The sky was black, the torchlight beneath the low clouds lending a sallow glow to the proceedings. Jaime stood at her right, his breath pooling in the air, and Podrick hovered just behind her left shoulder. Most nights she'd been too tired to pay much attention to those around her. Most nights she'd hovered at the back, nearly memorizing Jon's speech. Tonight was different. It all reminded Brienne of the night of the battle.

She'd lifted Lyanna Mormont from the dirt herself four days before. The tiny warrior's broken body had weighed nothing in her arms, and Brienne had struggled to compose herself as she'd laid it beside that of the girl's uncle in the snow.

The wind tousled Brienne's hair and she shivered beneath the cloak. She'd become accustomed to the chill, but it was easier when one was moving or constantly about. Tonight she'd been inside by the fire too long and her bones felt it; Jaime noticed. As the warden of the North began, Jaime shifted closer until their arms were touching. Despite the barriers of their clothes and cloaks, it sent a shock up Brienne's arm, but she didn't pull away. His nearness managed to warm her all the same.

I told you if you called I would come runnin'

"We're here to say goodbye to our brothers and sisters," Jon began, "To our fathers and mothers. To our friends. Our fellow men and women who set aside their differences... to fight together... and die together so that others might live."

Brienne didn't know well many of those that had fallen. Her closest allies, by the grace of the Warrior, had managed to survive. But standing here outside the gates with those she cared for so near, she felt the trickle of her anxiety creeping down her back once again. There would always be another battle. There was always the risk of loss.

She shifted her feet and leaned ever so slightly into Jaime's arm, the gentle pressure keeping her grounded as she tried to force her misgivings away. He was still here, and he meant to stay, which meant that they would likely fight side-by-side again. And there was nowhere she'd rather be.

Jaime felt her against him, the back of her hand and fingers flush with his, and he breathed deeply at the increased contact, his body relaxing despite the cold and the tension in the air. Aside from Tyrion, Brienne was the only one there who really mattered to him, dead or alive. She was very much alive, and he meant to keep her that way.

"Everyone in this world owes them a debt that can never be repaid. It is our duty and our honor to keep them alive in memory... for those who come after us... and those who come after them... for as long as men draw breath."

Jaime swallowed as some of the torches split out from the crowd, approaching places of honor on the pyres – for the Mormonts, for Sansa Stark saying goodbye to Theon – and he wondered whether he would have received the same honor, or if Daenerys would have insisted his body be quartered and dragged to the woods to be fed on by beasts. Or would Bran have insisted he be hung from the broken tower for the crows to feast on instead? So many options for so many crimes. Tyrion and Brienne might have objected, but who could deny the queen and the raven their vengeance?

As if she sensed that he was standing on the precipice of his inner darkness, Brienne bravely slipped her hand under his and clumsily grasped it, some of their gloved fingers entwining. And as the torches lit the pyres, he absently stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

It was an innocent gesture for both of them, she knew, a comfort just as it had been at Riverrun when she'd re-entered his tent and tried to coax him out of his spiral of self-loathing.

Across the highs the lows and the in between

"They were the shields that guarded the realms of men. And we shall never see their like again."

The pyres lit and the crowd beginning to disperse, Jaime squeezed her hand and released it, his fingers dragging across the skin of her unprotected wrist as he detangled himself from her cloak, causing another chill to run down her spine.

He turned to her, noticing that the brighter fires seemed to wash away the bruises that still haunted her face, but her lips were pale with cold. "You should get inside. It's only going to get colder. We'll do this all again tomorrow."

"I hope not all of it," she said, "If I accuse you of secret plans again tomorrow—"

"—I'll swear my sword to you all over again. I'll knight you again, if that would help. I think Tormund mentioned repetitive knighting as a possibility, didn't he?" He grinned slyly as he caught her blushing when she looked away, and he could see Podrick smiling widely at the joke, but both men lost their levity when she turned back to him with brows knit together.

"Leave the man be – he and his people fought the white walkers for longer than we ever did, and he's lost all the more for it."

Jaime looked down, feeling as if she'd just slapped the hand she'd been holding moments before. Could she have feelings for the wildling? "As you wish, my lady."

She eyed him with that look of disdain that he'd come to love but he could only return an introspective grin. "I must speak with my brother," he said with as much pleasantry as he could muster, "Goodnight, Ser Brienne."

She blinked at him, surprised at his sudden resolve, and nodded. "Good night—" He had moved away into the crowd before she could speak his name.

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 "You and Me" by Alecia Moore and Dallas Green (C) 2014.

OMG 4 chapters in one day? Don't get used to it, eventually I need to sleep! Thank you all for reading and reviewing!