Look to the past, Bran had said to him, You'd still be that man if you hadn't pushed me out of that window. As soon as Tyrion told him that Brienne was going to be commanding part of the forces, something had clicked for Jaime. Bran was right – if he hadn't pushed him, Catelyn Stark would not have forged a path south. She would not have gone to treat with Renley and, after his murder, take Brienne into her service. She would not have been there to stop the Karstarks from murdering Jaime. And if he'd never met Brienne - The only guarantees in this world are in the past.

Yes, he thought as he descended the steps to the yard, he would have been that same man had it not been for Brienne. Cold to the world and loyal to someone who could be loyal only to herself. He might still have both hands, but he would be a weak, empty man without her influence. Slowly he felt the grip of guilt start to melt away – everything he had done to this point, even that which he'd done in Cersei's name – all the weak, cruel, terrible things he'd done – had led him back.

Even if Bran could not outright forgive him, even if he truly did not deserve anyone's forgiveness, he could at least forgive himself knowing it had led to this moment – knowing that it would allow him to fight by the side of the woman he trusted most in this world. He walked through the gate and wound his way around the trenches in search of her.

Brienne had slept poorly and risen late that morning. She'd spent a long time watching the fire die, anxious for Jaime but not comprehending why. True, Jaime's friendship had irreparably changed her –he believed in her in a way that no one else ever had, and being in his presence made her feel inexplicably whole. That, she told herself, was why she'd defended him, why she would have fought everyone in that hall for him if Daenerys had forced her to.

But to what end? No matter how much she cared for him, he always wound up back at Cersei's side. Whether it was out of real love for her or a dependence rooted in the self-hatred she knew him to harbor, it was hard to tell.

He'd been curt with her in the capital, treating her humanely only once his sister had called her false truce. Even now when he'd ridden himself ragged to join the north she'd seen him raise his chin in defiance at the mention of her. He always returned to his queen in the end.

As she dressed she found herself stroking her steely blue armor, feeling for nicks and dents. If they survived this battle, she would need something new. It might last a while longer but the less she had to remind her of the man, the better.

Know what we've seen

And yet. She found herself looking for him in the hall, and in the yard. When she joined Pod on the makeshift training grounds Pod had only nodded and continued sparring. She found herself distracted from the training and cursed Jaime under her breath even as she scanned the grounds for the sight of him. He could have stayed in the south and avoided her there. It would make his return to his sister quicker too. Was it possible, she thought wryly, that he so enjoyed antagonizing her that he'd ridden for weeks just to do it here in Winterfell?

She turned to watch Podrick working with a northern brat who'd been too young to fight in King Robb's war and needed conditioning. She took pride in Pod - they'd been through much together and he had grown so much under her tutelage, taking to her like the younger brother she'd never had. She watched him barking orders at the lad and smiled to herself. Podrick would make a fine knight one day.

She felt the man approach before she saw him – at least her senses had not been dulled by the cold, she thought, even as that familiar knot in her stomach seemed to tighten, her smile evaporating. She glanced to her right and spotted his garish golden hand poking out of the unfamiliar cloak and met his eyes just for a moment in greeting before looking away. His expression was warm, and his good arm just brushed hers as she turned back to Podrick and his adversary.

They watched in silence as the younger man managed to best Pod for the first time, Podrick scowling and daring him to do it again. She chanced a sidelong glance at Jaime and could see that he was watching the squire with admiration. Just then, he turned toward her, and she braced herself for one of his verbal jabs that she was so accustomed to, cursing herself for walking into it.

"He's come a long way."

She didn't expect the compliment. I'm proud of you, he'd said at Riverrun. The effect was the same. But she knew him well enough to anticipate some snide remark to follow, and she wasn't ready to let him have the last word…and he was standing too close.

"He's alright," she said, trying to beat him to the joke and turning on her heel, "he still has a lot to learn," she tossed over her shoulder. She hadn't really expected him to follow her.

"I'm sure you'll teach him."

She looked back at him, but kept moving hoping to put some distance between them before he could injure her with whatever cruel joke of his was lying beneath.

"I've been told you're commanding the left flank."

Thank the gods, she thought to herself, at least strategy could be impersonal. "I am. It's uh, it's good ground," she said, pointing in the direction of the hill. "The rise, it should give us some advantage. If we can keep a tight formation, we might be able to beat them back."

"Yes, I think you're right." Jaime said almost too quickly.

And him with less

He was too agreeable, too pleasant. The last time he'd used this particular tone with her, he'd given her a sword and sent her thousands of miles away. Her heart was suddenly beating out of her chest as she rounded on him.

"What are you doing?!"

"What?"

"I think you know." He was trying to leave, she was certain of it. He'd only ever been complimentary when trying to get rid of her.

"I truly don't."

She was going to have to spell it out. "We have never had a conversation last this long without you insulting me, not once." It wasn't true, but it would make her point for her.

"You want me to insult you?!"

"No!"

"Good!"

She looked away from him, unable to meet his eyes even as he stared at her. Fuck loyalty chanted like a mantra in her head. If he was going to leave, better he do it now.

Now in some way
Shake the excess

"I came to Winterfell because – " she looked back at him, and his eyes bore into hers as if trying to silently communicate when the words wouldn't come.

Even as he stood before her struggling with his thoughts, she could envision his younger, sometimes more haggard, self – that look on his face every time they'd parted: when he'd left her behind at Harrenhal, when he'd sent her away from King's Landing, when he'd stood on the wall at Riverrun and guarded their escape, and when he'd looked back over his shoulder at her on his return to the Red Keep after Cersei had promised aid to the north. She silently compared his current apparent turmoil with each moment, trying to read the signs, to steel herself for the inevitable.

But he didn't finish the thought. Instead, his expression softened and he leaned in, nearly whispering, "I'm not the fighter I used to be. But I'd be honored to serve under your command, if you'll have me." Brienne stared at him in shock, searching his eyes and waiting for a jape that would never land. He was in earnest. He wasn't going anywhere. He was ready to stay and fight by her side as she had promised Sansa they would, ready to die by her side if fate so dictated. Suddenly, the bitterness that she'd allowed to creep in dissipated. She nodded in assent and when she met his eyes again there was feeling there that she'd not anticipated and they both sucked in a sharp breath simultaneously. Gradually she became aware of the clanging of swords around them.

"I better get back," she said numbly, and he stepped aside to let her pass back the way they'd come. She walked past him and all the way back to where Podrick was resting between combatants, forcing her eyes forward the whole way.

Jaime watched her go. He could see that she'd expected less of him, and that his declaration had managed to stun her. In the past he might have been offended at her anticipated disappointment, even while recognizing that he likely deserved it. But now he was inclined to not let it bother him. The past was irrelevant All he could do now in the present was continue to prove to her that he was worthy of her trust. And if there was a future beyond this fight, he swore silently, he would strive to never give her a reason to walk away from him again.

He observed her with Podrick from a distance for a few moments longer before deciding to head back to the castle to find some occupation for himself. He'd walked back along the path he'd taken with her and had almost passed Pod's sparring ground when a horn sounded in the distance.

A/N: I do not own Game of Throne or these characters; some dialogue may be taken verbatim from HBO's Game of Thrones or George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire. Lyrics used are directly from Mumford & Sons' "I Will Wait" (C) 2012.