When her moon blood doesn't come at the full moon, days after Jaime's departure, she doesn't think much of it. It's never really been regular, especially after she left Tarth. Back on the road, she'd go two or three moons without it coming. It had somewhat gone back to normal when she settled in Winterfell, but not entirely—at least, not to the point she'd worry about a few days' delay.
In fact, she only gets concerned another moon turn later, when Lady Sansa receives confirmation of Jaime's death alongside his twin's, as well as a report regarding the fall of King's Landing—which she predicted and warned Jaime about—and the Dragon Queen's death at the hands of her lover—that, she could not have foreseen. Her liege lady announces they must go to the ruined city for a Great Council meeting, and Brienne promptly packs her things. A few days into the road, however, she feels a sharp pain in her belly, followed by bleeding.
It comes more intensely than usual, both in account of the amount of bleeding and the intensity of her cramps. It reaches a point where Lady Sansa takes pause on their journey so she can get proper rest. Normally, she'd object, but she's too weak to protest and just lets herself be looked after. Lady Sansa's kind touch does not resemble Jaime's at all, and yet she's reminded of how gentle he was with her back in that month.
Her physical suffering only lasts three days, though, and soon she's back on the road. Podrick keeps sending her strange looks, as if there is a question on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't dare voicing it. She wonders how familiar he is with womanly issues; she always hid her moon blood periods from him, which was easy back then, given the time between each bleeding and the near lack of pain and side effects. Usually, all Brienne felt was a tenderness in her breasts, which haven't bothered her in years; the cramps she had now are something completely new, and she hopes them to be a one-time thing.
Her emotional suffering, though, is another matter entirely, one she does not dare show to the world. Lady Sansa has known about her and Jaime since before they truly got together, and although she never vocally disapproved, she never took part of her joy in it either. Whether it was due to her own personal issues with him or due to her distrust in men in general, she didn't know. So, when Jaime coldly left her to ride to his death, she didn't explain the details of his departure to Sansa, only that he left. It hurt too much to say anything more.
Brienne has learned, from her experience with Renly, that time heals most wounds. Rationally, she is sure that she will eventually move on from Jaime. However, her heart soundly disagrees. Her soul screams that he had been the one for her, and nobody will ever replace him—there is simply no getting over him.
Still, she keeps her head held high. No one will see her grief, for it is her own to bear. If nobody sees it, nobody will judge it or give 'advice'; she doesn't need any of that. Her time with Jaime is something that belonged to them and them alone—and now, to her and her alone. She won't let anyone else in.
Of course, for it to happen, she must be of sound mind, which soon she finds herself not to be, when she wakes up one morning with the highest fever.
After examining her from head to toe, the maester asks whether she had sex in the past two months—yes, she did—and if her moon blood is late. "It came late", she whispers, "but came nonetheless."
Lady Sansa, however, is quick to describe how painful those three days were for her, which makes the maester pause. "My lady", he tells her eventually, "it seems to me that you had a miscarriage, and its remains left room for infection to set in. It happens sometimes, especially when the woman does not realize her 'moon blood' is actually an abortion."
She sobs when she finally convinces Lady Sansa to leave her alone for a few moments. A miscarriage means she had gotten pregnant by Jaime; it means she had had a chance to carry a memory of him, of what they shared, and the gods took even that away from her. And, to make things worse, they grant me an infection just to make light of what I lost. Had this not happened, I'd have moved on with my life unaware of this. Now grief is inevitable. As if I'm not grieving enough!
She doesn't stop crying in time to hide her tears from her liege lady, but she only offers comfort instead. "I'm sorry", she whispers. "I cannot imagine how hard this must be for you."
She mutters many other soothing words, but Brienne can only think of how it should be Jaime comforting her in Sansa's place. The wound in her heart opens deeper with each sob.
Days go by, and, despite the maester's efforts, her fever doesn't go away. He tries to massage her belly to expel all infected remains, but it never seems to work. She's in and out of consciousness most of the time, and her resolve to keep her emotional pain inside herself crumbles as she grows weaker in all senses of the word.
Both Podrick and Lady Sansa watch as she tearfully tells details of how Jaime left her and talks about how much she loved—loves—him. She can vaguely make out they are heartbroken over her words, but, more often than not, she can't see them well enough to discern their expressions.
Then, one day—she has no idea how much time has passed since the fever first came—the maester declares he has done all he can to heal her, and now all that is left is alivietaing her suffering. She hears Podrick scream and Lady Sansa sob, and she tries to give them a reassuring smile. When her liege lady kneels in front of her, asking whether she wants milk of the poppy in order to sleep, she doesn't answer. Instead, she says, "It's alright, my lady. My baby will be waiting for me, and so will my mother and my siblings."
Perhaps her father awaits her in the afterlife too. It's been years since she last heard of him; for all she knows, he's dead as well. If the gods are kind, Jaime—her Jaime, not the one who left her for Cersei—will be there, ready to embrace her like he did so many times.
Assuming her to be delirious, Lady Sansa asks Podrick to give her the poppy. She wants to refuse at first, but thinks better of it. The poppy will give her sweet dreams as she drifts away from this world, dreams better than the painful reality. So she doesn't fight it as Podrick pours the cup down her throat while sobbing.
She doesn't dream of Jaime, or of her deceased family. Instead, when she opens her eyes, she is greeted by the vision of what she immediately recognizes as her old chambers in Evenfall. She's lying on her bed, dressed in the nightclothes she used to wear in her youth, and she can feel herself younger.
Out of all things to dream about… She rises from her bed, looking for her small mirror. A quick look confirms her suspicions: she's dreaming of when she was five-and-ten.
But if I'm dreaming, how am I so aware of it? How does everything feel so real? I've never dreamed like this before. Perhaps it is an effect of the poppy? She had never drunk it before; her body's pain endurance has always been high, and, in the few times she wished for the drink, it wasn't available.
Dreams don't make much sense, she recalls. If things play out in the way they used to back then, I'll know this isn't one. But what else can it be, if not a dream? Did she go back in time after passing out—or dying (as it's most likely what happened)? It sounds ludicrous, but, as of now, it's the only alternative that makes sense other than this being an elaborate dream, which she never had. Her dreams are usually vague and nonsensical, even those who impact her emotionally in some way. Being able to conduct logical thoughts from beginning to end is not something she does while asleep.
Besides, time travel does not sound so absurd after all she's seen: dead men walking, White Walkers, dragons reborn, witches, a young man being capable of seeing the past, the present and likely the future—
Bran Stark. She gasps. If anyone could have sent her back in time, it'd be him. Brienne never learned much about his powers as the Three-Eyed Raven, only that he seemed to have lost some sense of self after acquiring them, for he always insisted he was not Bran anymore, but time travel does not seem far-fetched to include on his list of abilities. But why her, and why here and now?
She sighs and begins to change her clothes. She won't get any answers if she remains in her chambers. She must go outside and see any signs of incongruences that might clue her that this is a dream, and, if not, why she was sent back to this exact point in time.
As she gets dressed, she inspects her room once again. Nothing looks out of place, although perhaps her memory is failing her. She was taken back to over thirty years ago; details of that time might easily be lost to her. For now, though, she allows herself to dismiss that suspicion and assume her current room is an accurate copy of her old one.
She takes one last look at the mirror before leaving. Her younger face is no prettier than her older one, of course, but there is a softness in it she didn't remember having until she saw it again. How would fifteen-year-old Brienne have reacted to Jaime?
With the same scorn I afforded him when we first met, she thinks. I'd only see a kingslayer, a man without honor—Wait. If she is five-and-ten now, so must be Jaime. They were born in the same year, mere three moons apart; she found out by accident, when Sansa told her about the Queen's name day feast she was forced to attend while captive in King's Landing—she's slightly older than him.
Jaime has yet to become the Kingslayer. In fact, depending on which day she came back to, he has yet to be made Kingsguard, or even knighted. He told her about it in the month they spent together: how he visited Cersei after his knighting, how they had their first time and she 'lured him' to join the Kingsguard so they could stay together. He said that with some resentment in his voice, as if, decades later, he utterly regretted 'falling' for her talks. It must have been wishful thinking of my part, she admits. He went back to her, after all.
She shakes her head to dispel those thoughts, refusing to remember the hurt Jaime inflicted on her. He died for it, and the Jaime she has access to now—if her predicament is a result of time travel instead of a dream—is not that man. If she knows anything about the man she loved, this Jaime must be a cocky boy with a golden heart underneath, not so different from the one she discovered over the years she got to know him and the month she got to spend joined as one with him.
Realization dawns on her, and she freezes with her hand midway to the door handle. If Jaime does not join the Kingsguard, he goes back to Casterly Rock to assume his place as his father's heir. Maybe he even becomes acting lord; if she remembers his tale right, Lord Tywin quit being Hand of the King due to his son's admission to the Kingsguard, meaning he would have stayed otherwise. Tywin Lannister remaining in his office could mean huge changes in the war that followed…
But without Jaime joining the Kingsguard, who would? And would this person make the hard choice to save King's Landing from wildfire? To be entirely honest, Brienne still doesn't know whether she'd do what he did or not. She'd stop the pyromancer, yes, but would she have gone as far as killing Aerys to prevent him from giving any more orders? Or would she have stopped at that, probably allowing the other pyromancers to carry the order out regardless?
I don't need to wonder what I would have done back then, she realizes. I know what must be done when the time comes. A woman in the Kingsguard is unheard of; she was the first in history, thanks to Renly—a feat that may never be recognized, depending on how the young Baratheon will go down in history. However, the current king is mad. If Cersei, a random noble girl, convinced him to name her Hand's heir to the order, tricking him into making history by welcoming a woman may not be so hard.
However, that can only happen if she was sent back before the tourney in Harrenhal. That was where Jaime was appointed Kingsguard, so that is where she must go if she wants to say the vows in his place. She remembers her father left her in Tarth as he traveled; all she needs to do is to convince him to take her. The rest she'd think about on her way there.
She motions to open the door, but stops herself once again. Why did she just plan to take the Kingsguard in Jaime's place? Why sacrifice her own inheritance—for she already is her father's only living child—for a boy whose older self left her to die with his sister-lover?
Because you love him, she reminds herself. Because, despite his last action, he made you feel loved for an entire moon turn with his kisses, his touches, his words and even the way he looked at you. Even if it was all a lie, he cared enough to pretend to love the woman who warmed his bed at night. And because now he is only a boy, unaware of most of the evils of the world. He only laid with Cersei once, and he is not the Kingslayer, his spirit broken by the realm's disgust at his finest act. He can still be saved, unlike the Jaime I lost—unlike my lost child's father.
Her hands go to her stomach. It's hard from all the muscles she's built since she was ten years old, with none of the softness a pregnant belly would have. Was she even afforded that softness before losing her baby? She can't remember any changes on her body before those awful days of intense bleeding. Probably not, she concludes, it was too soon. For a fleeting moment, she wonders whether Jaime would have realized it, had he stayed. He always looked at her body with rapt attention, as if trying to memorize every inch of it. No, no, no; don't think like that. You were little more than a whore to him. It hurts to think of their relationship that way, but how else can she call it, if he did not love her in the end?
Regardless, her wish to rescue him from a dark future is too strong to be ignored, and she loves him too much to leave him to his fate. Besides, if she is admitted to the Kingsguard now, there is plenty of time for her father to remarry and sire new children. He's always refused to, in memory of her mother, but the complete lack of heirs would drive him to do it.
(Is she really going to submit her father to that kind of suffering for Jaime? By the gods, she wishes the answer wasn't such a firm yes.)
Taking a deep breath, she finally opens the door and ventures outside. Her reverie will have been all for nothing if this turns out to be a dream, or if she arrived too late to stop Jaime's admission to the Kingsguard.
It doesn't take her too long to find out that no, this is not a dream, and yes, she was sent back before the tourney. By her account, Jaime must have just been knighted.
Convincing her father to let her come with him to Harrenhal is easier than it would have been back then. Years of hardship were useful for building some confidence within her, and it showed when she went to her father with her request. He even commented he has never seen her so sure of herself.
She trains with Ser Goodwin, trying to play her skill down so he won't ask questions. He still looks impressed by her quick improvement, but attributes it to her effort and her lineage—being a direct descendant of Ser Duncan the Tall does have its perks.
Septa Roelle is as unforgiving as always, but now Brienne knows better than to be hurt by her words—for she was right, after all. Jaime had made her believe, for a month, that she could be desired and loved despite her looks and mannish behavior, but it had all been lies in the end, and the truth was indeed in the mirror. Still, she's relieved when the woman stays behind in Tarth as she and her father leave for Harrenhal.
Although the tourney's preparations and the presence of so many tents changed the castle's appearance, Brienne is still brought back to her time there—or rather, to all the moments she shared with Jaime there. It was in one of its baths that he spilled the truth that changed her entire opinion of him, and it was in its bear pit that she began to fall in love with him. It's too much, so she's grateful that her father chose to stay outside rather than accept Lord Whent's invitation to stay in one of the castle's countless chambers.
Lord Whent… gods I feel so old, she muses. By the time she left Tarth back then, House Whent had been essentially extinct, with the last two members—mother and daughter, the one whose name day prompted this very tourney—killed by Lannister men. Lord Whent died in Robert's Rebellion, and so did his four sons and his brother, Ser Oswell of the Kingsguard. Way before that, the only other Whent died in the birth bed, no longer being addressed by her maiden name, but by her married one instead—Minisa Tully, wife to Hoster Tully, mother of Edmure, Catelyn and Lysa.
The thought brings her back to her brief time serving Lady Catelyn. Her eyes search for the Tully banners, only to realize that they must certainly be inside Harrenhal, as Lord Whent's overlord family and honored guests. In fact, she won't be surprised if all Great Houses are settled inside, and the wolf, trout, lion, flower and stag banners all belong to common soldiers' tents.
Choosing to remain in her shirt and breeches rather than changing to a gown that won't suit her well, she takes a stroll inside the likely haunted castle. The yards where Jaime was pushed to the ground are occupied by three sets of bleachers, painted with what she assumes to be House Whent's colors—yellow and black, not unlike House Baratheon.
She walks around in search of the bear pit, but is interrupted when a figure catches her eyes. The man—boy—is turned on his back, but the golden hair is unmistakably Lannister, and its length—hitting his shoulder but not going an inch beyond that—is suspicious at best. He is not wearing armor, but a crimson jacket combined with beige breeches instead, which is distractingly form-fitting.
She'd recognize those back muscles anywhere.
She takes a step back and tries to leave, but, as if sensing her presence, he turns to her. She holds her breath as he looks up and down at her and, with wide eyes, walks to her. His expression speaks of recognition, but how, if they never met before Riverrun—
"Brienne", he calls, voice soft and exasperated at the same time. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to have come?"
She blinks. How does he know her name? Granted, perhaps she looks so much like her father that her identity is obvious, but that is not what the familiarity with which he says her name speaks of. Also, on what ground does he state she should not be in Harrenhal?
Gods, no. It cannot be… but it's the only plausible explanation.
"You came back, too", she whispers. He nods, with a steadiness that indicates he came to that conclusion as soon as he saw her. "Why?"
"I have no idea", he replies quietly, lowering his eyes to the ground. "Why are you here?"
"I don't know either", she admits, "but I had planned to find a way to keep you from joining the Kingsguard." At that, he raises his head abruptly. "To save you from becoming the Kingslayer", she adds.
His eyes glimmer with unshed tears. "I'm sorry, Brienne", he whispers. "You came here to rescue me, but it's too late. I'm already hateful." Then he rushes past her, once again leaving her alone and heartbroken. But why would she expect it to be any different?