When a war meeting is called, the first thing Jaime does is reveal about the widlfire caches. "I found them while looking for the assassin," he says, as he's not eager to explain he's known about them since Aerys' time.
"Perhaps it was the Ghost's job," Ser Barristan ponders.
Jaime shakes his head. His Lord Commander's theory is good, but going along with it means they won't look for the other caches, which they must. "There were too many to have been put by a single person," he argues instead. "Ser Barristan, I'm sure you remember Aerys' reign as well as I do. How he loved wildfire. Given none of us have ventured through those tunnels in decades, I wouldn't put it past me that they are there since his time."
Selmy gulps and nods. "Perhaps we should look for more in the city's undergrounds," the older knight suggests. "If this was Aerys' stocking, he may have put it anywhere in the city, not just under the castle."
It's exactly what Jaime wanted him to do.
Five days later, the Kingsguard and the City's Watch confirm there are wildfire barrels spread all over the capital's undergrounds. Ser Mandon Moore was the one to contact the pyromancers' guild. "According to them," he reports, "if the caches are from Aerys' time, even a short exposure to the summer sun could ignite them. Apparently, wildfire grow more volatile over time."
Jaime is suddenly reminded of the torches lingering near the caches in the tunnels, and only by a miracle doesn't shudder in public. Robert stands from his seat and paces around. "I won't be King of Ashes," he proclaims. "If we can't get rid of these caches, we must evacuate the city."
"And go where?" Cersei asks, sounding genuinely curious for once.
"Anywhere other than here," Robert replies, looking pensive. "Duskendale, Driftmark, Claw Isle, Dragonstone—no, not that one, they'll look there first. Spread around the riverlands, maybe."
Jon Arryn promises to write evacuation plans in four days.
He meets Brienne that very night, though not before refusing Cersei. "I've missed you," she insists.
"No, you haven't," he snaps. "And if you did, there were others to satisfy you. You're not as discreet as you think you are."
To her credit, she doesn't try to deny her infidelity. "They meant nothing to me," she assures him.
"Oh, I'm sure they didn't," he replies dryly. "But I'm also pretty sure I meant nothing to you either, if I'm so easily replaceable."
He doesn't let her reply.
His heart warms up at the prospect of meeting Brienne, but squeezes at the thought of the danger looming over them. When he calls for her, he stammers a bit, and she shows up asking if he's okay. "I bear terrible news," he says, then debriefs her on the imminent Targaryen invasion.
She hangs her head low. "Any news on Tarth?"
He sighs. "No one knows whether your family survived," he replies, knowing this what she was truly asking. "Or if anything remains."
She nods slowly. He cups her face with his hands, making her look at him. "We can still work with that," he insists. "With the whole city leaving, no one will bother you, and you can go wherever you want."
She shakes her head. "I'll still draw attention, Ser Jaime." Jaime, just Jaime, please. "You may not find me disgusting, but you can't deny my scars can turn heads."
So do your eyes, my Lady Ghost, he thinks, wishing he could see her face again. "Then wait for me," he suggests. "After everyone is out, I'll come here to take you. I won't let you die."
He's granted his wish when she takes her mask off and kisses his cheek. "Thank you," she whispers as she retreats, placing her mask back on. "I don't know what I did to earn your kindness, but still. I'm grateful."
"I wouldn't be a knight if I let an innocent die for something she has nothing to do with."
"I'm no innocent," she whispers sadly.
"In this, you are," he insists. Unable to resist, he gathers her in his arms. "But that's not the only reason. I wanted to tell you the other day, but tonight works just fine. Brienne, my lady, I—I just recently found that I fell in love with you."
She gasps and takes a step back. "You jest," she says, leaving his arms and crossing them under her breasts.
"I'm not," he insists, reaching for her arms.
She takes another step back. "I killed your father," she argues.
"Yes, and I hated you for that at first," he admits. "But… someone had to do it. Before he committed more atrocities. Before he damaged Tyrion more than he already did. I can't judge you for killing him when I did something so similar. Him being my father doesn't blind me to his evil doings."
She sniffs. Is she crying under the mask? "My face… I know you said you don't find it disgusting, but—"
"I believe I mentioned that I found your eyes beautiful," he cuts her off. "I won't try to convince you the rest of your face is pretty. I'm sure you would be stunning without your scars, but they are part of you and your story. And frankly… After what I found out about Cersei—let's just say it was an eye opener. All that beauty, and for nothing. Her inside is ugly, rotten."
She lets her arms fall to the sides, he reaches for them again. "You focus so much on your killing that you forget everything else about you," he goes on. "You are strong, physically and mentally speaking. Most people would not have survived what you did. You are honorable, and despite everything you still hope people can live up to your ideals of a good world—and you made me believe it could be possible, too. You… you had plenty of opportunity to kill me while we trained, but you kept your word. Not many people would do that. You got my trust, then my respect… and now my love."
She gasps. He sighs. "You don't have to feel the same," he adds quickly. "I only ask you to take care of my heart. I know you can do it better than my sister. And I also ask you to live. Not just survive."
She takes a deep breath, and it takes a while for her to answer. "I never thought I'd hear these words," she says quietly, "but I can see you mean them. I'm sorry, I can't say yes or no right now. I never… I never had to think about my feelings before."
"I understand," he says softly, allowing himself to hope. "The Hand of the King will bring evacuation plans in four days. Will that be enough time for you to think?" She nods. "Good." He releases her arms. "Take care, my lady. Oh, and blow off the torches near the caches. The pyromancers claim the wildfire is very volatile."
She nods, and he dares leave a goodbye kiss on the top of her head.
Arryn's evacuation plans are quick and organized. One caravan to Harrenhal, another to Maidenpool, another to the Twins, and two to the Vale. The royal family and the Small Council will head west, to the Queen's ancestral home.
As Kingsguard, Jaime is actively involved in organizing the process. Cersei's refusal to talk to him proves to be useful as she doesn't try to make him go ahead with her. Ser Barristan looks surprised to not see him in the royal caravan, but he shrugs it off.
Despite the urgency, they focus on safety—a panicked crowd would only mean danger, after all—and take three days to finish. The final caravan leaves just as they receive an update on the dragons' path. "They are making their way here," the messenger says. "I'm afraid they are meant to arrive anytime now."
Jaime's heart threatens to leap out of his throat. "Ser Barristan," he calls, "allow me to go back to the city and run a last survey. See if anyone got left behind."
His Lord Commander blinks, but nods. "Be quick," he warns. "I'd hate to lose a sworn brother to fire—dragon or wildfire."
He sounds genuine, which surprises him—Selmy never much cared about Jaime, even before he became the Kingslayer. He turns his horse and goes back inside.
He does a quick survey around the city, but he already knows everyone is out; he personally inspected most of the caravans and had done a parallel survey before the last was formed.
He leaves his horse at the entrance he's familiar with by now and rushes inside, calling Brienne's name. She runs to him and hugs him tight. "I was afraid you wouldn't come," she whispers. "I heard everyone getting out."
"Then why didn't you follow?"
"I still had hope," she replies.
He breaks their hug to cup her face—she's unmasked, much to his delight. Before he can say anything, though, he hears a huge roar and tenses up. "They arrived," he whispers to no one in particular. Then he looks into Brienne's eyes. "We must hurry. I have a horse."
Another roar, and the earth shakes. "How are we—"
"No time for questions, just follow me!"
They run, holding hands as the earth continues to shake underneath them. When they leave, he can see the city walls burning red and green. "It will spread around soon if we don't hurry!" He exclaims, but Brienne stops.
He turns to her and she shakes her head. "We won't reach any city gate in time," she argues, "but I know a passage to a secluded beach."
He looks again at the walls, and he knows she's right. "Show me the way, then."
They are still holding hands, and they try to run even faster, but every now and then they are forced to stop as one of them trips and nearly falls. Sometimes, he thinks he hears the sound of… things falling. Time is against them.
Once, the tunnel's ceiling falls on one side, and Brienne is nearly hit by the debris. He pulls her away just in time, and they wait a bit before climbing the pile and continue on their way.
Eventually he sees a light at the end of the tunnel. The earthquakes intensify, and the walls threaten to crumble around them, but they make out just in time for the tunnel's entrance to fall, blocking the passage.
He looks around. They are indeed in a secluded beach, if the rocky walls around them are any indication. There is a cave by his left side and a floating boat before them. "I think," he says, "we should hide in that cave for today and leave tomorrow."
"Leave to where?" Brienne asks timidly. They are still holding hands.
"Anywhere not Westeros," he replies. "For all we know Tarth no longer stands, and the Targaryens certainly have my name on their top priorities to kill. You are already regarded as dead, and I doubt anyone will hope I survived the city's destruction." The sounds of the capital falling under fire grow louder and louder. "We'll go far from here and start new lives, under new identities, with no care in the world for people who care nothing for us."
She glances away. Her mask seems to have gotten lost midway out, for she longer holds it in her hands. "I thought you'd want to be with your family, even with the dangers," she says.
Before he can stop himself, he hugs her. "My sister means nothing to me, and I meant nothing to her," he says. "My children were never really mine, and Tyrion can protect them better than I ever could. My brother will miss me, surely, but he's Lord of Casterly Rock now. He has all protection he can boast of, and it's thanks to you." He breaks the hug to kiss her forehead. "If you'll have me, I'll gladly be your family."
She smiles, and a tear falls from her beautiful eyes. "I'll have you. I… I'm not well versed in love, but I'm fairly sure that's the name of what I feel for you."
He smiles wide. "I must admit this is a pleasant surprise."
"Really?" She cups his cheek with her right hand. "I fancied Renly for one act of kindness, and yet you can't fathom I'd fall for you for doing so much more?" She shakes her head. "You are a man of honor, Ser Jaime. I've seen it. And I can't think of a kinder future than having you in it."
They seal their unspoken promises with a sweet, loving kiss.
Ten years later
"Rohanne, come back here and finish your supper!"
"But, papa, I'm not hungry anymore!"
"Well, you should've thought of that before throwing a sennight's worth of food in your plate!"
His daughter pouts adorably, but obeys him and finishes her meal. It's hard to feign anger at her when she tries to use her big blue eyes—identical to her mother's—to convince him to let her stop, but he makes it through, and she leaves an empty plate.
Brienne emerges from the other door as soon as Rohanne leaves for the yard, where the other kids play. "I was afraid she'd throw up for a moment," she says, circling him from the side with her strong arms. "Don't be so hard next time."
"All part of a proper Lannister education," he teases, kissing her nose.
Rohanne was born from Brienne's third pregnancy alongside her twin sister Jenny. Over ten years, his wife—whom he married as soon they found a sept in Braavos, under the guises of Arwyn Storm and Jason Hill—got pregnant four times, always birthing twins. Each labor was torture for him, as he always feared the worst, but his beloved Brienne always won the battle.
Their first set of twins were boys, Galladon and Tyrion, born a year and half after the wedding. They had left Braavos by them, fearful of someone recognizing Jaime and reporting it to King Aegon, Sixth of His Name, and lived in Qohor.
When the second set came—a boy and girl, Selwyn and Arianne—they had moved to Norvos, but soon after they left for Lys, where Rohanne and Jenny were born a year later.
The last pair came after they confirmed his sister's and children's executions, six years after their departure. Jaime did not want to name any baby after his deceased children, but he did ask her permission to name one of their twin daughters Cersei. She agreed, and the other twin was named after her mother, Alyssa.
Nowadays, they are back in Braavos. By now they highly doubt anyone still looks for the Kingslayer, and his hair and beard are not getting any more golden. Brienne enjoys running her hands through his beard, and he enjoys how the acts makes him feel cared for and loved.
Despite their rough start, he never once doubted his love for Brienne, nor hers for him. She's everything he ever wanted, but never dared dream of while with Cersei, and everyday he promises to himself to shower her with all the affection he can muster. When she grants him a smile, when she gasps his name, when she kisses him… He thinks he's keeping that promise well.