Based on events during Episode 2 of GoT Season 8

(Also includes flashback from Episode 8 of GoT Season 2)

~ Present Day ~

The Unsullied were testing out the effectiveness of the trench and various catapults surrounding the perimeter of the castle and numerous soldiers were riding around erratically on their horses, but all Brienne could focus on was Podrick as he trained outside with one of the Northern squires. Their fight was entertaining to watch, but mainly because it made Brienne so pleased to see Pod's progress.

'Good. Yes, aim. Don't rush,' Pod was saying to his fighting companion as he adjusted the hold of his sword. 'Come forward. Come on.'

There was a look of pride on Brienne's face as she continued to watch him practice, but then she was distracted as she sensed someone approach to stand beside her. She knew who it was without even needing to look around, and her smile began to fade slightly. She wished he hadn't sneaked up on her like that; it had caught her completely off guard. She had been hoping to mentally prepare herself and plan what to say before this moment came. But here he was, stood beside her. Her heart began to race. She then realised that he was waiting for her to acknowledge him.

Brienne swallowed nervously as she inclined her head towards him. 'Ser Jaime,' she greeted politely, nodding.

Jaime practically bowed his head towards her as he tried not to smile at how formal she was being. 'Lady Brienne.'

He spoke her name softly – affectionately, even – and it only made Brienne more nervous as she turned back to watch Pod. The two of them were silent for a while as they watched Pod almost as if they were his proud parents. Neither of them knew what to say to each other. Jaime kept glancing sideways at Brienne, his one true and loyal friend, hardly daring to believe that he was really here with her, that after weeks of thinking about this moment he was finally at her side. Brienne remained solemnly silent as she tried but failed to concentrate on Pod, wondering what Jaime had left the confines of the castle for. Had he come over this way to find her specifically? Or had he just made a detour to be polite and acknowledge her before moving onto more important people here at Winterfell? Either way, whatever the reason, she had opened herself up to vulnerability by what she had done earlier, and she needed to put her guard back up. This was Jaime, after all. She didn't want him to make a fool out of her, and she certainly didn't want to end up pining after someone she couldn't have. She couldn't go through that again.

As the swords clashed violently before them, Jaime realised he could bear the awkward silence no longer.

'He's come a long way,' he said, pressing his arm briefly against Brienne's and sending tingles running through her body as he turned to face her.

Brienne nodded. 'He's all right,' she said, turning away from Jaime. 'Still has a lot to learn.'

Jaime wasn't sure if they were talking about Pod anymore. Brienne wasn't either.

Jaime was slightly disappointed. After her generous words of support for him in the great hall earlier, he had been hoping for a somewhat friendlier reunion between them. He wondered if she was trying to downplay what had happened in the trial now, if she was deliberately acting indifferent out of embarrassment. Knowing Brienne and her discomfort at expressing how she felt, it wouldn't surprise him. Or perhaps she was still bitter about the way he had spoken to her during their last meeting at the Dragonpit in King's Landing. This was fair enough, Jaime conceded; after all, he had been unforgivably rude. But now was the time to make amends for that.

'I'm sure you'll teach him,' Jaime said hopefully, following her as she began to walk through the campsite where the troops were preparing.

Brienne looked at him and frowned. Was that a compliment? She looked away again, confused, as she strode on through the field. Jaime hurried to keep up; his eagerness bewildered her.

'I've been told you're commanding the left flank,' he said keenly; he had asked about her not long after his trial when briefly discussing military tactics with Jon Snow.

'I am,' Brienne replied as they walked on. 'It's, uh…it's good ground.'

'It is,' Jaime agreed, unable to take his eyes off her.

Why does he keep agreeing with me? What the hell is he playing at?

Brienne was disconcerted by how kind and unsure he was being. For someone who had initially been so cruel and unrefined and coarse towards her, Jaime's tentative behaviour now was almost sweet. It made Brienne wonder if perhaps this side of him had always been there, but she just hadn't noticed it before because she hadn't been able to see him as anything but the Kingslayer. She had wondered this often when reflecting on their intense time together forced in each other's company all those years ago.

'The rise – it should give us some advantage,' Brienne explained, pointing at the field ahead as they came to a halt. 'If we can keep a tight formation, we might be able to beat them back.'

Jaime exhaled deeply as he nodded, impressed. 'Yes,' he replied, 'I think you're right.'

At this, Brienne had had enough. She rounded on him.

'What are you doing?' she demanded, frowning at him.

'What?' Jaime asked innocently, perplexed by the accusing, almost distrustful look in her eyes.

'I think you know,' Brienne said, aggravated.

She needed to know why he was being like this and what the hell he was doing here. She needed to know why. She was too scared to hope or believe anything unless the words came from his lips. Shocked by her abrupt reaction, Jaime stared at her in bewilderment. He hadn't seen this coming at all.

'I truly don't,' Jaime insisted.

'We have never had a conversation last this long without you insulting me. Not once,' Brienne said shortly.

Jaime was riled, not the least because he knew her statement wasn't quite true. 'You want me to insult you?' he said incredulously, scowling at her.

'No!' Brienne said sharply at once, embarrassed.

'Good!' Jaime snapped, turning away agitatedly before looking back up at her, exhaling deeply.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them as they both drowned in their frustration and longing. Mortified, Brienne kept her face turned away slightly so that he couldn't see that she was blushing. She had been unprepared for such a change in him, and it was unsettling.

Jaime looked back up at the field, infuriated with himself. And with her, of course. Ah, how he had missed the bickering. Locke and his men had often said the two of them were like an old married couple, constantly arguing and bantering and exchanging snide quips back and forth. Jaime wondered why Brienne was making this so difficult, why she had put her walls up so high after everything she had said about him at the trial, but then he supposed it made sense for her to be suspicious of the lack of teasing on his part. She wasn't used to this side of him. Then again, neither was he.

From nearby, Pod glanced warily over at Brienne as he swapped fighting partners. She and Ser Jaime were stood determinedly not looking at each other, clearly in the midst of an argument. Even though he wasn't stood with them, Pod could practically taste the sexual tension in the air. Years of suppressed feelings had led to this and culminated in one big awkward mess, because of course neither Jaime nor Brienne had any idea how to deal with or express those feelings.

Brienne was extremely distrustful; she had been constantly mocked and mistreated for her manly appearance all her life, and her only experience of love had been the unrequited kind. She certainly would never expect someone as handsome or legendary as Jaime Lannister to ever reciprocate her attraction. Jaime, on the other hand, only had the experience of a toxic, abusive romantic relationship with his sister, one that had completely consumed him, and now that he had finally broken free from that, he was completely at a loss with how normal relationships were meant to work. This was all completely new, for both them.

Swallowing nervously, Jaime bent his head low and stared at the ground, twitching and hovering like a nervous animal in the line of fire. He didn't know where to begin. He opened his mouth to speak as he adjusted his footing, but no sound came out and he closed it again. Brienne watched him warily in her peripheral vision. What was going on? It was as if all his confidence and ego had completely disappeared. Instead he was fidgeting anxiously beside her like a scared little boy. She might have perhaps laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, if it weren't for her thudding heartbeat and trembling fear, and instead she found herself fantasizing about what could possibly be racing through his mind in this very moment.

Keeping his eyes firmly on the ground, Jaime then took a deep breath. 'I came to Winterfell because…'

He paused, interrupting himself before he could verbally express the realisation that had only just truly hit him. Brienne stared at him, alarmed. His silence was almost more telling than the words left unsaid. The words they both knew he wanted to say but was too afraid to.

Jaime forced himself to look up and meet her bewildered gaze. He needed her to know that he would walk through fire for her, that he would try to tackle every White Walker single-handedly, that he would do anything just to be by her side, to fix the damage he had done ever since he'd made the mistake of not leaving King's Landing with her to find Sansa when he'd had the chance, to make her see that she was the reason that kept him going and that had brought him here to this very spot. But, of course, he couldn't say that. He couldn't say any of it. His walls were coming down, and he was opening himself up to the very real possibility that he could be falling in love with someone else, but it terrified him. He didn't deserve Brienne. He wasn't even sure if she felt the same way. How could he risk potentially ruining such a close friendship with this wonderful woman?

But then he took in Brienne's confused expression and read the hope barely concealed in her earnest gaze and in the parting of her lips. He tilted his head at her, his eyes indignant, wordlessly telling her: you know why I came here.

Jaime took a hesitant step towards her. 'I'm not the fighter I used to be,' he said heavily, stunning Brienne even more. 'But I'd be honoured to serve under your command, if you'll have me.'

Brienne merely continued to stare at him, seemingly frozen in a state of shock. Part of her waited for him to start laughing and yet the other part of her somehow knew, from the sincerity in his voice and gaze, that he meant it.

There was a silence as they both gazed in wonder at each other, the monumental nature of the words he had just said sinking into both their minds. Jaime had never humbled himself to offer his service to someone who wasn't a Lannister before, but Brienne was the one person he respected and admired the most. She was the only one he would want to follow to the very end, because he believed in her and the great warrior she had become. And now he knew the time had finally come for him to let his guard down and to express his truth to Brienne for once: that he wanted to be close to her when they faced death. That was all that really mattered to him.

In the moments that passed after Jaime had made his declaration, he couldn't help wondering if Brienne was all right; she was completely still and silent, the only part of her moving being her eyes as they desperately searched his to confirm that he was indeed being serious.

After a long hesitation, Brienne gave a slow nod, blinking rapidly and still rather dazed as she did so.

Jaime simply gazed back at her. He could see just how taken aback Brienne was by his open validation of her, but he had no idea of the whirlwind of emotions racing through her mind.

She had long resigned herself to the fact that Jaime was simply going to be another Renly in her life; a man she was devoted to, and yet unworthy of. But now Jaime was being emotionally vulnerable towards her and gazing at her in a way that Renly, nor any other man, had ever done. And it touched her greatly, but it also alarmed her to the point of fear. This was unknown territory, after all. How could she know for certain what it was Jaime was trying to tell her with his eyes? What if she was misreading the signs? What if he just didn't see her in that way at all? It only made it harder for her to cope with, particularly now he was being kind and supportive towards her…and had said he wanted to be with her during the battle.

Brienne swallowed nervously; Jaime still hadn't taken his eyes off her. It was unnerving. She wanted so dearly to say something to express her gratitude towards him, or just how pleased she was that he was here with her, but she couldn't find the words. She was still too stunned to process what he had just said to her.

'I'd better get back,' she murmured instead, a lump in her throat as she slowly turned around.

Jaime nodded, disappointed but not altogether surprised that she hadn't said anything more, and he took a step back with a bow of his head to allow room for her to walk away. Where she was going 'back' to, he had no idea, as she was walking in the opposite direction that they'd come in, but he strongly suspected that she just needed to escape. He understood completely; he too wasn't that well equipped at dealing with emotions that were boiling all too closely to the surface.

He watched her leave with a longing expression on his face, confused by the strength and veracity of his burgeoning feelings for this extraordinary woman. Jaime knew there were more things he wanted to say to her but that he just couldn't; she was already walking away, and he couldn't stop her. He looked down at the ground, breathing deeply and lost in deep thought over how that conversation could have gone differently, and gazed back up at her tall figure striding off into the distance.

Jaime didn't expect anything to come of his feelings, of course he didn't; he knew she was too honourable and good to want a scoundrel like him, even if he had suspected her being attracted to him during her brief time staying at the Red Keep around the time of Joffrey's death. He was simply wasting time in daring to hope that Brienne could grow to care for him in the way he did her. She would most likely be repulsed if he confessed to her just how much he adored her, how his heart burned for her. She would never be able to return his affection, and he didn't blame her; he was not worthy of her. If there was any man lucky enough to capture her heart, it would need to be someone ten times the man he was. She deserved only the best. He knew that, and yet it didn't stop him pining after her. It didn't stop him hoping that her gaze and her nervousness had meant something more. It didn't stop him wondering what it could be like, if he were to tell her how he felt and if the two of them were to start something wonderful and new together.

But it was pointless for him to fantasize about such matters; after all, he saw himself as unworthy and inferior to her, in every sense, although this was a prospect that would have made the old Jaime roar with laughter. Both Jaime and Brienne knew that pledging to serve under her, let alone harbour strong romantic feelings for her, was something that Jaime would never have done or felt all those years ago when they had first met. To Jaime's shame, he could still vividly remember the disdain and revulsion he had inexplicably felt towards her on their first day together once Lady Catelyn had set him free; feelings he knew Brienne had reciprocated.

How things had changed since then.

Jaime cursed as he was thrown from the horse onto the forest ground. His body ached all over, his wrists seemingly permanently damaged from the iron manacles that had been fixed around them for over a year, and his face seared in agony from the pain of the bloody scratches and scars that had befallen him courtesy of those charming Northern men back at Robb Stark's camp. He blinked rapidly as the hood was yanked from his head, the sunlight blinding him. It took a few moments for his eyes to focus on what he was seeing, and he frowned in repulsion at his captor, half-fascinated, half-horrified.

He could hardly believe that thing was really a woman; she was a great lumbering beast, dressed in a suit of large, heavy armour. Even with him slouched on the ground, Jaime could tell she was taller than him. She was scowling down at the ground, the miserable wench she was. She looked absolutely ridiculous. The very idea that Lady Catelyn thought this woman capable of holding him hostage amused Jaime greatly.

'You're much uglier in daylight,' Jaime said, running his eyes over her face bewilderedly; he had never seen a woman like her before.

Brienne ignored him, as she always did on the regular occasions men said such scornful things. She wasn't exactly overjoyed with the new quest Lady Catelyn had set her on – being forced into one-on-one company with the disgraceful Kingslayer wasn't her idea of serving her lady the best way she could – but nevertheless she respected Catelyn's decision, even if it had been risking treason with her son. An exchange of hostages was the only way to get Lady Catelyn's daughters back, and Brienne understood how important it was to free the Stark girls from the evil clutches of House Lannister.

She cast Jaime Lannister a dark glance; even dressed in rags and covered in scars and a scruffy beard and dirty, messy hair, he was still as gloriously handsome as she had heard. It made her despise him even more. This pitiful excuse of a man, this monstrous traitor, has besmirched a role that she had long idealized. He had disgraced what it meant to be a knight, something she had always dreamed to become and yet never would be, and she knew she would never be able to see eye-to-eye with this repulsive prisoner of hers. Honour clearly meant nothing to this man.

She seized the Kingslayer roughly by the arm, as he was too weak from being chained up all this time to stand on his own, and pulled him up to his feet.

'What's your name?' Jaime asked, but still Brienne ignored him and turned him around; he went on, unperturbed. 'I'm Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock, son of Tywin.'

Brienne remained determinedly silent as she marched him on. Her hand was strong and tough as she forced him forward through the trees.

Jaime cast her an amused glance. 'A captive knight has a right to know his captor's identity,' he said indignantly.

There was a short pause.

'Brienne of Tarth,' Brienne replied reluctantly without looking at him, her voice short and cold.

Jaime looked up thoughtfully. 'Tarth, Tarth, Tarth. Crescent moons and starbursts. Lord…Selwyn Tarth,' he said, intrigued, as he turned around to look at her; she simply jabbed him in the back to make him face forward as they walked on. 'Your father. Do you have any…brothers and sisters, my lady?'

He turned back to her hopefully, but she simply pushed him forward as she scowled grumpily down at the ground. It was infuriating; had she no idea how bored he had been, imprisoned for all these months? He'd had hardly anyone to talk to the whole time. She could at least try and entertain him – although in all fairness her stupid get-up in that armour was enjoyable enough.

'It's a long way to King's Landing. Might as well get to know one another,' Jaime said slyly, his tone almost suggestive as she pushed him down the path towards the bank of a river. 'Have you known many men? I suppose not. Women? Horses?'

His teasing grin disappeared instantly as Brienne shoved him down to the ground, and he yelped out in pain. He was surprised by her strength – clearly, her looks weren't misleading. They had come to a halt beside a small boat waiting on the river bank. Brienne peered out from around the bushes cautiously to check the coast was clear, too exasperated with this irritating man to bother with what he was saying; after all, she had trained herself to tune off from everyone's insults long ago.

'I didn't mean to give offense, my lady. Forgive me,' Jaime said begrudgingly, and he meant it; he did not want to get on the wrong side of this sullen oaf if she was to be his unfortunate sole travelling companion for the next few months.

Brienne spoke before she could help herself. 'Your crimes are past forgiveness, Kingslayer,' she said in a low, spiteful voice.

She practically spat the last word, and for some reason Jaime took it to heart, more so than any of the other times he had been slapped in the face with that nickname since his capture at the Whispering Wood. This miserable cow didn't even know him. She'd only just met him properly today.

'Why do you hate me so much? Have I ever harmed you?' Jaime asked her bitterly, feeling slightly incredulous as they both watched a wagon cross the bridge on the other side of the river.

He could feel his weariness and irritation getting the better of him as Brienne's hold on him tightened uncomfortably. He'd spent over a year entire year in captivity, surrounded by enemies who openly loathed him. And he was exhausted by it.

'You've harmed others. Those you've sworn to protect,' Brienne muttered.

Jaime sighed wearily, a heavy sunken feeling in the pit of his stomach, as she reminded him of the vows he had valued so dearly on the day he had been knighted, back when he'd thought life was simple and pure. He was exasperated; this 'woman' was naïve and idealistic and judgemental as well as unsightly and irritable and just a plain embarrassment. Perfect.

'The weak…' Brienne went on, 'the innocent…-'

'Has anyone ever told you you're as boring as you are ugly?' Jaime said, his voice harsh and cutting.

Brienne grabbed him by the arms and hoisted him up, hurt. 'You will not provoke me to anger!' she snapped furiously, as she marched him away from the boat.

'I already have! Look at you!' Jaime pointed out, trying not to laugh at the stony expression on her face as she left him over in the corner so she could tend to the boat. 'You're ready to chop my head off. Do you think you could? Do you think you could beat me in a fair fight?'

'I've never seen you fight,' Brienne replied, maddened by him, as she dragged the boat across the bank to set it up.

'The answer is no. There are three men in the kingdoms who might have a chance against me. You're not one of them,' Jaime said with a chuckle, watching her derisively.

But, to his surprise, Brienne didn't seem bothered by his words. 'All my life men like you have sneered at me,' she said, pushing the boat out onto the water, 'and all my life I've been knocking men like you into the dust.'

'If you're so confident, unlock my chains – let's see what happens!' Jaime suggested tantalisingly, taking a few steps towards her.

Brienne sighed exasperatedly as she held the boat still. 'Do you take me for an idiot? In!' she ordered, pointing at the boat.

Jaime obeyed her without hesitation – she had the sort of commanding tone and presence that made him realise it would be unwise to protest, not to mention that scarily hostile expression of hers.

He sighed in disappointment as he stepped into the boat. 'I took you for a fighter,' he said contemptuously, sitting down. 'A man – pardon – woman of honour. Was I wrong?'

He tilted his head at her, fascinated, as Brienne struggled to maintain a correct balance in the boat as she too stepped in.

'You're afraid,' Jaime said.

Brienne gave him a smug look. 'Maybe one day we'll find out, Kingslayer,' she said, the briefest of fake smiles flashing on her face as she cast him a disdainful look, and with that she grabbed the oar in the boat and they set off down the river.

Jaime's lips twitched, intrigued by her confidence in her own supposed fighting abilities, but he couldn't help feeling a little bit stung at her use of his nickname again.

He had developed a way of coping with his broken reputation his entire adulthood thus far at King's Landing; he had hid behind his sarcasm, his sense of superiority, his keen talent at sneering down at all those who worshipped the concept of 'honour', his addictive thrill of being with Cersei. He was the golden lion of House Lannister, after all. What did he care what others thought? But he had relied on those things too much, and they had crumbled away since his imprisonment, leaving him with no coping mechanism. Leaving him with nothing. He had his pride, but he also had his insecurities, and he'd had no shields to hide behind since his capture at the Whispering Wood. His captivity had been the longest time he'd had to deal with the world's open, unmitigated contempt of him, and now he was slowly discovering that he could no longer keep up the pretence. He could no longer turn a deaf ear to everyone who whispered 'Kingslayer' behind his back.

And that meant he could certainly never respect or even remotely like someone who called him 'Kingslayer' to his face. Who did this brutish Brienne of Tarth even think she was anyway? She was no knight – she wasn't even close. She was a nobody. And she didn't know the facts. Well, no one did, not really. And no one ever would. Regardless, Brienne didn't know him but she was stupid enough to think she knew better. And for that, along with her comical appearance, Jaime was as repulsed by her almost as much as she was repulsed by him. Almost.

Brienne frowned darkly over at Jaime as they sailed on down the river, pleased that he had fallen into an irritable silence while his eyes flickered between watching her with a sly glare and gazing wistfully over at the trees of the forest surrounding them. She sighed, trying to conceal her bitterness at this unfortunate situation. She had been thrust into close proximity with a rude, dishonourable man who was clearly determined to incite her for the entire duration of their journey. This was going to be unbearable. But she would bear it, for Lady Catelyn. He couldn't do anything while locked in those chains, after all; only his stupid words could harm her, and she would not let them. The two of them would reach King's Landing eventually, and then she would hand him over and they would part ways, never to be forced to look upon each other's faces again, and she would be fine. All she had to do was cope with his incessant insults and arrogant quips, and then it would be over. Besides, it wouldn't take them that long to reach their destination – three months, at most. What damage could a man as pathetic as Jaime Lannister do in three months?

~ Present Day ~

Brienne was still in a daze as she walked around the grounds of the castle to test the effectiveness of the traps that had been set up. She knew the look in Jaime's eyes as he'd pledged his service to her would stay forever ingrained in her memory. His words were still ringing in her ears.

'I came to Winterfell because…'

Because what? Why hadn't he been able to finish the sentence and say what she had long felt but never dared to hope could possibly be true?

The bizarreness of their whole interaction earlier stunned her. He had told her what he had never told anyone before, not even himself; that his fighting skills were no longer the ones of legendary Ser Jaime Lannister, the golden lion. And she knew he was right. His ability as a warrior had diminished considerably and his golden hand was in no way efficient when it came down to fighting these undead creatures. The fact that he was now humble enough to admit this to her ought to have made Brienne touched, she knew that, but instead all she could feel was fear. Even the best of the fighters in their prime didn't stand much of a chance against the Army of the Dead. So how would Jaime fair in this battle?

'Are you all right, my lady?'

Brienne jumped out of her reverie; Pod had appeared around the corner, looking slightly beaten, but the way that he was holding his head proudly told Brienne that he had emerged a champion from his sword-fighting practice sessions amongst the other squires. He was giving Brienne an enquiring look, with an almost bemused smile on his face. She realised that she probably looked as astonished as she still felt, and there was no point in pretending otherwise with Pod; he could read her like a book.

'I think Jaime Lannister asked to serve under my command,' Brienne said slowly. Even saying it aloud seemed odd.

Pod's smile grew; clearly, he wasn't surprised. 'Well, he would never serve under anyone else but you,' he said fondly.

'Oh, don't be ridiculous,' Brienne muttered dismissively, turning away so he couldn't see the twitch of her lips as the two friends walked on back towards the castle courtyard.

'I'm not. I'm not blind – i-if you don't mind me saying so, my lady,' Pod added hastily, looking slightly flustered as Brienne shot him with a sharp look. 'He's ready to die with you in this battle, whenever it will be.'

'H-he's not dying,' Brienne said irritably, rolling her eyes. 'None of us are dying in the battle.'

Pod frowned. It wasn't like Brienne to talk that way. He knew then just how afraid she must be. Not particularly for her life, but more for Jaime's. He came to a halt; she stopped walking as well, confused, and he gave her a sympathetic look.

'You don't know that, my lady. I don't, and Ser Jaime certainly doesn't. But he's ready to give his life fighting for you anyway. You were right, my lady,' Pod said, and he smiled again. 'He is an honourable man, like you always told me.'

Brienne felt the warmth flood through her as she put a hand on Pod's shoulder gratefully. It meant so much to her that Pod had said that, that he could see the goodness in Jaime. But before she could say anything, there was the sound of a horn blowing from the Winterfell courtyard – visitors had arrived.

It didn't take long for Brienne to find out who the newcomers were. Or the terrible news that they brought with them.

She didn't realise she was looking for Jaime until she caught sight of him around the corner at the other side of the courtyard. The fact that the battle against the undead would now be happening in a matters of hours rather than days seemed to have knocked some perspective into her. She couldn't just run away from Jaime because she was too scared to confront her feelings. She had to stop running away. She had to embrace it instead. Or else it would be too late.

Swallowing slightly, Brienne tentatively began to walk up to Jaime, stood by the stairwell to the battlements. Just the mere sight of Jaime alone would have sent Brienne's heart racing as usual anyway, but she was perplexed to see that he was now stood with one of the smallfolk children, and (even more bizarrely) Jon Snow's direwolf, Ghost. From what Brienne could make out as she slowly approached, Ghost seemed to have given the child a fright, and Jaime was trying to comfort her. Of course he was.

'There. He's all right, really,' Jaime was saying, stroking Ghost's fur as if it was no big deal. 'He just looks a bit scary.'

'Is he going to fight when the war comes?' the little girl asked nervously.

Jaime frowned as he tilted his head thoughtfully at the direwolf. 'I-I'm not sure. Possibly.'

'Are you?'

'I am,' Jaime replied, his tone proud.

The girl looked down miserably. 'My father is too.'

'But your mother will be safe in the crypt with you, won't she? So you'll be all right. She'll protect you,' Jaime said reassuringly, bending down so that he was on her eye level.

Brienne's lips parted. Who was this man?

'Yes. But I don't want Father to die,' the little girl mumbled, and Jaime's face fell slightly.

'Of course not. I'll pray to the gods for you that he'll live,' he said in a soothing voice.

The little girl smiled. 'So will I. And I'll pray for you too.'

A lump formed in Jaime's throat as he took in the little girl's earnest expression. 'Thank you,' he murmured, his voice breaking.

He hadn't even noticed that Brienne was stood close by, watching in awe. He'd suddenly been struck with the thought of Myrcella, of those blissful moments with her before she had collapsed to her death in his arms…

'I'm glad that you're my father…'

Jaime blinked away the tears and smiled warmly at the little girl before him. How he wished he could have been a father. A good father.

Before he could say anything else, a woman who evidently was the little girl's mother came rushing up to them. She looked more horrified that her daughter was in the company of Jaime Lannister rather than a direwolf; indeed, it was with harsh mutterings about the 'Kingslayer' that she grabbed her daughter's hand and dragged her away. A sad expression on his face, Jaime gave the girl a feeble wave with his golden hand but then froze as he noticed Brienne stood there watching him. He scrambled up to his feet at once, though stumbled slightly in his haste to get up and ended up having to put his hand on Ghost to stop himself from falling. Luckily, the direwolf didn't seem to mind.

Brienne fought back a smile as he flushed red. 'Ser Jaime,' she greeted, nodding at him.

She almost wished that distrusting mother hadn't interrupted her daughter and Jaime. Brienne had never seen him like that around a child before. It made her feel things she hadn't known she was capable of feeling.

Jaime rolled his eyes at her. 'Are we really doing this?'

There was a pause as Brienne stared at him, her heart skipping a beat.

'What will it take for you to drop the bloody title?' he said exasperatedly, and Brienne sighed in relief. 'No 'Ser', please.'

'It…it's habit, I'm afraid,' Brienne admitted.

'Well it's maddening.'

Her lips twitched slightly. She took a few steps closer and they both looked down as Ghost whined for attention. Jaime began to stroke him again with his left hand.

Brienne frowned, mystified. 'I didn't know you liked direwolves.'

'I didn't like them…before,' Jaime replied, seeming surprised himself. 'But…they're just like dogs, really, aren't they? This one's very trusting of strangers.'

'Well…actually, he isn't. It normally takes him a number of days to let anyone new near him,' Brienne said, and Jaime gave her a questioning look. 'Pod looked after him while Jon Snow was away at Dragonstone, so I…know him quite well.'

'What's his name?'

'Ghost.'

'He's nice.'

Brienne leant down slightly to stroke Ghost as well, but as she did so her little finger accidentally brushed against Jaime's on the fur. She removed her hand from Ghost at once, flustered, and a slight smile formed at one end of Jaime's lips, though they both determinedly avoided each other's gaze.

Jaime then cleared his throat nervously. 'So…I was thinking perhaps tomorrow you could talk me through the battle plan, for when the time comes. And then perhaps…we could maybe…' But then he trailed off as he noticed the crestfallen expression on Brienne's face. 'What is it?'

'The time has already come,' she replied in a quiet voice, as they both straightened up. 'Jon Snow's friends from the Wall arrived just now.'

Jaime sighed heavily. 'And I'm taking it they didn't bring good news?'

Brienne nodded. 'The Last Hearth has fallen. Anyone who hasn't reached Winterfell by now are part of the Army of the Dead.'

'So…they will be here soon?'

'Before daybreak, they say.'

'Daybreak?' His voice shook slightly. Night was already beginning to fall.

Brienne hesitated as she took in his anguished expression. 'There's still time for you to leave,' she said, taking a step closer to him and lowering her voice as she glanced anxiously around the courtyard; thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed them in the corner. 'If you want to go back, if you've changed your mind, I can cover for-'

'Is that what you think of me?' Jaime interrupted in a sharp tone, frowning at her. He was hurt.

'No, it's not,' Brienne reassured him. 'I just wanted you to know the choice was there.'

'I made my choice,' Jaime said firmly. 'I don't regret coming here. I gave my word, and I'm here to fulfil it. I just…' He fell silent, unable to find the words.

'What?' Brienne prompted, and his eyes gazed into hers in dismay.

'I just thought we would have more time.'

His voice was quiet, almost soft, when he said it. It stunned Brienne; she'd never heard him speak with such tenderness, apart from perhaps the time he'd tried to comfort her following the news of Lady Catelyn's demise at the Red Wedding.

She wondered if he meant what she thought he meant. What she so dearly hoped he meant.

Brienne exhaled deeply. 'So did I.'

A short silence fell between them as they simply looked at each other, but then the spell was broken when Ghost began to howl beside them at the sight of a goat trotting past across the other side of the courtyard, and he bounded off eagerly. Brienne swallowed nervously as she looked around at the soldiers all making their final preparations.

'There's to be a meeting of the war council in an hour,' she said.

Jaime nodded heavily. 'Well let me know what they say. I'd like to be aware of what the strategy is,' he said, and Brienne frowned at him.

'You mean, you won't attend?'

Jaime gave her a sceptical look. 'They won't let me in that meeting, none of them trust me.'

'I trust you. And that means Lady Sansa does as well,' Brienne said earnestly, causing Jaime to blink rapidly. 'You're a valuable soldier, and you have a keen military mind. You'll be of good use.'

Jaime gazed at her for a moment then shook his head exasperatedly at her, a fond expression on his face. 'You've always been too kind to me, Brienne.'

'Not always,' Brienne muttered, looking away slightly; his expression was too much for her.

'No,' Jaime agreed, amused. 'Perhaps not always.'

It wasn't long after when Brienne took Jaime with her to the gathering inside the castle, led by Jon Snow. There were a few raised eyebrows when Jaime entered the room, but no one said anything about his presence there; the look on Brienne's face and the way she was stood beside him clearly told everyone that there was no point in protesting. And so there he was, Jaime Lannister helping devise battle plans with the Starks and a Targaryen and countless others, in a room he'd never have thought he would find himself in, all because of the fierce woman beside him who he knew would defend his every move. Despite the impending sense of doom, Jaime felt a real sense of achievement as they worked through the strategy together as a group. He was doing something right for once. He was doing something good, he was helping a greater cause. And it felt wonderful.

It became evident during the sombre discussion that, despite the weapons of dragonglass and Valyrian steel, and the defences they had laid, the Army of the Dead outnumbered the living too heavily for them to have a chance at winning the upcoming battle. The only hope they had was targeting the Night King; if they killed him, then his army would die with him. With some persuasion from Bran, it was agreed that Bran would act as bait in the Godswood to lure the Night King, who wished to kill him, while Jon and Daenerys planned to ambush the Night King with dragonfire when he revealed himself. Jaime, Brienne and the rest of the soldiers would be left to try and hold off the White Walkers from entering the castle grounds for as long as they could.

Jaime realised that this was essentially a suicide mission, but with a glance at the tall woman beside him, her face unafraid and determined, he knew that he would do whatever it took to make sure Brienne got through this battle alive. She had to make it. He couldn't bear it if she didn't survive. His priority was her as much as it was defending the castle. Perhaps even more so.

Whatever happens, Brienne must live, Jaime thought desperately. She must live.