding the Queen; that had been King Robert's prerogative since their wedding.
Then he hears a moan. No, he thinks as he presses an ear to the door, but of course it is. There is no doubt as he hears Cersei commanding someone to go faster, then Kettleback's voice moaning her name.
Dizzy, he steps back and marches to the yard. It's empty, as expected for the time. He sits on one of the benches and rests his head between his hands. Breathe in, breathe out.
Is this a one-time thing? For some reason, he doubts it. The most likely scenario is that his sister brought men to her bed all this time he was away from it. Of course, he has to wait out a few more days, see if this theory is confirmed, but, regardless of the result, the truth is out: Cersei hasn't been faithful to him like he is to her.
Not that Jaime is the only man his twin has ever fucked. She has her husband to attend to, he was painfully aware of that. But that was a necessity; she was always quick to assure him he was the one her heart belonged to, and Robert was just for show.
That her fucks with the King were meaningless, he is sure of. Question is, did her fucks with him mean anything? He fell in bed with her, all these years, because he loved her, but did she love him in return? He knows stories of men who cheated on their wives despite claiming to love them—hells, Robert fathered bastards while fighting a war for his 'beloved' bride Lyanna Stark. But if Jaime and Cersei are two halves of one same soul, should they not behave the same when in love? If Jaime can keep his breeches on when around other women, surely Cersei can avoid letting other men in her bed while he's away. If his sister cannot remain faithful in adversity...
Nothing is colder or more dead than his heart. He had loved an angel and now despises a woman. Cersei cannot be his other half if she behaves like this, tossing his love away as soon as he's unavailable when she wants him. He has never strayed, not once! Not when so many women threw themselves at him, not when a few more daring sneaked inside his bedroom for him to find them already undressed in bed, not when he spent so much time in close proximity to Brienne—
Woah. Why is he putting Brienne on the list? She never flirted with him, never showed any interest in him—on the contrary, she wanted him dead, which is (usually) the opposite of desire. So no, she never offered herself as an option; why did his mind present her as such?
Because you wish she did, a small voice inside his mind whispers. Because you are attracted to her. No, you fancy her.
Impossible, he replies mentally. How could I love someone who wants to kill me and killed my own father? Not to mention her age; she's so young…
Who ever mentioned 'love'?, the other voice says, almost laughing.
He raises his gaze to the sky. Has he fallen for Brienne Tarth? Has he also been unfaithful to Cersei, but in heart instead of body?
The memory of Brienne's eyes comes unbidden to him. Even with so little time and light to look at them, he could see there were slightly different shades of blue: lighter in the edges, darker in the middle, spots of medium shades in between. They are wide and expressive; he bets he'd never miss an emotion of hers if she kept her mask off.
The rest of her features are odd, but they mash together in a way that makes her unique, and in a good manner of speaking. The only objectively ugly parts are her scars, but he doesn't find them disgusting. They tell stories about her and make her look brave and strong. He wishes she hadn't gotten them, yes, but only to spare her the pain she endured for it.
He feels himself getting hard while thinking of Brienne, and there is no denial now: his heart switched loyalties. Of course, he had to realize it after she left.
I'll look for her one last time, he decides, standing up to go to the tunnels. Here and around the city. Even if it's just to send her home, I'll look upon her one last time and let her know she's loved.
His voice echoes around the tunnels. "Brienne," he calls, avoiding screaming in case someone else is nearby. "Brienne, please," he goes. "If you're still here, please come out. If you don't want to see me anymore, I won't bother you, but… Let me say goodbye, at least."
He says that four times before a figure comes out of one of the tunnels. He quickly recognizes it as Brienne, and doesn't hide his smile, nor does he ignore the way his heart jumps at the sight of her. There is nothing to hide now, not from himself.
"You're not with your sword," she remarks quietly.
"I'm not here to train, or spar, or fight," he replies, walking until there are only a few inches separating them. He gathers her head on his hands, fingers caressing her mask as if it was her face. "I meant what I said last time," he goes on when she remains silent. "Give your father a chance, Brienne. You don't deserve to spend the rest of your days fending off dirt and scraps, wondering if every day will be your last. You deserve better than living in the shadows, killing others because you don't see any other way out—there is. Let me help you, my lady."
He's earnest, and her gasps tells him she noticed his change in demeanor. She turns her head away from his gaze, and his hands follow her movement. "I don't want to kill anymore," she whispers. "After all of this—it lost its appeal. I don't see why do it, not when…"
She lets the rest of her sentence hang on air, but he just smiles as he lowers one hand to grab her wrist and kiss her knuckles. "All the more reason to go back home," he whispers. "I shall miss you and our time together, but I'd rather have you happy and away from me than close but unhappy."
She sobs quietly. "You saw me," she protests, "and you dare say these things to me?"
"Yes, I saw you," he replies. "And I'm glad for it. Now I have a face to dream of when I close my eyes at night."
She takes a sharp breath. "May I see you?", he pleads. "Just one more time. I won't ask again if you don't wish it."
An eternity seems to fly by before she nods, taking her mask off. The corridor they are in is filled with torchlight, so he can still make out a few details of her face. His fingers travel around it; she's so soft to the touch. He comes closer and kisses her most disfiguring scar, on her left cheek. He hears a soft gasp and pulls away slowly.
"I'm sorry for not saying it then," he whispers, "but your face doesn't disgust me at all, my lady. In fact, I was awestruck by your eyes."
She blinks. "There is nothing out of ordinary with my eyes," she whispers back, skeptic of his words.
"There is," he insists. "They are the bluest I've ever seen, and the most beautiful." He sighs. "I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable—"
"You're not," she cuts him off gently. "It's just—overwhelming, maybe. A bit hard to believe."
"At least trust me to get you out of here," he pleads once again. "If not for your own sake, then for mine. I can't bear to see you like this anymore."
She sighs and puts the mask back on. "I trust you," she finally says. "When you… when you have a plan set in motion, come to me. I'll be waiting for you."
"May I speak to Renly about you?"
"If you think it necessary, yes, but only him."
"Only him. I give you my word."
She nods and disappears inside the other corridor.
The next day, though, greets him with terrible news.
"The Golden Company has invaded Estermont and Tarth," Renly announces. "They claim to fight for Aegon Targaryen, legitimate heir to the Iron Throne, married to his aunt Daenerys. Reports from survivors speak of real, living dragons."