Based on events during Episode 2 of GoT Season 8

(Also includes flashback from Episode 10 of GoT Season 3)

The war council meeting disassembled awkwardly with the meek suggestion that everyone should 'get some rest'. But neither Jaime nor Brienne felt like they could rest. The White Walkers were almost upon them. This time tomorrow, they might all be dead. How could they rest now, knowing that might be the case? They couldn't waste any more time.

As they walked together down the dark castle corridor, Jaime took a deep breath. 'I'm quite hungry, aren't you?' he asked Brienne.

Brienne slowed her walking pace as she averted her gaze, frowning curiously. 'I suppose so, yes,' she replied unsurely.

'Shall we…would you like to…?' But Jaime trailed off nervously, and began fidgeting on the spot.

Brienne stared at him. It took her a while to fully comprehend what he was trying to ask.

'They're serving soup outside in the courtyard,' she suggested eventually, flustered.

'Soup. Perfect,' Jaime said at once, relieved. 'That is, if you don't mind me accompanying you?'

'N-no, I don't mind,' Brienne said, gazing at him in bewilderment.

The awkward pair made their way out of the castle and into the courtyard, where people were lining up for food. The sky was a pitch black now, the air bitterly cold against their cheeks. Jaime shivered as they waited to be served; he wasn't used to these piercing temperatures. He hated it.

Once they had collected their bowls of soup, Jaime and Brienne made their way over to the corner of the courtyard, where they sat on some steps, away from the prying eyes and the dirty looks and the not-so-subtle insults being muttered about Jaime. They were comfortably silent for a while as they ate, simply glad to be in each other's company on what they both knew would turn out to be the longest, and most probably the last, night of their lives.

'You know, this soup's not half bad,' Jaime said, taking another mouthful. 'Better than that shit they fed us when we were held up with Locke, do you remember?'

Brienne raised her eyebrows. 'It's hard to forget. I'm surprised they didn't make us eat actual shit, to be honest,' she muttered.

'Ah, you're right there. Weren't we the lucky ones?' he said dryly, and he sighed wistfully as he looked at her. 'Thank the gods you were there with me. As sorry as I am that you were.'

Brienne looked at him. There was a tender look in his eyes, an almost fond smile half-formed on his lips. It was a look that almost made the rest of the courtyard and the people around them disappear.

'I wouldn't have survived then without you, you know. It's funny that, isn't it?' Jaime said.

He wasn't sure why he said that; it wasn't funny at all…it was just easier to make light of it, for both their sakes. They were both so bad at dealing with emotions, after all. He truly believed what he said, though. No one else would have looked after him during those dark days of his life the way she did. Not even Cersei.

'I'm not the one who jumped into a bear pit unarmed and with one hand,' Brienne said, and Jaime looked at her in surprise; they exchanged an amused look before turning back to their soup.

As Jaime scooped up the remaining soup with his spoon, he cleared his throat nervously. 'I owe you – well, many things – but firstly I owe you an apology, for the way I spoke to you at the Dragonpit.'

Brienne looked mortified. 'You really don't need to-'

'But I do,' Jaime insisted, and he sighed sadly.

Brienne shook her head at him in amazement. 'What's happened to you?' she said, flummoxed.

Jaime frowned, confused. 'What do you mean?'

'Why are you being so…nice?' She said the word as if she was almost disgusted by it.

'I've always been nice,' Jaime said indignantly, but he faltered when he caught sight of the unimpressed scowl that he loved so much on Brienne's face, and he grimaced. 'Deep down.'

Brienne fought back a smile. Something that sounded almost like a chuckle escaped her lips as she turned away. He had never seen her laugh before, not ever, despite his many efforts to try and amuse her during their time together while she had stayed at King's Landing. They had very rarely been in situations like this when they were carefree and alone and simply talking with no spies watching them. Not that they were completely carefree now; this was simply the calm before the storm.

Jaime chuckled. 'You don't know what to make of me, do you?'

'No I don't,' Brienne admitted, and she glanced at him tentatively as she put down her empty soup bowl. 'I still can't believe you're actually here.'

'Well I am. Just in time, as well. And that's good…isn't it?' Jaime said in a hopeful tone, watching her closely.

'Yes, it is. I…never thought I'd see you again,' Brienne murmured, staring at her hands as she tried to keep her breathing steady.

'Well I'm not going anywhere,' Jaime said softly, and their eyes met. 'You're stuck with me, I'm afraid.'

A silence fell between them, a half-smile on both their lips. Brienne's heart was racing at his tender gaze.

She swallowed. 'Have you thought about afterwards?' she asked him in a somewhat shaky voice, glancing around at the courtyard.

Jaime pulled a face. 'I don't want to tempt fate. Besides, I don't have high hopes for my chances in this battle,' he said, in a voice that oddly sounded very similar to the old sly Jaime of a few years past, and Brienne frowned.

'You mustn't think that way.'

'I'm only being realistic, as any good soldier should be. I have faith that you'll survive though,' Jaime said, nudging her arm with his own; Brienne was taken aback by the casual touch.

She raised her eyebrows at him sceptically. 'You do?'

'Of course. You're the best fighter I've ever known,' Jaime said without hesitation, and Brienne's lips parted. 'And you have the best Valyrian steel sword there is. Whoever gave that to you must have known what he was doing.'

Brienne tilted her head at him. Arrogant prick.

She wanted to come up with some witty response but they both knew that wasn't her, and they both smiled slightly because of it. Jaime looked up then as he noticed Podrick wandering about with his sword at the other side of the courtyard, looking almost as scared as he felt.

'You should go,' Jaime murmured reluctantly, and he gestured to Pod. 'This is your squire's first proper battle, and I reckon he'll be needing a bit of a pep talk round about now.'

Brienne looked doubtful. 'Motivational speaking's not really my thing.'

'No, but you've done something right with him so far. He's been trained well,' Jaime said, and he looked almost smug. 'Told you he was a good lad.'

Brienne followed his gaze to watch Pod and to her embarrassment found that her eyes had begun to water. She had been in denial for too long of the danger that Pod would be in during this battle. Her Pod. He had been her loyal companion for years now, always there to assist her and comfort her, always supporting her no matter what. He knew her better than almost anyone. Aside from Jaime, of course.

'I love him like a son. Like he's my own,' Brienne found herself saying, and she touched Jaime's arm briefly. 'Thank you for that.'

Jaime gazed at her, stunned, and nodded. He hadn't realised before just how much she cared for Pod; after all, neither he nor Brienne had ever thought she'd let herself open up and get attached to someone like that. She had always maintained such a cold-hearted, tough persona during their earlier days together, but of course that had all been a mask she had worn to protect herself, something Jaime could relate to only too well.

He suddenly found himself desperately concerned for Pod's welfare in this upcoming battle as well. He didn't want Brienne to experience the pain of having someone so close to you wrenched from your life like that, not in such a brutal way, and not for someone so young and innocent and loyal as Pod. Jaime sighed in resignation as he looked over at the young man looking anxiously about the courtyard. He had no choice; he needed to look out for Pod as well tonight. The three of them would have to stay close. He would make sure of that.

Brienne then got up to her feet; Jaime did the same. 'You should find your brother,' she said, giving him a sorrowful look, and when he tilted his head at her questioningly, she sighed. 'We could die tonight. Be with your family.'

Shaken by her words, Jaime could do nothing more than nod at her. Suddenly the affectionate intimacy of their meal and conversation just now seemed to have evaporated into the cold night air, and all that was left between them was the abrupt comprehension of the fact that the Great War was upon them. The dead were coming, the end was nigh. And they had a duty to fulfil.

Brienne nodded back at him stiffly, and, exchanging the briefest of sympathetic looks, filled with understanding and regret and longing, the two of them then turned and walked away from one another, Brienne towards her terrified squire, and Jaime towards the castle to locate his brother, who was no doubt already on the way to becoming very drunk. He felt more churned up with every step he took in the opposite direction to Brienne, her words ringing in his ears.

'We could die tonight. Be with your family.'

It was only when he'd entered the castle that Jaime realised why it felt so wrong to walk away from Brienne – he wanted her to be his family.

The thought of finally being reunited with his family was all that motivated Jaime Lannister to walk through the large gates into King's Landing, the city he had once known so well and yet now seemed so strange and foreign to him. He was exhausted after weeks of riding south, so it was with an air of trepidation that Jaime slowly, tiredly stepped forward into the city, looking around with a strange feeling bubbling inside him.

Jaime came to a halt as he surveyed his surroundings. How long had it been since he'd set foot in theses streets? A year and a half? Was that all? It felt like decades. So much had changed – not the city, he gathered from a quick glance, but himself. The journey he had been on to get back here…its impact was only just beginning to hit him. It was overwhelming.

'Out of the way,' came a voice.

Perplexed, Jaime looked around to see a short, grubby-looking man, pulling a cart and trying to move past him. Jaime paused for a moment, stunned; no doubt the man would soon realise his mistake once he recognised the King's uncle.

But he did not – instead, the man looked Jaime up and down, his eyes taking in his filthy rags and dirty, greasy long hair, and prominent stump, and raised his eyebrows dismissively at him.

'Step aside, country boy,' he said bluntly, budging past Jaime with his cart and forcing him to stumble backwards. 'People are working here.'

Jaime stared after him, his mouth open in shock, and his heart sank slightly. No civilian of King's Landing had ever talked to him in such a way before. Was he really that unrecognisable? Jaime looked down at the ground, ashamed and humiliated. He wasn't sure if he wanted to explore this new, grim phase of his life. Part of him wondered if it was too late to turn back. He could feel Brienne's eyes on him; he was somewhat confident now that she would accompany him if he were to run in the other direction and asked her to. But they both had an oath – she needed to exchange him for the Stark girls. And then that would be it. His time with his grumpy captor over and done with. Jaime wasn't sure how that made him feel. He wasn't sure how he was feeling about any of it.

Jaime looked over at Brienne, needing reassurance. Her face, normally so reserved or irritable, was instead full of sympathy. Her features had softened and her eyes burned with pity. She looked younger somehow; kinder, even. The deep, bloody scars from where the bear had clawed at her neck were still prominently visible underneath her clothes. It made Jaime think of all it had cost them both to get here. He hoped it would be worth it.

Brienne gave him a small, sad smile. She wished he could see that he was not the man he had started out as – or at least, not the man he had been when they had first met. He had become more open-hearted, particularly over the past few weeks after he had rescued her from Harrenhal, and for Brienne it was this, more so than his drastically different appearance, that made him so unrecognisable from the golden lion he had been when he'd last resided within these splendid city walls.

Her expression flooded Jaime with a great rush of affection for Brienne. 'I'm here. I'm with you. You'll be all right,' her gaze told him. He was touched by how she had grown to care. She was able to recognise the humanity left in him, when no one else in the world could.

Slightly reassured, Jaime averted his gaze and looked to the direction of the Red Keep. On the bright side, at least 'country boy' made a nice change from 'Kingslayer'. Knowing he could put this off no longer, Jaime then set off along the street. Brienne watched him warily as she and Qyburn followed, though she kept a respectful distance from him as she let him walk far ahead; after all, he was returning home after all this time – he needed a moment on his own to take it all in.

Jaime was filled with both dread and relief as they approached the entrance to the great looming castle. It took the guards an embarrassingly long time to believe that this was really Jaime Lannister, but eventually they were let through. While Qyburn kept busy looking around the interior of the Red Keep in fascination, Brienne kept a close eye on Jaime and went up to him at once, her eyes filled with concern, as Jaime came to a standstill, his eyes lowered to the floor as he exhaled deeply. Being back in this building…it was too much for him. It was all too much.

He looked up and saw Brienne stood right at his side, tilting her head worriedly at him, and he sighed. 'I'm not sure I'm ready to see her,' he mumbled, averting his gaze.

'You'll never feel ready,' Brienne murmured, her voice sympathetic and unusually soft.

'But look at me,' Jaime said indignantly, gesturing his stump and the rags he wore. 'She can't see me like this.'

Brienne just shook her head at him imploringly. 'She's your sister.'

Jaime sighed. Brienne didn't understand; she didn't know Cersei at all. Not like he knew her.

'So how will this work? Would you like to march me into the hall in chains?' Jaime asked dryly. 'You are technically still my captor and I your hostage, after all.'

Brienne gave him a disapproving look. 'I think circumstances changed when Bolton charged his men with seeing you here,' she replied. 'But I do still expect an exchange. Lady Catelyn's daughters need to be released.'

'I'll make sure it's the first matter I discuss with Cersei,' Jaime said firmly, his voice breaking slightly on the last word.

There was a pause as Jaime kept staring down at the floor, the fingers in his left hand twitching agitatedly. Brienne hadn't realised until now just how nervous he had been about the day of his return…the day he had been anticipating for so long and yet just left him confused and out-of-sorts.

'You should go and see her on your own first. You don't want me there. And I don't think I need to be,' Brienne said gently; after all, she knew now that he would keep his word.

Jaime swallowed slightly, moved. 'I'm grateful for your trust,' he said, and they nodded at each other as he backed away slightly. 'I'm not sure how long I'll be, but…wait for me, and feel free to explore the castle. I'll come and find you once I've spoken with Cersei.'

'Very good, Ser Jaime. And…good luck.'

All he could manage was a nervous nod before he'd turned and made his way unsteadily up the grand set of steps to the tower where he knew Cersei would be.

The next few hours passed in a strange blur for Jaime. He met Cersei, Tywin, Tyrion and many others, and it was almost like an out-of-body experience for him. He felt so disconnected from it all, like a stranger watching from the sidelines. He was shocked that his family – or at least, Cersei and his father, and even this very building that he had once called home – were not how he had remembered them at all.

Somehow Jaime felt even more broken now that he had reunited with Cersei than he had before. She hadn't been pleased or overjoyed to see him. On the contrary, she had cast his stump a look of utmost horror and disgust before demanding to know how he had let such a thing happen to him and why it had taken so long for him to come back.

And then he was told about the events of the Red Wedding.

The moment he heard of Lady Catelyn's tragically brutal fate, Jaime found himself refusing his offers for multiple baths and trips to the maester and barber, and instead asking for the whereabouts of Brienne. He knew she needed to be told at once, and he had an urge to be there for her when she found out…not that he would be much source of comfort.

He finally located her out in the gardens, sat with her back turned in a small sheltered clearing, her face turned towards the ocean. Despite the heat outside, she still had her cloak wrapped firmly around her.

'Brienne…' Jaime began.

It was the first time he had addressed her without her title, but he felt that, given the circumstances, he no longer cared about appropriate boundaries. Not after everything they had been through together. If they could share a bath together, they had certainly reached a first-name-only basis.

Brienne slowly turned around from her seat and faced him. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face streaked with tears. She looked so desperately miserable; it made Jaime feel sick with guilt and sorrow.

'You've heard,' he said heavily.

She nodded, her bottom lip trembling, and she turned away back to face the sea, not wanting him to see her so upset. It was humiliating.

Jaime tentatively walked over to her. He hadn't known just how much she cared for Lady Catelyn. He had never known anyone take their oath so seriously. It only made him admire her more. He was alarmed to find himself wishing he could do something, anything, to ease her distress.

He sat down beside her on the stone bench, and sighed deeply. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to do with his hand. There was a long silence as they both sat there, listening to the sound of the waves below. It would have been so peaceful and nice for the two of them to spend some relaxing time together like this, away from any soldiers and free from their former open hostility towards each other. Alas, the circumstances were too sombre for any remote enjoyment to come out of it.

'Did you know?' Brienne mumbled eventually, sniffing slightly as she stared down at her lap. 'When we were at Harrenhal, did you know then, what Roose Bolton was planning to do?'

'No I didn't. I'll be honest with you, I suspected he was toying with…something. But never this,' Jaime murmured, his voice shaking slightly, and without thinking he put his hand over Brienne's. 'I'm truly sorry-'

'How can you be sorry?' Brienne interrupted sharply, jerking her hand away from his and giving him an incredulous look. 'Your enemy has been slaughtered. The Starks are gone. Your family won, you should be celebrating. I doubt you've ever been sorry for anything in your life.'

Jaime was stung by her comments. 'I never wanted it to happen like this. The Starks didn't deserve to die that way, it was…barbaric. It was cruel.'

'Since when have you cared about that?' Brienne snapped. 'It's the Lannister house way.'

'Well it's no longer my way.'

'Those are just words,' Brienne muttered, looking away from him.

She sighed. She knew she was being harsh. After what Jaime had told her in the bathhouse at Harrenhal, she knew he cared. And she knew that Jaime himself had had no part in this. She was more angry with herself than with him. She had been so naïve to believe in justice and fairness in the world, even though Jaime had warned her that the world did not work in such a way. And now she knew.

'I'd swear to make those bastards pay for what they did to Lady Catelyn and her son, but that would mean trying to hurt your entire family,' Brienne said bitterly.

It only just hit her then that, despite everything he had suffered at the hands of Locke, despite the mutilation and constant humiliation…Jaime had never once voiced seeking revenge after they had been captured. He had been perfectly happy to move on from that dark chapter in his life the moment he'd rescued her from Harrenhal. But Brienne couldn't move on so easily. That just wasn't her.

Jaime nodded sympathetically. 'I don't doubt that you could do it.'

'Well I do. Not because of my physical abilities,' Brienne said, and she forced herself to look up at him, though there was contempt in her eyes as she did so. 'Because of you.'

He didn't ask what she meant. He didn't think he needed to. It was bizarre and unexpected and not what they had wanted to happen in the slightest, but they had both grown fond of each other during the last few weeks on their journey back from Harrenhal…perhaps even from the moment Jaime had lost his hand defending her. It was strange how they had touched each other's mind and heart in such a significant way.

'Well I'm sorry for the inconvenience my presence has on your quest for revenge,' he said sarcastically, and Brienne glared at him.

'You really are an arrogant bastard, aren't you?' she muttered, and the slight half-smile on his lips made her roll her eyes irritably. 'I do hate you sometimes, you know.'

'Likewise. Oh, try to cheer up, I'm already missing that fair smile of yours,' Jaime muttered, and Brienne scowled at him incredulously. 'I'm jesting.'

'How appropriate.'

He sighed heavily. 'Forgive me, I…I've never been that gifted at…consoling,' he admitted, and Brienne shuffled uncomfortably on the bench. 'Look, things could be a lot worse. You and I could have been killed many times since Lady Catelyn released me, but you got me here…alive. You succeeded in your mission. You did what she asked.'

'You got yourself back here simply because you knew what to say to Roose Bolton. I only made matters worse for you,' Brienne said waspishly. 'It's my fault you lost your sword hand, and it's my fault you almost got killed by that bear.'

Jaime groaned irritably. 'You really are the most miserable woman I've ever met.'

'I'm sorry to disappoint.'

'I'm curious, have you ever smiled before? Or laughed? Do you even know how to?' Jaime asked, fascinated. 'Or…had a drink, relaxed a while, had some fun?'

'Fun? You think a woman like me can relax and laugh and have fun?' Brienne said scornfully, casting him a distasteful look. 'You have no idea how cruel life can be sometimes.'

Jaime looked back and forth between her and his stump, incredulous. 'Do you even hear yourself when you talk?'

Brienne looked flustered. 'I didn't mean – forgive me, Ser Jaime. That was insensitive.'

'No…I'm the one who's insensitive,' Jaime grumbled, sighing. 'You lost the person you were pledged to, of course you must have time to grieve.'

Brienne looked at him, surprised.

'But you shouldn't feel at all…lost, you know. You could return to Tarth, if you want to see your father and your people. Or you're welcome to stay here in King's Landing – at the Red Keep, even, if you would like,' Jaime suggested tentatively, astonishing Brienne. 'I wouldn't be able to get you into the City Watch, I'm afraid those laws wouldn't allow it, but…I could find you a place at court. I could find you a husband.'

Brienne frowned at him, as if offended. 'I don't want a husband.'

'What, not ever?' Jaime asked, flummoxed.

'No.'

'Why not? I'm sure there's…a man out there…big enough who-'

'I don't want to grow attached to anyone,' Brienne interrupted firmly, her eyes welling up again, and she turned away to look out at the sea, too ashamed to meet his gaze. 'After Renly died…I swore to myself that I wouldn't let myself feel that way again. When you love someone, you have something to lose.'

She never wanted to feel that pain again. Never.

A silence fell between them as Brienne breathed deeply and tried to concentrate on the peaceful sound of the waves. She didn't care that she was humiliating herself in front of Jaime. He had bared his soul to her in that bath. There were no secrets between them now, even if they both insisted on keeping up the pretence that they were merely newly-formed allies.

'Besides, no man would ever love me or want to marry me,' Brienne muttered. 'Look at me. I'm a complete joke.'

Jaime hesitated. 'You're not to me,' he mumbled.

Brienne turned around and stared at him.

'Not anymore. Sort of,' Jaime added impatiently, and he gave her an irritated look, as if she had annoyed him greatly somehow.

The talk of marriage left him feeling uneasy and even partly embarrassed. Everyone they had come across on their journey from the Riverlands back to King's Landing, be it civilian or soldier, had assumed that Brienne was Jaime's mistress. He wasn't an idiot; he'd heard the rumours of them being lovers – and, quite frankly, he wasn't surprised, after the loud jeering and teasing from Locke's men while they'd kept Jaime and Brienne hostage. If either himself or Brienne were ever to marry, honour demanded that they really ought to marry each other. After all, spending time alone with a man in the woods for a long duration of time was enough to ruin a noble woman, let alone sharing a bath. To Jaime's alarm, the thought didn't repulse him half as much as it would have done a few months ago.

Feeling rather flustered all of a sudden, Jaime then got up to his feet. 'I'll see to it that you are given good clothing, and I'll request a bedchamber with a nice view for you-'

'You expect me to live here?' Brienne said disdainfully. 'In the home of the people responsible for the slaughter of Lady Catelyn?'

Jaime looked exasperated. 'I expect you to get the rest you need before rushing into any decision on what you do next. I…' he said, but he trailed off and sighed. 'Qyburn and Maester Pycelle will both want you to receive proper treatment for those wounds, so you'll need to stay here for a few weeks anyway.'

But he didn't just want her to stay to receive proper rest and treatment. He wanted her to stay because he didn't want to face this challenge of finding his new place as a one-handed knight at King's Landing without her there. He had become so used to her company and her reassuring presence that he hadn't realised until now just how much he had taken it for granted. He had very few people left in this world willing or able to be there for him in the way that Brienne had.

'So does this mean I'm your prisoner now?' Brienne asked grumpily.

Jaime frowned. 'You're my guest,' he said patiently. 'And I'd be honoured for you to accept my invitation for you to stay at the Red Keep, for as long as you would like.'

'I'm grateful for your hospitality, Ser Jaime, I am. I just don't think I'd be as welcome here if other members of your family had a say in the matter,' Brienne said, avoiding his eye contact; they both knew who she meant by that.

'Well they don't,' Jaime said firmly. 'Not in this case.'

Brienne scoffed. 'I thought you'd be relieved to see the back of me once I brought you here.'

Jaime blinked rapidly. 'So did I,' he admitted.

They looked at each other, both their expressions weary and confused. They had never experienced such an antagonistic yet affectionate relationship before, and it was very bewildering for both of them.

'Is it true that Arya Stark hasn't been sighted in King's Landing? Since her father's execution?' Brienne asked, dismayed.

'Yes. But her sister Sansa is still here. She's alive and well,' Jaime replied. 'She's…a Lannister now. Married to my brother.'

This didn't seem to make Brienne feel any better. 'That poor girl. She has no mother because of me,' she murmured, her voice shaking as tears began to leak out of her eyes again.

She was in turmoil. Horrified, Jaime sat back down beside her, though at a complete loss with what to do.

'There's nothing you could have done. Nothing,' he said to her urgently. 'You were away on Lady Catelyn's orders, you didn't know. It was a massacre – if you'd been there, you would have been overthrown and killed too. You did nothing wrong.'

Brienne just shook her head at him, her chin wobbling slightly. 'But I still failed her. I've tried and tried for so long to be…the closest thing to a knight a woman can be. All this time people have laughed at me for doing it, and…well, maybe they were right all along,' she murmured, and Jaime's heart sank. 'I've been useless. I've been…terrible. I couldn't protect them, Renly or Lady Catelyn. I've failed everyone I've served.'

A tear trickled down her cheek and she turned away, wishing she could just sink through the ground. She didn't want anyone to see her like this, but particularly not Jaime. The last thing she wanted him to think of her was as some pathetic, weeping woman.

Feeling desperately sorry for her, Jaime opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. He moved his hand but was worried she would reject his touch again. There was nothing he could do to help her in her grief.

'Oh, just go away,' Brienne muttered shortly, wiping her eyes. 'Don't you have more important things to be getting on with? Why are you even out here anyway?'

'Because I wanted to see you. I want to make sure you're all right,' Jaime replied, almost irritably, and he raised his eyebrows at her when she frowned at him, perplexed. 'What, you thought I was just going to never talk to you again once we arrived here?'

Brienne turned away from him. 'Well I want you to leave,' she mumbled, feeling her cheeks getting slightly warm.

'I'm not going anywhere,' Jaime said quietly.

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. 'You're so bloody annoying!' she snapped, and Jaime nodded, fighting back a smile.

'I know. I know.'

He put a hand on her shoulder; he expected her to shrug it off, but she didn't; instead she closed her eyes at his touch, and her bottom lip trembled as she removed her hands from her face. 'Brienne, you haven't failed. There's still Lady Catelyn's eldest daughter, like I said. And she's here, in the city.'

She realised that he was trying to help her see purpose. He was trying to make her see that she had a reason to go on. And he was right – the Stark girls still needed protecting. She sat up ever so slightly as she exhaled deeply, realising that the tears had stopped coming now.

'Stay here,' Jaime urged, squeezing her shoulder. 'Even if just for a little while.'

There was a slight pause. Brienne inclined her head towards him and felt her expression soften and her shoulders untense at the comforting yet firm look on his face. She knew from that look that she wouldn't need to worry anymore about what was going to happen to her now. Her former prisoner was going to make sure she was well looked after. It didn't even bother her anymore how odd it was that this was what it had come to between them.

'All right,' Brienne said begrudgingly, wiping her nose. 'If you think it best.'

'Good,' Jaime said, and he gave her shoulder a final pat before letting go and rising to his feet. 'I'll send someone to find you and take you to your new room when you're ready. Once you've had time to get rested and settled, we'll talk more.'

Brienne nodded, her eyes still rather watery as she realised that the handsome, arrogant golden lion of House Lannister had prioritised finding her to console her over getting changed out of those hideous rags and washing himself. Attempting a small smile at her, Jaime then bowed his head and left.

As Brienne watched Jaime walk away and leave the gardens, her lips slightly parted, she found herself shaken by how Jaime had made her realise that the news of Lady Catelyn's death had only reaffirmed her oath. She wouldn't fail again. She would make sure of it. She would try her hardest to uphold her promise to Lady Catelyn. And she would do all she could to get Jaime to do the same as well.

~ Present Day ~

Jaime stared into the flames, still chilled despite sat so close to the fireplace of the castle's great hall, and sighed as he took another sip of the wine that he and his brother had been slowly consuming. The long night was upon them, and all they could do now was wait for the threat to arrive. Tyrion sat beside him, his expression glum as he pondered on the meaning of life.

'I wish Father were here,' Tyrion said thoughtfully, and Jaime frowned at him, perplexed; after all, Tyrion was the one who had killed their father in the first place. 'I would love to see the look on his face when he realizes his two sons are about to die defending Winterfell.'

There was a pause as Jaime considered his words for a moment, frozen in horror at the thought. He could picture Tywin Lannister's expression before his very eyes.

Amused, Jaime snorted. 'That would be something to see.'

While the wind howled outside, Tyrion leaned around in his chair and looked out at the great hall, which had been emptied of all its tables and the benches pushed to the side. 'I remember the first time we were here, the first time I saw this hall,' he said wistfully, and Jaime sighed as his brother turned to face him. 'You were a golden lion. I was a drunken whoremonger. It was all so simple.'

Jaime cast him a sceptical glance and shook his head. 'It wasn't so simple,' he said, looking ashamed and almost disgusted. 'I was sleeping with my sister and you had one friend in the world…who was sleeping with his sister.'

'I was speaking in relative terms,' Tyrion mumbled.

'Do you miss it?' Jaime asked.

'Of course I miss it.'

Jaime raised his eyebrows; the complete opposite was true for him. 'Well, my golden-lion days are done, but whoremongering is still an option for you.'

But Tyrion shook his head. 'It's not. Things would be easier if it were,' he said miserably, sighing, and he raised his goblet to Jaime. 'The perils of self-betterment.'

Jaime raised his goblet too; it had only just touched his lips when the door to the great hall opened at the far end of the room. Surprised, Jaime paused and looked around in his seat. His heartrate lurched unsteadily forwards at the sight of the tall familiar figure striding purposefully into the hall. Nearly choking on his drink, he instantly leapt up to his feet.

'My lady,' Jaime said welcomingly, a slight smile on his face.

Tyrion noted the hopeful gaze in his flustered brother's eyes, not to mention the way he had jumped up from his chair like a lovestruck fool, but he dismissed it with a mere playful flicker of his eyebrows. He was intrigued. He had never once seen his brother remotely interested in a woman who wasn't that cruel, beguiling sister of theirs.

'Oh,' Brienne said, surprised, as Pod followed her into the hall, 'we didn't mean to interrupt. We were just looking for somewhere warm to-'

'-To contemplate your imminent death,' Tyrion finished for her, getting up to his feet. 'You've come to the right place.'

Jaime couldn't stop staring at Brienne. He'd been enjoying these past few hours alone with his brother, but was now so grateful for the additional company. He'd been trying not to think about her while sat in this hall, but now she was here and, despite their impending doom, everything suddenly seemed momentarily at ease.

'You want some of this piss?' Tyrion offered the newcomers, indicating his goblet as he wandered over to the table where the wine stood. 'It's not bad. It's not good either.'

'Thank you, milord,' Pod said at once, moving over to join Tyrion.

'I don't think that's wise,' Brienne said reprovingly, and Pod stopped at once; Jaime's lips twitched. 'The battle might start at any moment.'

There was an awkward pause. Pod looked desperate. Brienne exchanged a sideways glance with Jaime; he tilted his head at her, amused.

Brienne looked back at Pod. 'Half a cup,' she said sternly.

Smirking, Jaime then eagerly moved over to the side of the hall to fetch a chair for her.

'And you?' Tyrion asked as he poured Pod a generous amount into a new goblet.

'No, thank you. I should try and get some sleep,' Brienne replied, and to her delight Jaime then spoke up in protest.

'You really think any of us are going to sleep tonight?' he pointed out sceptically, and he put the chair down close beside his with a warm gesture. 'Join us.'

Brienne stared at him, shaken by his soft eyes and polite smile. She glanced back at the chair he had brought out for her, trying not to let the nerves overcome her. She couldn't pretend that she didn't know the real reason she had insisted on searching for a better room to rest, making poor Pod traipse after her around the castle from room to room while she looked for the 'ideal setting to prepare'. She knew deep down that she had really just been searching for Jaime's whereabouts. Even after she'd ended their intimate conversation together in the courtyard and sent him away to be with his brother…she knew she had made a mistake. She wanted to be here with him. And he was evidently happy to see her here. So why decline?

Brienne gave him a hesitant nod. 'All right,' she replied, and she raised her eyebrows over at Tyrion. 'Just a bit.'

She shyly returned Jaime's smile as she walked over towards the fireplace; smitten, he held the chair out for her, chivalrously keeping his hand on the back until she had sat down. It still felt so strange, that after all these years they were together again, finally on the same side. It was a pleasant sort of strange though.

As Jaime walked over to his own chair and Tyrion handed over a full goblet to Brienne with a sly smirk, there came the sound of footsteps as Ser Davos emerged from the other door.

'Well, what do we have here?' he said, and Jaime frowned to himself slightly; he had been somewhat hoping for it to remain just the small group of them, so he'd have more time to dedicate to solely Brienne during their dark final hours.

'Ser Davos, join us,' Tyrion greeted, holding out his goblet.

'No, not for me, thanks. Came here for this,' Davos said, and he moved to stand in front of the fireplace with a sigh. 'I figured I could wait to die freezing my balls off out there…or wait to die nice and warm in here.'

Brienne heard the heavy footsteps and smelt the unpleasant odour before he had even stood beside her, and then suddenly there he was, looming above her with a keen expression on his hairy face – Tormund Giantsbane. She barely repressed a shudder.

It had taken Brienne a considerable amount of time to agree with Pod's teasing that Tormund was making romantic advances towards her. She supposed she ought to find it flattering, seeming as no man had ever been interested in her that way before. But instead it infuriated her; not because he was a Wildling, just because he was an extremely annoying man who insisted on pestering her, no matter how much she tried to get away. But there was no avoiding him from here. Irritably, she looked up to face him.

'It could be our last night in this world, you know,' Tormund said to her in his deep, gruff voice, his expression repulsively eager.

Jaime, who had sat down beside Brienne, frowned down at his lap as he slowly brought his goblet up to his lips. In the short pause that followed, he glanced awkwardly over at Brienne. He found himself remembering the look this Tormund fellow had given Brienne during the war council meeting earlier. 'We're all going to die. But at least we'll die together'. He remembered Brienne's look of disgust at his words. The same way she used to look at Jaime, before their captivity with Locke. Jaime felt his lips twitch.

'Yes, well, I'm glad you're here,' Brienne replied reluctantly, and Tormund's face lit up in delight; alarmed, she began to stammer, unaware of Jaime's eyes looking her up and down in intrigue beside her. 'Here f-fighting with us. Glad you…survived Eastwatch,' she clarified hastily.

Jaime tilted his head as he watched her closely, trying to hide his amusement at how flustered she was. He couldn't keep his eyes off her; he was too interested trying to gauge her reaction to what was happening. He wondered if she had ever encountered such explicit advances from a man before. Most likely not.

'Would you like a drink?' Tyrion offered Tormund over from the corner.

'Brought my own,' Tormund replied, gesturing the horn in his hands.

Embarrassed, Brienne turned to face Jaime, almost wordlessly asking him for help in how to deal with this man stood beside her. A slight smile on his face, Jaime looked up at Tormund, unimpressed, before meeting Brienne's gaze. After exchanging the briefest of glances, they both turned back to look up at Tormund, their heads moving in synchronization.

And that was all it took for Tormund to stand up a little straighter and puff his chest out. Frowning, he glanced suspiciously back and forth between Brienne and Jaime.

'They call you 'King Killer',' Tormund said to Jaime, eyeing his competition appraisingly.

Jaime hesitated. 'I'm sure…someone does,' he replied doubtfully, glancing back at Brienne before frowning back up at Tormund.

'They call me 'Giantsbane',' Tormund said proudly, also glancing briefly at Brienne before tilting his head threateningly at Jaime. 'Want to know why?'

Brienne watched Jaime as he exhaled deeply, slightly taken aback by this strange man stood before him; was this actually supposed to be an intimidation ploy? He exchanged a wary glance with Tyrion as Tormund grabbed a nearby chair and drew it up so he could sit directly opposite Jaime. He sat down and leaned forward, evidently preparing for an impressive tale. Jaime eyed him apprehensively.

'I killed a giant when I was 10,' Tormund began dramatically.

Not knowing where this was going, Brienne turned slowly to face Jaime; their eyes met. They both knew this story was for Brienne's benefit. It was all to impress her. Jaime wondered for a moment whether this horrible churned-up feeling in his stomach was jealousy. He had never experienced it before, not really. But something in Brienne's distasteful expression told him that he needn't be worried.

'Then I climbed right into bed with his wife,' Tormund went on, and Jaime frowned at him, bemused, before glancing quickly back at Brienne.

'When she woke up…you know what she did?' Tormund asked, and Jaime tilted his head questioningly at him, completely bewildered. 'Suckled me at her teat for three months. Thought I was her baby.'

It was then when Jaime was reassured that he had nothing to feel threatened by at all. After all, he knew. He knew that Brienne wasn't interested in Tormund so-called Giantsbane, because he knew her, better than most – and also because this man was clearly slightly mad. But that didn't stop him from watching Brienne carefully, scrutinizing every change in her body language and facial expression to judge her reaction to Tormund's rambling. It was also extremely entertaining.

'That's how I got so strong,' Tormund grunted proudly, as Brienne glanced over at Jaime, half-perplexed, half-horrified. 'Giant's milk.'

And then Tormund began to drink from the horn he had brought into the hall – only he didn't appear able to drink like an ordinary person, for he began gulping noisily as he swallowed his drink down, remnants of the liquid gushing out from the horn onto his beard and clothes.

Jaime watched him for a moment as if he were a mildly interesting jester before looking back at Brienne. It took everything he had in him not to burst out laughing at her expression; she was watching Tormund with utter repulsion on her face. As Tormund grunted his appreciation and kept gulping down his drink in the messiest fashion possible, Jaime turned to pull a bemused face at Tyrion.

Davos looked stunned. 'Maybe I will have that drink,' he said, sighing as he walked away from the fireplace to help himself to some wine.

The moment Tormund had finished drinking, he dropped his horn to the stone floor with a clatter. He turned inquisitively to Jaime and Brienne, as if expecting a round of applause. They both exchanged perplexed glances.

'W-well…thank you for that, Tormund,' Jaime said, sounding slightly stunned. 'What a touching story.'

'Yes. Very moving,' Brienne agreed, also dazed, and she flushed at the appalled look on Tormund's face, and hastily added; 'Impressive, even.'

Tormund raised his eyebrows challengingly at Jaime, clearly satisfied by her assessment, before turning to talk to Tyrion.

Brienne averted her gaze for a while but felt her cheeks begin to colour as she felt Jaime's eyes on her yet again. She slowly looked up; he had an amused smirk on his face. She felt her lips twitch in response. The sensation was unfamiliar to her. It made her think of the first time Jaime had made her smile, years ago. It had been too long since she'd smiled.

'What shall we drink to…Lady Brienne?' Jaime then asked in an almost flirtatious tone, as he leaned across his chair towards her.

Neither of them noticed as Tormund jerked his head sharply towards them both, eyes wide with rage and alarm; they were too preoccupied with each other. And poor Tormund realised in that moment that he never really stood a chance.

Brienne hesitated as she thought carefully. 'To fighting for the North. To honour,' she said, her voice proud as she gazed pointedly at him.

Jaime's expression faltered slightly, deeply moved as he realised what she meant, and then raised his goblet and clinked it against Brienne's before they both took a large sip. Tormund was right: this could be their last night in this world. They could well die. But Jaime and Brienne had one thought to comfort them in facing this terrifying truth – at least they would die together.