Based on events during Episode 3 of GoT Season 8

(Also includes flashbacks from Episode 7 of GoT Season 7

and Episode 10 of GoT Season 2)

The yard seemed surprisingly calm as Jaime made his way out of the castle to locate his brother. Women and children were being directed to the crypts, while anxious soldiers were marching on towards the fields surrounding the castle. The night was deadly silent, with only the sounds of nervous breathing and armour clanking filling the frosty air.

Jaime felt his hand twitch worriedly as he thought back to the panicked look in Brienne's eyes when she's turned to face him after the horn blasts.

'Pod! Sansa-!' she'd begun anxiously.

'Go!' Jaime had urged. 'Find them – I'll meet you out there.'

'What about you?' she'd asked, her tone desperate.

'I need to see Tyrion. I'll join you and the rest once I've…said goodbye,' Jaime had replied, his voice breaking on the last word.

Brienne had looked at him beseechingly for a moment, her chin wobbling in fear, before giving a sympathetic nod.

'I'll see you soon,' he'd reassured her, putting a hand on her shoulder. 'Go, find Pod and find Sansa, see that she's safe.'

And with that she had given his arm a grateful squeeze and then hurtled off down the corridor to find her beloved lady and squire.

Jaime concentrated on exhaling deeply and evenly as he walked on through the yard, looking around hopefully for some sign of his small brother. He couldn't go out to battle without seeing him for one last time. At least he could be reassured that Tyrion would be safe in the crypts. He almost wished that Brienne could be there with him, but that would have been folly – Brienne's place was at the front of the battlefield, in command. Those soldiers on the left flank wouldn't last long if she wasn't there taking charge and leading them into the fight.

He would not let the terror of his predicament consume him, Jaime decided. He had made his choice. He was honouring his pledge. He was helping defend the living. And, most importantly, he was fighting alongside Brienne of Tarth.

'You don't wish you were in King's Landing?'

She had sounded so doubtful, so uncertain, so wary when she had asked him that, as if scared he would say yes. Clearly she didn't fully understand the turmoil in his mind that had been ongoing since the moment she had departed King's Landing with her new armour and sword to find Sansa so long ago.

In truth, Jaime hadn't wished to be in King's Landing for years. Ever since he had returned from his capture after the Battle of the Whispering Wood, the city that he had once called home had felt foreign to him. The only thing that had kept him there all this time had been his undying devotion to his monstrous sister. But, at last, he had broken free of that.

He had not one single regret for what he had done. Indeed, the moment Jaime had decided to come to Winterfell had been arguably the wisest decision he had made in years. He may well die at the hands of an animated corpse tonight…but at least he knew he had done the right thing.

'I don't believe you.'

As he spoke those words, Jaime knew it was one of the most pivotal moments in his life. One that would change the course of his future. One that would lead him down a greater path. One that should have happened a very long time ago, if only he hadn't been too blind to see it.

'I always knew you were the stupidest Lannister,' Cersei had spat scornfully, merely minutes earlier. 'The Starks and Targaryens have united against us, and you want to fight alongside them? Are you a traitor or an idiot?'

Jaime had been horrified, but mainly perplexed, by Cersei's attitude. He would have perhaps doubted himself if Brienne's fierce words from earlier hadn't been ringing insistently in his ears.

'This goes beyond houses and honour and oaths.'

Oh, Brienne. What a complication her presence here had been.

He had done nothing more than stare at her for the duration of the summit at the Dragonpit, a million questions burning in his eyes, hardly daring to believe that she was really there. Ever since the notorious Battle of the Bastards that had taken place in the North, Jaime had been plagued with guilt and worry. He had let her sail away the last time he'd seen her at Riverrun…what if he'd let her go to her death? If he'd gone after her and captured her, as he had been duty-bound to do, she could have been safe. But no, he'd let her head back to Winterfell, where thousands of people then later died at the ruthless battle in its grounds. He had prayed for her survival once he'd heard what had happened – and Jaime very rarely prayed, not when the gods had been so unkind to him in this life – and assumed (or rather desperately hoped) that Brienne hadn't perished at the battle because of the fierce, strong warrior he knew her to be. But still, he'd spent months despairing. He'd even been tempted to send a raven to Winterfell, to ask after Brienne's welfare, but knew he couldn't – Cersei would have found out. She had spies everywhere, after all.

So it had been an overwhelming relief to see Brienne stood there under the canopy at the Dragonpit; it had been his first confirmation that he hadn't sent Brienne to her death by letting her escape Riverrun.

She's alive, he had thought ecstatically, she's all right.

And yet he had also been filled with anger and fear at the mere sight of her; what was she doing here in this dangerous city where Cersei ruled? Cersei, who loathed Brienne as the one woman who intimidated her.

Still, Jaime knew he couldn't let Cersei's hatred of Brienne deter him now. He needed to persuade his bitter, twisted sister. He needed to make her see reason. And if Brienne's words could shake him enough to make him do just that, surely he must try and do the same for Cersei.

'This isn't about noble houses, this is about the living and the dead!' Jaime insisted.

But Jaime might as well have been speaking to a brick wall for all the good it did him. She heard none of Brienne's wisdom, none of her logic, none of her fierceness. Cersei was blinded by her own toxic need for the Iron Throne. She couldn't see beyond that silly chair.

As Cersei continued to talk nonsensically and Jaime tried urgently to implore her to change her mind, he could feel suddenly that something had changed within him. Perhaps he had changed a long time ago, but something was different today. Brienne's presence at the Dragonpit today had awoken that change inside him. It had reminded him of the person she had helped him become…and of the other person that Cersei depended on, the person he no longer wanted to be.

'I pledged to ride north. I intend to honor that pledge,' Jaime said firmly.

'And that will be treason.'

Jaime took in the scornful, hateful expression on Cersei's face as she glared at him, and realised in that moment that she had become a poison in his life, one he had grown so used to that he'd considered it normal – right, even. He'd once loved the rush of it, the addiction, the thrill, but now he was seeing her true colours. She didn't care about any of it – the oaths, the people, the lives of all the innocents who would join the Army of the Dead unless they honoured their pledge and helped. And he'd played a part in her destructive path. He'd been by her side these past few years, blindly supporting her and never questioning every immoral decision she made.

But no more.

When Cersei gave Mountain the signal to draw his sword, Jaime felt himself break inside. He couldn't believe what she was doing…that she was threatening to have him executed right here on the spot.

'Are you going to order him to kill me?' he asked, his tone sceptical and baffled; he had never once thought that she'd actually meant it…and yet there Clegane was, his sword out as he blocked Jaime's exit, waiting for Cersei's final command.

Jaime felt himself sink deeper into a pit of despair, trying to blink away tears of betrayal as he turned in disbelief to his sister, unable to look her properly in the eyes anymore. Without their children alive, Cersei was unhinged, a monster, focussed on nothing but power. He no longer recognised the person she had become. He loved her, he did and – as much as he loathed himself for it – he probably always would, no matter what, but she was not the Cersei he knew. And she was breaking his heart, and condemning the lives of everyone he had sacrificed his reputation and oath to protect.

'Fuck loyalty,' Brienne had said.

And that was exactly what he was going to do. He was done with playing the rules of Cersei's stupid game.

Jaime cast Cersei a look of utmost disdain as he gave her a slight shake of his head, suddenly no longer afraid to meet her furious glare. 'I don't believe you,' he said.

And with that he turned, stepped around the Mountain and walked away. He heard Cersei's footsteps as she began to follow him, but then she stopped, and remained silent. No doubt she couldn't believe what he was doing; part of Jaime couldn't believe it either. But for the first time in a very long while, Jaime didn't feel uncomfortable or ashamed or nauseous by his set course of action. This felt right. It even felt a little triumphant.

To his bemusement, Jaime felt himself begin to smile as he marched hurriedly up to his quarters and recalled Cersei's smug words. 'I told you no one walks away from me.' Oh, how wrong she had been.

Once in his quarters, he began to panic slightly as he removed his Lannister armour and collected his belongings, but none of Cersei's guards came after him.

She must have known, Jaime thought. She must have known I meant it. I'm leaving for good, and there's no point in trying to stop me.

He changed into plain garb and found an old travelling cloak, along with the necessities for his ride north. There was no point in delaying his travels any longer; besides, it wasn't like he was welcome here in the city anymore. He had betrayed his queen, and had a pledge to uphold. All that remained to him was to go to the one place he could think of: Winterfell. It was miles and miles away, and would take him at least a months' ride – assuming he wouldn't come across any trouble on the road – but he would willingly travel that length and risk that danger as long as he could arrive at the one place he needed to be: the place where Brienne of Tarth resided. He only hoped he would be there in time before the Army of the Dead arrived.

No one stopped him as he rode out of the Red Keep grounds and left through the gates of King's Landing. No one followed as he rode up the hillside to leave the capital for good and join the kingsroad to head up north. The city was silent, cold and lonely as he rode further and further away; all Jaime could hear was a light chilly breeze, the distant waves of the sea, and Brienne's words from earlier ringing in his ears.

He came to a halt on top of the hill, struck by how miserable and grey it had suddenly become, and covered up his golden hand, the mark that made him a Lannister, with a black glove. That was when he noticed a a speck of snow land on it. The Starks had been right: winter was here.

As Jaime looked around in awe at the light snowflakes beginning to fall all around him, he then turned to take one last look at the city he doubted he would ever see again. The Red Keep looked so small. From this distance, the fear and hold of his sister could no longer control him. He was breaking free at last, and it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders as he came to this realisation. For the first time in his life since giving Brienne Oathkeeper, he was finally being true to himself.

He didn't know where this path would take him. Yes, the kingsroad would eventually reach Winterfell, but what then? What would he do? What would he say? Would he be wanted, or turned away? Would he die defending his enemies against the Army of the Dead, or at the hands of Daenerys Targaryen and her fearful dragons? All he knew was that, uncertain as his fate was that lay ahead of him, Brienne would be on the other side. He could rely on that at least.

And so Jaime Lannister then turned his back on King's Landing and rode away on his horse, down the dusty path towards the kingsroad while the snow continued to fall.

I'm free, he thought blissfully.

He never looked back.

~ Present Day ~

Jaime found Tyrion stood under an archway of the castle in the courtyard, watching with a forlorn expression as everyone finished making their preparations for tonight's battle. He looked almost timid as he watched helplessly from the shadows, although his fearful expression changed to that of relief as he caught side of Jaime crossing over the courtyard to him as fast as his armour would allow.

'I'm surprised to see you here,' Tyrion noted. 'I thought you would be with Ser Brienne and her force on the battlefield by now.'

'I wanted to see you before I went,' Jaime replied.

'Not for an emotional farewell, I hope,' Tyrion said with raised eyebrows, and Jaime faltered.

'W-well I…'

But Tyrion was smiling. 'A joke. I was coming to find you as well, as a matter of fact. I wasn't sure where you'd got to after you hurried off after our new knight,' he said, and a playful glint flickered momentarily in his eyes. 'That was an honourable thing you did back there, for Ser Brienne. You broke the rules in doing it, you know.'

'To hell with the rules,' Jaime said dismissively. 'Man or woman, it doesn't matter. Anyone should be able to be a knight if they deserve it.'

'Spoken like a true…' – Tyrion trailed off, not knowing how to finish his sentence, and chuckled in bemusement – '…well, not a Lannister, that's for certain.'

The two brothers exchanged a smile, though their faces quickly fell as they turned to watch the remaining children being ushered hurriedly down to the crypts, and their fathers bidding them tearful farewells before marching on to join the rest of the armies lining up to defend the castles' walls. A solemn silence fell between them both.

'So…what is one supposed to say to one's brother when facing likely imminent death?' Tyrion asked, unable to look up at Jaime.

Jaime exhaled deeply; this wasn't going to be easy. 'I wish I knew,' he said heavily, and he then turned to face Tyrion. 'Look, Tyrion, if I don't make it-'

'No, Jaime, don't-'

'If I don't make it,' Jaime insisted, and he sighed. 'I know you're not on Cersei's side anymore. I'm not either. Maybe you're right, maybe the Targaryen girl would make a better ruler. But please, whatever happens…don't let Daenerys execute her. Try to dissuade her. Imprison Cersei, banish her to somewhere far away, I don't care…just don't kill her. For the sake of the baby, if not for her.'

'I'll do my best,' Tyrion promised solemnly. 'If it's any comfort, I don't want her dead either. She may be a monster, but she's still our sister. And we'll always love her.'

Jaime nodded grimly. Unfortunately we will. 'The curse of being a Lannister, I'm afraid,' he said. 'And…one more thing…for if things should go south for me during this battle.'

'Name it,' Tyrion said, trying but failing to stop his voice from wavering.

'If Daenerys does take the Iron Throne,' Jaime said sombrely, trying not to dwell on this concept, 'I urge your first piece of counsel to concern the appointment of the Lady Commander of her Queensguard.'

Tyrion frowned and tilted his head at him. 'Lady Commander?'

'You don't know Brienne – Ser Brienne – like I do, but trust me when I say she would be the best person for the role. Far better than I ever was, and any other knight I've known,' Jaime replied, and Tyrion nodded, his expression softening. 'I would like my old quarters and belongings to be given to her as well, should Brienne want the position. This is all hypothetical, of course…assuming I won't live through to see the end of the war.'

'And assuming I will?' Tyrion said sceptically.

Jaime smirked. 'You've escaped death numerous times, little brother. I'm sure you'll be fine,' he said airily, but then a crease appeared in his forehead as he gazed earnestly down at his brother. 'Just…promise me you'll take care of Brienne. And Podrick. Please.'

Tyrion nodded slowly as he stared up at his beseeching brother. 'Who is she to you?' he asked, frowning up at him dazedly. 'Really?'

There was a pause. Jaime was lost for words. There was no simple response to such a complex question.

He sighed, though a slight smile flickered briefly on his lips. 'I wish I could answer, but there's not enough time for that,' he said, looking around anxiously.

'No, indeed there's not,' Tyrion agreed, understanding. 'The dead are almost upon us. And you're sure you still want to fight for Winterfell? On the frontlines?'

Jaime nodded firmly. 'I am.'

'Then…farewell, brother. And good luck,' Tyrion said, grasping Jaime's hand and clutching it tightly. 'I know you'll be all right.'

'No, you don't,' Jaime muttered, giving his hand a squeeze before letting go. 'You haven't seen me fight properly since I lost my sword hand.'

'No. But I've seen Ser Brienne training these past few days,' Tyrion said, his lips twitching. 'She's as good a fighter as you ever were, back in your glory days.'

Jaime smiled proudly. 'I know.'

She was even better than that. In Jaime's mind, Brienne was the best fighter in all of Westeros.

'She'll make sure you'll be all right,' Tyrion said confidently. 'I'm certain of it.'

Jaime rolled his eyes, trying not to appear too pleased at Tyrion's assessment. 'You have too much faith in her affections for me.'

'Do I? Really?' Tyrion asked in a mocking tone, raising his eyebrows.

Jaime opened his mouth but realised he had nothing to say. His eyes then fell on the remaining soldiers hurrying people outside and shouting commands.

A lump rose in his throat. 'Go on,' Jaime said urgently to Tyrion. 'You need to go to the crypts.'

'I don't want to hide down there like a coward,' Tyrion protested, scowling.

'Your Queen commanded it. That's not cowardice,' Jaime reassured him, and before he knew what was happening he had leant down to embrace his brother in a fierce hug. 'I'll see you on the other side.'

'I truly hope so,' Tyrion said, trying to keep his voice under control as he buried his head in Jaime's shoulder and gripped him back tightly.

Jaime then let go and leaned away, though he was unable to meet his brother's bloodshot gaze. 'Goodbye, Tyrion,' he said, and with that he turned and left the yard.

He was still blinking away his tears as he hurried through the crowd of soldiers and knights and smallfolk assembling on the field. It had been tough saying goodbye to Tyrion, knowing that it was most likely going to be their last conversation, but necessary. He had set his affairs in order. All he had to do now was fight as best he could against an army of dead men while protecting the woman he loved. How hard could that be?

The soldiers were lining up in their positions as Jaime joined the force on the left flank; he pushed his way through them all, knowing their commander would be right at the front. Even in the blackness of the night, he could make out her tall impressive figure in the distance, her soft, curly tufts of blonde hair blowing in the wind. The sight of her filled him with relief and a strange sense of comfort, despite their present situation. When he finally reached her, having budged a few other knights out of his way, she was busy speaking in a low, firm voice to Pod beside her. The panic that had flickered across her face earlier in the castle at the sound of the horn blasts had now disappeared; Brienne's face was determined, the look in her eyes fierce. If she was as afraid as Jaime and Pod and the rest of these men felt, she hid it extremely well.

When Brienne turned to see Jaime suddenly standing there at her other side, her expression faltered and she looked at him in confusion, half-relieved and half-horrified. 'What are you doing?' she demanded abruptly.

Jaime glanced around awkwardly; he'd been hoping, after their last encounter, that she might have greeted him with more tenderness than hostility. 'I'm…waiting for the dead to arrive. I was told to expect them here,' he said, trying to keep the mood as light-hearted as possible.

'No, I mean…what are you doing stood here?' Brienne asked exasperatedly. 'You shouldn't be at the front-'

'Well thank you for your faith in my fighting abilities!' Jaime snapped, trying not to be too insulted. 'Weren't you the one who said to me back inside that I was still a skilled warrior?'

'Yes and I meant it,' Brienne said earnestly, sounding irritated, 'but you said yourself you're not as good as you once were, you should be further behind-'

'No, I can't do that,' Jaime interrupted firmly, while Pod watched the arguing pair nervously. 'Unless you're commanding me to do so, in which case I'll be forced to obey but I can't move to the back-'

'Why not?' Brienne said impatiently, perplexed. 'No one would think any less of you, after what you risked to come all this way, so why-?'

'I'm not leaving you!'

The words came flying out of Jaime's mouth before he had time to consider them. He'd spoken loud enough for what felt like the entire army to hear; the stunned silence that followed certainly seemed like it had. Pod took a few awkward steps to the side, his eyes wide. Brienne simply stared at Jaime with her mouth open, shocked. He exhaled deeply but did not look away; life was too short for him to be embarrassed now.

'That's why,' Jaime said calmly, his gaze flickering back and forth between her startled eyes and her armour. 'So I'd very much like to stay, right here. If you wouldn't mind.'

There was a slight pause as a gust of frosty wind blew their hair back. Eventually, Brienne found it in her to speak.

'I don't need your protection, Jaime,' she said, her voice much softer and less annoyed than before. 'I have Pod. I have Oathkeeper.'

Jaime tilted his head at her, his expression tender. 'I know that. You are more than capable of fending for yourself. But I also know that, all golden-lion ego aside, I'm still unlikely to make it through this battle alive,' he said heavily, 'and I don't want to spend my last hours next to men I neither know nor care about.'

There was another silence as Brienne gazed back at him, her jaw set, her eyes wide. He wanted to be here on the frontlines with her because he cared about her. But didn't he understand that she wanted him to be way behind at the back of the force because she cared about him? It was no use arguing, however; even if she was technically his superior on this battlefield, she saw him as her equal, and she knew how stubborn he was. He wouldn't be sent to the back without putting up a fight, and Brienne refused to fight with Jaime Lannister anymore.

Eventually, she gave him a reluctant nod. 'Stay close to me,' she said in a quiet yet firm voice.

Jaime nodded gratefully. Always.

They were silent for a while the rest of the left flank force lined up and joined them to wait. Jaime asked Pod how he was doing, and the two men offered each other words of encouragement and determination while Brienne watched them both in pleasant surprise. Although there was much to fear, Brienne didn't feel that afraid anymore. With Jaime and Pod stood either side of her, her heart felt full. They were both here, and in the shared glances the three of them exchanged, she knew they would all try to keep each other safe. And she knew that Jaime would remain close.

He would never desert her. Never.

Brienne was determined to stay focussed and keep her eyes fixed firmly on the black empty space in front of them so that she would be ready for the first sign of the White Walkers, but Jaime had other plans. He had never been one for coping well with tense silences, as Brienne well remembered from their early days travelling back to King's Landing together years ago, and she rolled her eyes in amusement as, sure enough, Jaime cleared his throat and began to speak.

'Ahh…who would have thought it? The two of us, fighting side by side,' he said wistfully, his sly tone almost that of the old Jaime she had first met. 'We fought each other once.'

'Yes,' Brienne replied, her tone almost smug. 'I beat you.'

'You did not-'

She silenced him with a look.

A hint of a smile flickered on Jaime's face. 'Very well. You beat me.'

'How much did it hurt to say that?' Brienne asked, her lips twitching, as she kept her eyes fixed firmly ahead of them.

'In truth, not much at all,' Jaime admitted. 'You were a worthy opponent.'

Brienne raised an eyebrow. 'That's certainly not what you thought of me at the time, as I recall.'

'No. I did admire you in some ways though,' Jaime said amicably, and Brienne scoffed.

'Piss off.'

'I did!' Jaime insisted. 'I remember the first time I saw you use a sword.'

At this, Brienne looked around at him, intrigued. 'You do?'

'Hmm,' he replied with a slight smile. 'Very well, in fact. I was impressed.'

'Oh, shut up, you weren't-'

But Jaime cut over her bemusedly. 'Do you really think I'd admit to that if I didn't mean it?' he pointed out. 'I didn't think I'd have to remind you who it was that just bloody knighted you earlier tonight.'

Red in the face, Brienne opened her mouth to retort back but before she could say anything they were interrupted by an angry shout from behind them.

'Will you two shut the fuck up!'

Startled, both Brienne and Jaime turned around to face the grumpy knight who had snapped at them. He looked both terrified and agitated. Brienne glanced awkwardly at Pod; he grimaced at her.

'My apologies, ser,' Brienne murmured humbly to the knight; she'd forgotten just how irritating her and Jaime's bickering could be to others present.

Exchanging a half-wary half-amused glance, she and Jaime turned back to face the open battlefield as the wind and frost only continued to grow stronger in the wintery night air. The two remained diligently silent, their lips twitching slightly as they found themselves lost in distant memories of a time long past, a time when only hatred and irritation had bloomed between them…at least until the moment Brienne had drawn out her sword to defend Jaime for the very first time.

Jaime was bored. Desperately bored.

At first he had enjoyed being out on the river, even though it was his captor he was forced to be with. After over a year locked up in a cell covered in mud and faeces and surrounded by an army of Northern men who wanted him dead, he finally felt at peace out here, drifting along down the calm waters, with the sunlight and the trees and the birds. He could even overlook the scowling face of the horrid woman sat opposite him as she rowed. Brienne of Tarth didn't talk unless he was fed up enough to provoke her into snapping back at him with some sour retort, and that had suited him just fine initially. But now he was so infuriated by her tedious company that he found himself wishing that he had a somewhat better captor, one at least more inclined to make conversation.

He tried to amuse himself by goading her into letting her guard down, but the way he antagonised his captor only led to more snappy dismissive insults from Brienne, who was plainly annoyed that Jaime was incapable of keeping quiet. Jaime was fascinated yet also very irritated as the two of them continued to bicker while they rowed along down the river; he had never met anyone like her before. He usually had a talent for reading people and spotting their weaknesses, but no matter how hard he tried he just could not get through to this bizarre creature. She didn't even have a sense of humour. He'd found this bemusing at first, but it had been a few days since they had left Robb Stark's camp now, and her serious nature was becoming exasperatingly dull. The sooner he broke free of this grumpy woman's clutches and found the quickest way back to King's Landing, the better. He needed to be back with Cersei. He needed to be back home.

'You really are no fun, are you?' Jaime was saying as he readjusted his position on the skiff, trying to get more comfortable; they hadn't stopped in many hours; and lounging lazily on the boat in chains was making his back ache worse than ever.

'Did you expect me to be?' Brienne muttered, not looking at him as she concentrated on the river ahead.

'I hoped there might be more to you, I admit. But you really are just one big ugly woman with no personality, aren't you?' Jaime said, chuckling.

Brienne barely flinched, though her grand gripped the oar more tightly. 'If you say so.'

'I say so because you've done absolutely nothing to prove me otherwise since your beloved Lady Stark released us the other day,' Jaime said frustratedly. 'Tell me more about you! I can't bear it silent, it's maddening.'

'Why should I waste my breath talking to the likes of you any more than I have to?' Brienne snarled, casting him a dark glance.

At this, Jaime groaned loudly. 'Oh, here we go again,' he said exasperatedly, glaring at her. 'Back to despising me for no good reason-'

'I have plenty of good reason,' Brienne interrupted sharply, 'as does everyone who has ever heard of you in the Seven Kingdoms.'

Jaime raised his eyebrows at her in mock offence. 'Well. That's quite harsh for a lady to say.'

'That's where you've misjudged me, Kingslayer,' Brienne said, 'I'm no lady.'

'Believe me, I did not misjudge that. I already knew that from the moment I laid eyes on you, it was quite a ghastly shock,' Jaime said, and Brienne turned away from him, her nostrils flaring angrily, as she continued to row. 'Forgive me if I offend you, my lady, but you seem unbothered about courtesies yourself where I'm concerned, so I only mean to reciprocate your manners.'

'Don't worry,' Brienne muttered dryly. 'I couldn't care less what you say or think about me.'

'Perhaps you should. Then people might like you more if you care. Though I doubt you've had many people like you over the years,' Jaime said, watching her thoughtfully. 'Must be lonely, to be such a dull joke of a woman. If you stopped being in such a foul mood all the time, you might make a friend one of these days.'

It was amusing, to watch her glower and wince at every insult he threw her way. Jaime found it strangely satisfying.

'Though let me guess – you're not one for making friends, are you?' he went on. 'You prefer your own company. Ahh, solitude and misery…what loyal companions they must be.'

'Do you ever shut up?' Brienne snapped.

'Afraid not. Not when I have someone to talk to after all this time. Or rather, talk at. Gods give me strength, you won't give me anything to go on, will you?' Jaime said exasperatedly.

'I'm not here to entertain you, Kingslayer-'

'Well thank the gods for that, you'd do a horrendous job of it-'

'If you're bored, talk to the trees or the river,' Brienne suggested bluntly, and Jaime's lips twitched.

'You intend to make a madman of me while we journey together? In all fairness, you've already driven me halfway there,' Jaime muttered. 'And what about you? Surely you can't mean for us to travel for months without speaking a word to one another. Don't you long for human conversation? To feel normal for once? If someone like you can ever feel normal.'

Brienne frowned at him as she steered the skiff slightly to the left, where a rocky shore awaited them. 'You don't know a thing about me. Stop acting like you do.'

'I could say the exact same thing to you. Perhaps we should get to know each other before passing judgements. How does that sound?' Jaime suggested.

'It sounds terrible.'

'I couldn't agree more, but how else shall we pass the time?' Jaime pointed out, but then he smirked playfully. 'I could think of a few things, actually.'

Brienne rolled her eyes as she rowed them nearer to the shore. 'Vulgarity and insults won't get you anywhere with me, Kingslayer.'

'I'm very curious to know what will,' he said slyly, but then he winced as the skiff came to an abrupt halt.

Brienne forced him out of the boat; Jaime stumbled slightly, his legs still incredibly weak from a lack of walking during his imprisonment with the Starks, but then managed to straighten himself up before he could embarrass himself in front of her.

'Stay,' Brienne ordered him, as she walked back to bring the skiff onto shore.

Jaime frowned. 'I'm not a dog, my lady.'

'If only you were,' Brienne muttered under her breath, dragging the skiff up onto the rocks.

Jaime looked around at their surroundings briefly; a path lay ahead of them, leading them into a forest. He wasn't sure whereabouts they were, but was confident that Brienne had good knowledge of the land, and she was smart enough to avoid the kingsroad where they would be seen. As much as he wished to be rid of her, he could at least admit that she was doing her job well. So far, at least.

'You're a virgin, I take it?' Jaime asked.

Brienne was mortified by his impertinence, but ignored him. 'Walk,' she snapped, turning back to him and shoving him roughly forwards.

Amused, Jaime glanced back awkwardly at her as he walked ahead. What a stupid question. Of course she's a virgin. She's a highborn and hideous to look at, how could she not be?

'Childhood must have been awful for you,' Jaime said as they walked, his tone almost sympathetic. 'Were you a…foot taller than all the boys?'

Brienne didn't answer, and kept her head down glumly as she marched on after him, her bulky amour clunking loudly as she went. Why must he make him relive memories she had so determinedly repressed? Why must he talk to her about her life at all? She didn't want to think about her past, not now, not ever, and especially not to this revolting man.

'They laughed at you, called you names?' Jaime went on, wincing slightly as he stepped up onto the path. 'Some boys like a challenge. One or two must have tried to get inside Big Brienne.'

'One or two tried,' Brienne muttered without thinking as she followed, tugging on his rope to make sure he was securely fastened.

'Ahh!' Jaime said gleefully, and he chuckled slightly as he turned back to face her, delighted that she was finally engaging; Brienne shoved him ahead irritably. 'But you fought them off!'

He loved to antagonise her so. Only a few days in, and it was fascinating to see her react so differently to any other woman he had met before. She didn't seem to care one bit just how unusual she was.

'But maybe you wished one of them could…overpower you, fling you down, tear off your clothes,' Jaime said teasingly, glancing back at her; she was avoiding his eye contact, focussing instead on the path ahead of them. 'But none of them were strong enough.'

There was a slight pause as they walked on.

'I'm strong enough,' Jaime added tantalisingly.

But Brienne paid no attention to the suggestive flicker of his eyebrows and wicked grin. 'Not interested,' she replied, her eyes wide as they stared up at a tree that awaited them.

Jaime seemed almost offended. 'Of course you are!' he insisted. 'You'd love to know what it feels like to be a woman.'

He turned eagerly back to face her, intrigued, but Brienne's face had gone ghostly pale, her stubborn expression disappeared. His face faltered, wondering what had got her so spooked, and he turned to follow her gaze. His lips parted in understanding: the bodies of three girls were hanging from a tree branch up ahead.

'Ah. "They lay with lions",' Jaime said, reading from the wooden sign attached to their bodies as he and Brienne slowly approached. 'Tavern girls, I'd say. Probably served my father's soldiers. Maybe one of them gave up a kiss and a feel…that's how they earned this. The glorious work of the Northern freedom fighters. Must make you proud to serve the Starks.'

'I don't serve the Starks,' Brienne replied shortly, her tone and expression that of disgust as she stared at the girls' bodies. 'I serve Lady Catelyn.'

Jaime tilted his head. 'Tell yourself that tonight when they swing in your dreams.'

His words angered her; her jaw jutting out furiously, Brienne shoved him to the side of the leaf-covered path, and marched him over to a nearby tree.

'What are you doing?' Jaime asked as she slammed him roughly against the trunk.

'Burying them,' Brienne replied gruffly, as she began to tie him to the tree.

'We shouldn't stay here, we should get back on the river,' Jaime protested, wincing as she secured him, but Brienne ignored him and left him there as she walked back over to the dead girls. 'I think these women would understand if-'

'I don't care what you think,' Brienne cut over him coldly.

She marched over to the ropes that kept the bodies swinging up there from the branch, but before she even had time to withdraw her sword and cut them down, she heard the sound of distant voices. She looked up, alarmed; three men were approaching from the other end of the path.

Panic flooded Jaime's face for a moment, until he realised that this was a golden opportunity. He leant forward from the tree trunk, struggling against his bounds, and cast Brienne a desperate look.

'Untie me. Now!' he said urgently; no matter her size and her attire, there was no way this beastly, awkward, naïve woman could be that good of a fighter.

But Brienne ignored him and instead stepped forward, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword; after all, there was no point in trying to hide from these men. The three strangers were Northern, by the sounds of their accents, and were arguing about a dagger one of them had lost. Their bickering came to an abrupt halt the moment they caught sight of Brienne, and Jaime tied up to the tree beside her.

'Whoa! What's your business here?' one of them demanded, as they all looked over Brienne and Jaime suspiciously.

'Travelling a prisoner,' Brienne replied.

The man instantly burst out laughing; the other two followed shortly after. 'You're a woman?' he said incredulously, smacking his companion on the chest.

'A woman!'

'Well, fuck me!'

Brienne simply stared at the ground and suffered in silence as the three men continued to laugh at her. Jaime watched her from where he was bound against the tree, and a strange feeling flooded through him – was it sympathy? He could tell, despite her empty expression, that she was hurting.

Brienne took a deep breath. 'If you've quite finished up-' she began bravely, but she broke off as the men roared into yet more uncontrollable laughter.

Her bottom lip trembled slightly. Brienne was used to being seen as a joke to everyone around her, but it still pained her every time something like this happened. She wished the Kingslayer wasn't here to witness this. No doubt he would tease her for it relentlessly afterwards.

Jaime looked down, ashamed; why couldn't these rude bastards just let her talk?

'All my life, men like you have sneered at me,' she had said to him. Well, she wasn't wrong.

For the past few days, Jaime had tried to get into Brienne's head by teasing her about being a woman, but now that he could see just how she was treated regularly by other men, it filled him with guilt. He kept his head down; he could mock her, but he couldn't stand to see others mocking her.

Having had enough, Brienne then strode over to Jaime. 'All right, we'll be going,' she said, moving to release his bounds.

'Whoa. Whoa!' the first man then said; he and his companions had suddenly managed to bring their laughter under control, and they walked over to her and Jaime. 'Who do you fight for?'

'The Starks,' Brienne replied, as she began to untie Jaime from the tree; Jaime kept his face directed away from them in the hope that they wouldn't recognise him.

'What did he do?' another man asked, pointing at Jaime.

Jaime looked up at Brienne, trying to work out what she was planning. His eyes bored into hers, and Jaime realised then that it was the first time their eyes had made contact without them quickly looking away from each other in disgust. Her eyes were blue, he noticed. Piercingly blue.

'Apparently eatin' is now a crime,' Jaime said, putting on a gruff, Northern accent. 'Who knew-?'

'No, stealing is a crime,' Brienne cut over him sharply, as she continued to untie him.

'But it's not a crime to starve?' Jaime argued back incredulously. 'That's justice for yeh.'

He kept his head bent low, and refrained from smiling. He was impressed that the two of them could improvise with each other after only a few days, and very little contact on Brienne's end. Was this what one would call…bonding? Jaime made a mental note to tease her about this fact later on, should they make it through these Northern men. Hopefully they would either see sense to let them pass, or Brienne would make the right decision to cut him loose so that he could defend them both.

'Where are you taking him?' one of the men asked.

'To Riverrun,' Brienne replied.

'Why Riverrun?'

'Steal from the Tullys, it's their dungeons you rot in,' Brienne said.

Jaime remained silent. She was good at concocting lies on the spot, this one.

'Why not kill him?'

'For stealing a pig?!' Jaime blurted out incredulously.

'I don't give the orders,' Brienne answered exasperatedly. 'He must be important to someone.'

'Sending him with you? How important could he be?' the first man asked sceptically, a cruel smile on his face.

Brienne turned to face him, trying hard to keep her usual scowl off her face. This man in particular was beginning to make her lose her temper.

'All right. Have it your way…my lady,' the man added scornfully.

Relieved, Brienne gathered Jaime's bounds…but then one of the other men approached Jaime curiously.

'Do I know you?' he asked, frowning.

Jaime was glad his dirty long hair was blocking his face. 'Have you been to Ashemark?'

'No.'

'Then you don't know me.' He realised too late that he hadn't kept up the ridiculous accent he'd put on earlier; instead he spoke in his normal voice.

'Do you ever go to the river market at Salt Rock?' the man questioned.

Jaime paused in mock thought. 'Is it near Ashemark?'

'No.'

'I've never been there,' Jaime replied, and he had never felt more grateful for Brienne's firm hold as she led him away from the tree and they began to walk back down the path the way they'd come.

'What do you think of these beauties?'

Brienne brought them both to a halt, and she cast a glance back up at the girls' bodies swinging hauntingly from the tree branch.

Oh, shit, Jaime thought.

'I hope you gave them quick deaths,' she said in a monotone voice.

The first man nodded at her smugly. 'Two of them we did, yeah.'

Brienne glared at him for a moment, hatred raging inside her, then turned scornfully away and pushed Jaime roughly forwards. But then the second man spoke up.

'Wait. I do know you!' he said accusingly, and he pointed a finger at Jaime; both he and Brienne closed their eyes briefly. 'That's Jaime Lannister!'

Brienne felt her heart skip a beat in horror.

Jaime scoffed as he tried not to panic. 'I wish someone had told me, I wouldn't have had to steal that pig!' he said mockingly.

'If this is the Kingslayer, I think I'd know about it,' Brienne said, casting them all cynical looks.

'How do you know what the Kingslayer looks like?' the first man asked his companion.

'I was at Whispering Wood, I saw him!' the second man insisted, as Jaime forced a laugh. 'They dragged him out of the woods and threw him down before the King.'

'He's not the Kingslayer, sorry to disappoint you,' Brienne said calmly, gathering up Jaime's bounds more firmly and jabbing him forwards again. 'If he was, I'd only be travelling his head.'

'I have a question for you both,' the first man then said, forcing them both to stop walking as he pointed at them. 'And I want you to answer it at the same time. I count to three, you both answer.'

Infuriated now, Brienne slowly walked around Jaime to glare furiously at the three Northern men. Jaime frowned at them as if they were being ridiculous. He appreciated Brienne's firm hold on his arm, though he wasn't sure if she had any idea how they were going to get out of this with him still in his restraints. She wouldn't have a chance against these men if it came down to it. She needed to set him free now. Why was she being so stubborn?

'What's his name?' the first man asked, frowning at them both suspiciously.

Jaime's lips parted as the man began to count down.

'One…'

Jaime slowly turned around to look at Brienne; her eyes were already on him.

'Two…'

Jaime and Brienne exchanged an intense look. Now what?

Despite their predicament, there was an almost smug smile playing on Jaime's lips, as if he was glad to prove her right. After all, he couldn't help feeling this was her fault. She should have released him from his manacles, like any sane person with a brain would.

'Three.'

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Brienne bashed her shoulder into Jaime, pushing him roughly to the side; the force of her movement and the heaviness of her armour nearly sent Jaime falling to the ground but, floundering slightly, he managed to keep upright and watched with his mouth open as a scene unlike anything he had ever expected unfolded before him.

It appeared that Brienne of Tarth had decided to take matters into her own hands. In merely the blink of an eye, Brienne had drawn her sword and slashed at the throat of the third man, before seizing his own sword and striking the second man with it.

Alarmed, Jaime's head jolted back as he looked on in shock. What in seven hells is going on?!

The men fought back but their attempts were feeble in comparison to Brienne's impressive skills. She roared out angrily as she slashed at them with her sword, and with his hands tied, all Jaime could do was watch from the side, awestruck, as they fought.

Who was this woman?

Within seconds, Brienne had cut down two of the men and they fell easily to their deaths. The sight was terrifying and yet also, to Jaime's horror, strangely arousing. Breathless, Jaime stared open-mouthed at Brienne as she turned away from her victims to the last man who remained alive: the first man who had initiated it all. Blood dripped off her sword, and she wore an expression of fury and loathing like nothing Jaime had ever seen before. He sincerely hoped she would never look at him like that; if she did, he would know that the end was nigh.

The first Northern man was wounded and struggling to get up from the path. Brienne bitterly threw his companion's weapons away; they landed with a loud clatter as she withdrew her other sword and stood over him.

'Two quick deaths?' she said, glaring at him.

The first man squirmed in fear, but it was too late; with a scornful look of vengeance, Brienne plunged the sword slowly into him. Jaime watched on, frozen. He didn't blame her for killing him cruelly; he had led the rape and hanging of three innocent women, so he deserved it. But still, he had not expected it of her. He had not expected anything he had seen just now in this past minute. It had been so quick, so sudden…and now it was over.

'All my life I've been knocking men like you into the dust.'

Brienne hadn't even struggled. She wasn't even injured. Instead she stood there exhaling deeply, humble in her triumph. She had fought and killed three male soldiers without so much as a scrape. It only made Jaime more intrigued to know this woman.

Brienne and Jaime took a few steps towards each other, silent. Brienne was rather breathless and worn out. Jaime was still stunned. Fascination filled every feature of his face as he looked from the dead men back up to Brienne.

'Those were Stark men,' was all he could think to say.

Brienne was wearing her usual scowl as she turned to face him, panting. 'I don't serve the Starks. I serve Lady Catelyn. I told her I'd take you to King's Landing, and that's what I'm going to do,' she said firmly, and she looked him up and down disdainfully. 'Stay.'

This time, Jaime didn't protest. She could order him about all she wanted, if she could fight like that with a sword. He watched her, mesmerized, as she strode over to the ropes and cut the dead girls down from the tree. They landed on the ground with a heavy thump, making Jaime flinch. At least Brienne had got vengeance for them. He wondered if he would have done the same thing, back in the days of his youth when he had tried to be an honourable knight…if he had ever managed to achieve such a thing.

Realising they weren't going to be departing this part of the forest anytime soon, Jaime sat down wearily on the path amongst the three dead men. As he watched Brienne dig the graves for the girls, he found himself beginning to admire her. The fact that she clearly despised him only made him more attentive.

He cleared his throat. 'Well, Lady Brienne, I feel like this might turn out to be a very interesting journey with you after all. My spirits have been lifted,' Jaime said, but Brienne merely looked at him with a hateful frown; his face fell wearily. 'No doubt you will drag them down again by the end of the day, you seem to have a knack for it.'

Brienne said nothing; she was too focussed on her task at hand, although secretly she was very pleased that she had defeated those men in front of Jaime. Perhaps now he wouldn't doubt or mock her abilities.

Jaime tilted his head at her as he watched. 'Do you need any help with that?' he offered half-heartedly.

'How do you propose to do that while you're in chains?' Brienne demanded sceptically, and she raised her eyebrows at him. 'Let me guess, you want me to free you?'

'This pointless job would be done much quicker with two. You've got quite a few more graves to dig than initially planned when we first got here, wouldn't you say?' Jaime pointed out slyly, looking around at all six dead bodies that littered the ground, and he grimaced. 'Besides, we need to get a move on, we want to avoid coming across any other people.'

'Why? Are you afraid they'll somehow beat me?'

Jaime smiled; he liked her confidence. 'You know, you and I are more alike than you'd care to admit,' he said, and Brienne's nostrils flared as she continued to dig.

'You and I are nothing alike, Kingslayer.'

'Well of course, we are parallel opposites in terms of looks, but other than that…we're both skilled fighters – I won't deny that in your case, now – and we've both been accused of slaying our kings.'

At this, Brienne rose instantly to her feet, abandoning the graves she had dug, and rounded on him furiously. 'How dare you? Do not compare your treacherous crime to something I did not and would never do. You broke an oath. And that is why I'm nothing like you.' She spat the words.

Jaime flickered his eyebrows at her. 'So you wouldn't like it if I called you 'Kingslayer' as well? Now you know how it feels-'

'Only there's a difference,' Brienne snapped, her voice shaking with rage, and she marched right up to him and forced him to his feet, where she held him roughly by his cloak. 'You killed your King. You murdered him in cold blood. I did no such thing.'

There was a tense silence as she glared at him. He had been looked at with scorn and disdain by many for most of his adult life, ever since the Sack of King's Landing, but for some inexplicable reason it bothered him now that Brienne looked at him that way too. Her words pained him too, to his astonishment.

'Don't provoke me,' she said in an almost frighteningly quiet voice. 'You saw what I did to those men.'

'I did indeed. It was very exciting,' Jaime said truthfully, his lips twitching.

The way she held his cloak tightly around his neck as she confronted him was uncomfortably straining, but he enjoyed the close proximity of their faces. It was amusing to see every miniscule twitch of her expression, every flicker of anger and irritation in her nostrils and mouth and eyes. And what stunning eyes they were.

Brienne sneered at him. 'You wouldn't say that if you were on the other end of my sword,' she said.

'Oh I'm not so sure about that,' Jaime said.

His tone of voice and look in his eyes were flirtatious in a way that Brienne had never encountered before. She felt rather flustered, and suddenly wished she wasn't holding him so close to her. She didn't like that smug twisted smile on his lips or the playful glint in his eyes.

'Are you threatening me, Lady Brienne?' he asked, tilting his head at her.

'I'm warning you. Stay out of my way, and stop being an absolute pain in my arse,' Brienne snapped, and she shoved him away and turned to get back to the graves. 'The sooner you behave the sooner we get you back to the capital and we never have to deal with each other again, thank the gods. Now hold your tongue and don't speak another word while I get on with this.'

Jaime smirked and nodded. 'As my lady commands.'

Brienne paused and shot him a stern glare.

Jaime held his hands up defensively and backed away. 'My apologies. I'll be silent,' he promised in a mocking whisper.

She stared at him wearily for a moment and then, with a deep sigh, turned back to the graves; Jaime smiled the moment she turned away.

He had a newfound respect for this woman. He had just watched her kill three hostile men with no help from him at all. And she was now taking the time to bury those women. It filled him with wonder.

Jaime didn't really know who Brienne of Tarth was, but he was determined to find out.

~ Present Day ~

The Dothraki horde and Ser Jorah were getting ready for the charge. Everyone else was in position. The night was dark and cold and filled with unknown terrors and frightened men, women and children.

It was time…and yet, deep down, no one was ready.

Brienne glanced anxiously at the man beside her as the wind blew his scruffy hair back dramatically. 'Are you sure about this?'

'What do you mean?' Jaime asked her with a frown, turning away from the black empty mist ahead of them to meet her gaze.

'You left the safety of King's Landing and came all this way for…for this-'

Jaime interrupted her with a dry chuckle. 'It's a little bit late for changing my mind now.'

His calm tone and expression unnerved her. 'You're not afraid you made a mistake?' Brienne asked.

'No, Brienne, I'm not afraid,' Jaime said, and he smiled at her. 'I'm with you.'