Based on events during Episode 4 of GoT Season 8

(Also includes flashback from Episode 7 of GoT Season 3)

There was nothing like Brienne's smile. It was so real and perfect, and yet she had no idea how wonderful it made Jaime feel inside, just to see her looking at him that way with those sweet nervous glances, to see her enjoying herself. Her grumpy scowls and anxious frowns were all gone, as if she had been replaced by someone bubbly and happy and no longer afraid to liberate herself and allow her emotions to be on full display. He hadn't seen this side of Brienne before, and it lifted his spirits so much that it led him to the realisation that he hadn't laughed this much or experienced this sort of joy in years.

As the wine continued to flow, Jaime realised he wasn't the only one entranced by the way in which Brienne had wholly given herself over to joy in embracing Tyrion's ridiculous game. Her precious enthusiasm and playfulness lit up both Tyrion and Pod as well, to the extent that all three men found themselves gazing at her in wonder while they played, glad that they had managed to persuade her to drink without restraint, glad that she could see just how easily her company was not only accepted, but also immensely enjoyed by all those lucky enough to be around her.

'Wrong, wrong, wrong! Drink!' Brienne was saying delightedly, pointing at Tyrion with a wide beam on her face, her eyes alive with joy; she really was quite drunk now.

Both Tyrion and Brienne laughed with each other as Tyrion frustratedly took another gulp of his wine. It was so nice for Jaime to see Brienne joking around with his brother and poking fun at him, as if they were long-lost friends. After all, he needed support and encouragement from Tyrion in this endeavour, and he certainly believed he had it, particularly now he was assured that Tyrion and Brienne got on so remarkably well.

With a groan, Tyrion slammed his goblet down and awaited the next statement.

Brienne considered him for a moment, smiling. 'You were married,' she said, glancing over at Jaime and exchanging a sly smile with him, 'before Sansa.'

Tyrion turned to Jaime, knowing only he could have told her that. She was really getting the hang of this game.

Jaime pointed at him in amusement. 'Drink!' he said, and with a groan Tyrion obliged, though almost spilling his drink as he did so; Jaime strongly suspected that Tyrion was drunker than the rest of them put together.

Smiling so much he could almost feel his cheekbones beginning to ache, Jaime turned to gaze at Brienne while Tyrion drank. His face faltered slightly as he took in her beaming expression. Seeing her so happy like this left him utterly lovestruck…she was breathtaking and radiant and full of joy and laughter. He'd never thought her capable of such a thing. He was completely dazed by the sight of her.

'You're drinking wine, but you prefer ale!' Brienne then said to Tyrion.

'No!' Tyrion replied victoriously, and he and Jaime both laughed as Brienne took another swig of wine.

She put down her goblet and waited excitedly for Tyrion's turn, smiling back and forth between Jaime and Tyrion in anticipation. Jaime gazed at her with pride, a warm smile on his face as he bumped his legs affectionately against her own under the table. He couldn't remember having such a good time before. He'd never imagined this, the four of them in a tight little group having fun and playing games, and Brienne letting her hair down and really enjoying herself for the first time. He was almost smug, knowing that there were others in the hall watching them enviously, not having as half a good time as they were. It was obvious to everyone in the hall that the three men were in awe of Brienne and proud to be in her company, and she was relishing in it.

Tyrion then pinned her with his gaze, and leaned back. 'You're a virgin,' he said quietly.

Brienne's smile instantly disappeared as her eyes flickered to Jaime's while Pod took an awkward sip of his drink beside her. Jaime's face had also fallen as he looked back at Brienne, upset that Tyrion had chosen to ruin the moment with that statement. Yet there was something else hidden in Jaime's gaze – was it curiosity?

'That's a statement about the present,' Jaime said to Tyrion in a low voice.

Brienne realised that he was trying to find a loop in the rules of the game, to save her from humiliation. But Tyrion was too drunk to realise that he had gone too far.

'At no point in the past, up until this very moment, have you slept with a man,' Tyrion insisted, watching Brienne very closely. 'Or a woman.'

Mortified, Brienne's lips parted, struggling to know what to say, and glanced awkwardly at them all, feeling slightly crestfallen. Was that all they saw when they looked at her? A pure yet naïve maiden, ugly and scared and uncertain? Could they not see anything more than that? Could Jaime?

She averted her gaze and looked down at the table, drenched with spilt wine. Brienne had been having such a good time, but suddenly she felt like Tyrion's remark had sobered her up, and made her realise just how tired she was now. She'd had enough of socialising and fun and games for tonight. And she was not going to stand for any mockery.

Her eyes flickered once more towards Jaime, but that only made her more embarrassed. Looking away, she then rose to her feet; all three men watched her with sorrowful expressions.

Jaime's heart sank. Damn you, Tyrion.

Brienne looked down disdainfully at Tyrion. 'I have to piss,' she announced bitterly, her words slurring slightly.

They barely saw Tormund approaching; Jaime was too busy glaring angrily at his brother. Tyrion looked back up at Brienne, ashamed for his rudeness. He hadn't meant for it to have happened like this. The last thing he wanted to do was humiliate such an honourable, heroic woman, one that his brother cared for deeply and was clearly trying but failing to woo. If only he'd simply stuck to his original plan of saying 'you have feelings for my brother', then things might have taken a different turn. Alas, he was too drunk to know any different.

'We did it! We faced those icy fucks!' Tormund said loudly, storming up to Brienne by the table with his horn filled with whatever ghastly drink he'd chosen.

Tyrion glanced at Jaime – who appeared (understandably) rather put out by the new arrival – and looked down, irritated. It was all going wrong. This was not what he'd wanted to happen.

'Looked right into their blue eyes, and here we are,' Tormund went on breathlessly, coming to a halt in front of Brienne and gazing up at her, drunk and completely smitten.

Jaime barely paid Tormund any attention; all he could do was gaze up at Brienne and wonder if she could somehow be attracted to this ridiculous buffoon of a man, if she was flattered by his attention. Brienne simply stared back at Tormund with a blank expression, too intoxicated to think of a polite rebuff.

With a sigh, Tormund then turned to the rest of the party. 'Now, which one of you cowards shit in my pants?' he said to them, and burst out laughing.

The three men said nothing, and merely stared back up at him in exasperation. Jaime rolled his eyes irritably, wishing this man would just go away so that Tyrion would have a chance to make amends for his behaviour towards Brienne.

Brienne then cut over Tormund's irritating guffaw. 'Please pardon me for a moment,' she said, her eyes trailing pointedly over to Jaime; she was aware that he had been watching her every move since Tyrion had decided to ruin the game.

Her eyes still on Jaime, Brienne then pushed past Tormund, who was leering up at her eagerly, and left the table. Jaime exchanged a glance with Tyrion as she walked past them down the aisle, and within seconds he was on his feet, pushing the bench urgently back. Tyrion's lips twitched triumphantly as he watched his brother stand up before Tormund, who had also stepped forward to follow Brienne.

Tormund halted slightly, confused by this slightly-taller man who dared to block his path. Jaime turned to look at him. There wasn't much in this world that intimidated Tormund Giantsbane, but for some reason, the sly, sceptical look on the notorious Kingslayer's face as he looked him up and down made him freeze.

With an air of bravado, Jaime gave Tormund a sceptical frown. Nice try.

Patting Tormund on the shoulder, Jaime then turned and walked confidently after Brienne, making Pod grin. Tormund watched with wide, indignant eyes as Jaime followed the path he was so very sure of now, but was then distracted by the sound of sloshing liquid; Tyrion was pouring his own wine into Tormund's horn, as consolation. Clinking his horn sympathetically with his empty cup, Tyrion then walked away, having done what he'd come here to do. As drunk as he was, Tyrion felt bad for being such a deliberate arse and making Brienne uncomfortable, but it was the only way – this gave Jaime an opportunity to shine. After all, this was the real game. This was what Tyrion had intended the moment he'd made the decision to come over and join them.

Brienne looked back anxiously as she exited the great hall, and was so startled to see Jaime following her that for a moment she slowed her pace, before the nerves got the better of her and she hurried off down the corridor. She hadn't gotten very far by the time he'd almost caught up with her; she could hear his footsteps close behind her just before she began to climb up the stone steps.

Having had enough of playing games, Brienne rounded on him. 'What are you doing, Jaime?'

'I…what?' Jaime said in alarm, coming to a halt.

'Are you following me?' she demanded.

Jaime hesitated, realising too late that he didn't actually have a plan.

'N-no,' he replied innocently; Brienne tilted her head at him challengingly and stared at him with scrutinizing, stern eyes, and he soon sighed in defeat. 'Yes. I wanted to…'

'Yes?' she prompted, her heartrate suddenly increased.

'T-to apologise. On behalf of my brother,' Jaime replied, swallowing nervously. 'Tyrion didn't mean to be impertinent back then in the game, he just sometimes…has a tendency to get quite familiar and…vulgar when he's had a few drinks. I'm sorry.'

Brienne smirked at him, still rather tipsy from all the wine. 'Vulgarity doesn't embarrass me, Jaime.'

'It doesn't?' His voice broke slightly; was she flirting?

There was a slight pause.

'Your brother is forgiven,' Brienne said curtly. 'Besides, I have no real reason to take offence at his…statement.'

She meant it. She had nothing to be embarrassed about; after all, she was a noble lady of high birth. But still, deep down she had been rather stung by the insinuation in Tyrion's remark that she ought to be pitied over her maidenhood.

'Hmmm, yes,' Jaime said thoughtfully, taking a few steps closer to her. 'His statement which, I noticed…you didn't drink to.'

Brienne's lips twitched slightly as his eyes burned into hers, his face very close, wearing an expression of intrigue. She was feeling rather warm and dizzy all of a sudden – was it him, or the alcohol? She couldn't be sure. Jaime's eyes had flickered to her lips but before he could do anything more than take another step forward, they were interrupted by the arrival of Lady Sansa and an entourage of guests, emerging from around the corner of the corridor.

'Ah, Ser Brienne, are you heading up so soon?' Lady Sansa asked, acting oblivious to what she had just walked in on.

'I fear I may have had a little bit too much wine, my lady,' Brienne replied, embarrassed.

'No such thing, not on a night of celebration,' Sansa said encouragingly, as she kept on walking. 'I'd best get back, I need to find my sister.'

Brienne nodded. 'My lady.'

Sansa then turned to Jaime; an uneasy expression flickered momentarily on her face, but then she glanced at Brienne and forced herself to smile at her protector's companion. 'Ser Jaime,' she said politely, and Jaime nodded back.

Strangely, a few of Sansa's guests had held back at the sight of him; to Jaime's astonishment, they were bowing their heads in greeting. They were acknowledging him. One of them even spoke to him; a Northern knight.

'I hope you're enjoying the feast, Ser Jaime?' he asked.

'I've…I've been having a wonderful time,' Jaime replied, glancing over at Brienne; she blushed. 'Thank you, ser.'

When they had all walked away, Jaime turned questioningly to Brienne.

'Err…Brienne, have you by any chance…said something? About me?' he asked her, leaning casually against the stone wall.

Brienne tried to frown at him convincingly. 'What do you mean?'

'Well quite a few of these people who were looking at me like I was a pile of horse shit yesterday are calling me 'Ser Jaime' now. They've all been quite…welcoming towards me at the feast, as well,' Jaime said bewilderedly. 'It's quite odd, don't you think?'

Brienne seemed unperturbed. 'You fought alongside them. And you're a guest at Winterfell,' she said airily.

He tilted his head at her, watching her carefully. 'That's not how they see it.'

There was a small pause. Brienne's chin quivered slightly as she avoided his eye contact.

Jaime sighed. 'Brienne, what did you say?'

'Only the truth,' Brienne replied, knowing there was no point in lying; Jaime closed his eyes with a groan and banged his head against the wall. 'They were calling you 'Kingslayer' and said you didn't belong at the service today, I couldn't just stand by and say nothing while they were dragging your name through the-'

'It wasn't your secret to tell-!' Jaime interrupted sharply.

'Secret?! What secret? He was called the Mad King!' Brienne pointed out, incredulous.

'Brienne, I appreciate you sticking up for me, I do,' Jaime said earnestly. 'But the name 'Kingslayer' has been my burden for most of my life, and I accepted it long ago. I don't need you to try and get people to…like me by spreading my story, I don't care what they think of me, I don't want them to know-'

'Then why did you tell me what happened, that day in the bathhouse at Harrenhal?' Brienne asked, confused.

'Because you're different!' Jaime snapped loudly.

Another tense pause fell between them. They were both breathless, their heads slightly woozy from all the drinking. Brienne had never felt more frustrated.

'Is that it? That's all you're going to say?' she said, infuriated. 'That I'm 'different'?'

Jaime frowned. 'Well what do you want me to say?' he demanded, his heart racing in panic.

'I don't know! The truth?! Explain!' Brienne exclaimed, not caring that their argument could probably be heard from inside the hall. 'I don't understand why you're so angry – you want only me to know the truth that will change the way everyone sees you, but you're happy to keep the rest of the world in the dark? It makes no sense!'

'You have no right to say that when you know nothing about what it was like back then!' Jaime shouted. 'I told you one snippet of one of the worst days of my life, but that was nothing compared to…' His voice broke and he trailed off, before speaking again at a much quieter volume. 'I still have nightmares about the man. The things I let him get away with would horrify you. So I don't want you changing people's opinion of me for the better. I don't want their respect, and I certainly don't deserve it.'

Brienne took a step towards him, the crease in her forehead prominent as she frowned at him in dismay. 'You're wrong,' she said fiercely, her voice trembling.

She then turned and began walking up the steps. Closing his eyes and sighing in regret, Jaime hurried after her and held out for her arm gently; she came to a halt at his touch.

'That was harsh, Brienne, f-forgive me. I've had quite a bit to drink,' Jaime muttered, avoiding her disdainful gaze.

'I've found people act truer to themselves when they're intoxicated, as a matter of fact,' Brienne said coolly, as she slowly removed his hand from her arm. 'But I'm sorry if I…betrayed your trust in any way. It was certainly not my intention.'

'I know that and…' He broke off at the look on her face and sighed. 'Gods, Brienne, you've made me ashamed now.'

'Oh dear. I am sorry.'

Jaime tilted his head, exasperated by her sarcastic tone. 'Let me make it up to you,' he urged. 'Will you be returning to the feast?'

'I don't think so, no,' Brienne replied, her tone weary but firm. 'I'm rather tired.'

'But we haven't finished the game-' Jaime protested, but Brienne had already retreated further up the steps.

'Really. I need some sleep. It's fine, Jaime, don't worry about it,' she said reluctantly, as she walked away. 'I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.'

Jaime sighed in defeat. 'Goodnight,' he murmured, as she disappeared from view.

Left there alone and full of shame and regret, Jaime looked around the corridor helplessly, Brienne's scent still lingering in the cold frosty air.

What was he to do now?

Jaime exhaled shakily as he stood outside the cracked, damp door. He was nervous. He'd been dreading this moment for days. He held his hand up to knock, before realising he didn't need to; she was imprisoned here. Bolton's guard stared at him with raised eyebrows, wondering why the hell Jaime was hesitating when he was the one who had somehow managed to persuade Lord Bolton to allow him time to say goodbye to his former captor. Feeling extremely uneasy, Jaime then turned to the guard and nodded.

The guard promptly unlocked and opened the door, and allowed Jaime to step through.

The room was not exactly a cell of sorts, but it was a decrepit, dank and miserable chamber, with a broken ceiling and a crumbling hole in the brick wall, acting as a window. It was filled with cluttered bits of old furniture and trunks belonging to the last occupants of the fortress, and there were a few oil lamps and candles dotted here and there.

Brienne, who had been sat staring glumly into the distance as she dwelled on her hopeless predicament, looked around and rose to her feet to greet her visitor. She was still wearing the pink fur-lined dress; once again, Jaime was surprised by how it emphasised her good shape. He could see her grubby boots and scarred ankles underneath the too-short skirt, and her cleavage was unwillingly on full display through the lace in her bodice. He could tell from the way she held herself in the dress that she still felt uncomfortable in it, despite her not looking half as ridiculous as she clearly thought she did.

She blinked rapidly in surprise when she saw that it was Jaime. She'd neither seen nor heard of him in days; when she had asked after him the other day when the guards had brought her a pathetic portion of dried-up food on a tray, they had shut her down with a mere retort that Jaime had been forbidden from seeing her in her new accommodations as part of 'Lord Bolton's orders'. It was somewhat a relief for Brienne to see him now, particularly to see him walking towards her without a hint of frailty or exhaustion. His hair, beard and rags were no different, but there was something stronger in his posture. These past few days of rest and recovery with the help and support of Qyburn had clearly done him a world of good.

Jaime turned pointedly to the guard; he obliged and exited the room at once, shutting the door firmly behind him and leaving the two of them alone. He and Brienne looked at each other for a moment, neither of them sure of what to say.

'I thought you were gone,' Brienne murmured.

Jaime averted his gaze briefly. 'Tomorrow,' he replied, feeling a stab of guilt.

A silence fell between them as Brienne looked into his eyes, full of sorrow and pity for her. She understood then. He'd come to bid her farewell. This was probably going to be the last time they would see each other. The thought saddened Brienne more than she cared to admit.

'Have they told you what they plan to do with me?' Brienne asked; she appeared calm, but Jaime didn't miss the slight tremor in her voice.

Jaime hesitated before answering. 'Lord Bolton's travelling tomorrow as well – he's going to the Twins for Edmure Tully's wedding. You're to remain here.'

'With Locke,' Brienne said in a low voice, full of dread.

Jaime couldn't find the words to say; all he could do was gaze at her with regretful eyes…eyes that had suddenly become rather wet.

They both knew what this meant. She was to be left behind as Locke's plaything, to be tortured and no doubt sexually abused, even though Jaime had fought so hard to stop it so many times. And there was nothing he could do to protect her from harm now. He was utterly powerless, and at the mercy of Roose Bolton. It was a hopeless situation, and all Jaime could hope was that Lord Selwyn Tarth's raven would arrive soon to rescue his daughter in time.

Jaime's lips parted as he struggled to find the words, and he looked down hopelessly, ashamed of how his selfish, arrogant actions had brought her here. He didn't know how to say goodbye to her. He'd never thought it would be this hard. He'd never thought it would be hard at all.

'I owe you a debt,' Jaime said sincerely, taking a step forwards and forcing himself to look back up at her.

Brienne hesitantly looked up from the floor to meet his gaze. They both knew that she wouldn't have tried so hard to keep him safe if it hadn't been for her sworn oath to Catelyn Stark. And yet a part of Jaime liked to think that she had defended him during their time with Locke in ways that she hadn't been obligated to do so. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking. Looking at her now, her expression unusually soft as she gazed at him, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that, whatever the reason, she had roused him from his suicidal depression after losing his hand. She had given him a reason to live. Without her, he would not be stood here right now, on the brink of finally completing his journey back to his family and his home. And yet here he was, about to leave her to the mercy of their savage torturers. Jaime didn't know how she could stand to look at him.

To his surprise, she began walking towards him.

'When Catelyn Stark released you, we both made a promise to her,' Brienne said, coming to a halt as she stood before him. 'Now it's your promise. You gave your word. Keep it and consider the debt paid.'

Her tone was calm, the look in her eyes firm. Jaime realised then that she wasn't angry with him for leaving, that she understood. She knew he needed to get to King's Landing, and she also knew that he wanted to do right by her. All she could do now was forward her mission – no, their mission – and ensure that he carry out his duty and fulfil their oath.

Jaime couldn't help but admire Brienne even more; the resignation in her expression told him that she'd already accepted that she would inevitably die here in this miserable place, but that didn't matter to her – she was more concerned that Jaime fulfilled their vows.

That was when he realised that Brienne was the most honourable person he had ever met.

Jaime nodded slowly at her, feeling almost choked up by her words. 'I will return the Stark girls to their mother,' he promised, and he tilted his head at her with an earnest look in his glistening eyes. 'I swear it.'

Brienne gazed back at him, rather taken aback by the wetness in his eyes, and then nodded, satisfied. She didn't think she was a fool for believing the man stood before her; the words that had come out of his mouth were sincere, and she knew that he was capable of honour and goodness, hence her newfound respect for her former captive. Even though she was being left alone with Locke, she was accepting Jaime's departure with good grace.

Jaime swallowed, stunned by her nod of approval and by the unusual tenderness of her facial expression; no one ever took his promises at face value, and yet him merely saying 'I swear it' had been enough for her to believe him. It made him realise just how much he had taken Brienne for granted all this time; why hadn't he stopped the bickering sooner? Why had he left it too late? Brienne could have been his one true friend in all of Westeros…only now he was to leave, never to see her again.

With a raise of her head, Brienne then gave Jaime the briefest flicker of a half-smile. 'Goodbye, Ser Jaime,' she said softly.

Jaime's eyes lit up. He was stunned. The raw emotion and look of sheer amazement on his face almost made Brienne well up herself as she realised just how much her calling him by his real name meant to him.

She wanted to say so many things to him. She wanted him to know that the name 'Kingslayer' was not who he really was, that he didn't deserve it, that it didn't define him. But of course those words would be meaningless, because it did define him in the eyes of everyone else in Westeros. Only she knew the whole truth; Jaime had told her so when she'd come to check on him after he had fainted in the bath a few days ago. But perhaps he could be comforted somewhat by the fact that he was no longer the Kingslayer in her eyes. She hoped so anyway.

There was no doubt about it – there were definitely tears in Jaime's eyes now. After all, very few people had freely addressed him by his real name apart from when under the obligations of what social rank demanded. But this remarkable woman, this just and fair woman, had come into his life and deemed him respectable and honourable. And now he was about to walk away from her forever.

Jaime's lips parted as he tried to find something, anything, to say. He only managed to nod wordlessly, his tear-filled gaze full of gratitude. Then he swallowed, and, looking like he was making the biggest mistake of his life, he turned and walked away back towards the door.

As the guard opened it for him, Brienne released a shaky breath, unable to maintain her composure. His emotional response had touched her deeply. She hadn't needed a verbal goodbye. The look in his eyes had been enough.

She was broken from her reverie at the sound of the guard grumbling irritably as Jaime then walked back into the room, ignoring his escort's protests. Brienne blinked away her tears as he halted in the doorway and stared helplessly at her.

'Lady Brienne, I…' Jaime began in a wavering voice.

He paused. He wanted to tell her thank you, he wanted to bid her a proper farewell, he wanted to make amends for landing her here and help her escape from this gloomy dungeon.

But all he could say in a broken voice was, 'Forgive me.'

He didn't specify what for, but she didn't ask for clarification. The look in his eyes was answer enough: For everything.

Jaime felt his chin quiver slightly as she gazed wordlessly back at him. He could vividly remember her bitter words from their first day together in the woods…'Your crimes are past forgiveness, Kingslayer.'

Brienne considered him for a moment, dazed. 'I forgive you,' she said, in barely more than a whisper.

That was the first time Jaime gazed at her in complete awe. And it would most certainly not be the last.

His lips trembling with gratitude, Jaime gave her a shaky nod, unafraid for her to see the tear that trickled down his cheek. Neither of them wanted to leave each other. But then, before Jaime could say anything else, the irritated guard marched over and grabbed him by the shoulders. Before either of them knew what had happened, the guard had forced Jaime roughly out of the room and slammed the door shut, leaving Brienne alone. Her mouth moved wordlessly as she stared wide-eyed at the spot where Jaime had been stood merely moments before, gazing at her with both desperation and sorrow. She knew the look on his face would stay imprinted in her mind for whatever short time remained of her life.

Oh, how I wish I could have gone with him. Or that he could have stayed with me.

But there was no point in wishful thinking, Brienne knew that. Jaime Lannister was gone.

Her arms were unsteady as she reached to sit back down, and for the first time in as long as she could remember, Brienne let her face crumble in despair.

~ Present Day ~

Why hadn't she drunk?

Had she averted her gaze in embarrassment because she had in fact slept with someone recently? Could it be that horrendous Tormund?

The thought made Jaime sick as he paced anxiously about the corridor, gulping down more wine from the pitcher he'd brought with him. It had been an hour since he'd bid an agitated goodnight to Brienne and yet, despite the further drinking, he was no more reassured or confident in his messy thought process. He had intended to go after her – what to say or do, he had no idea – but still hadn't quite found the courage. He'd sincerely hoped that a few more cups of wine would have helped him with this, but the results had disappointed him; instead he was now simply walking unsteadily around the corridors of the castle with the pitcher and his cup like a pathetic, lonely, drunken fool.

When a slightly-sobered-up Tyrion came across Jaime sat lazily on a stone bench around the corner from the great hall entrance, looking despondent with his half-empty pitcher of wine hanging from his hand, he felt torn between laughing and shouting in frustration. He had rather hoped that Jaime's arrogant swagger away from Tormund during the feast earlier had guaranteed the successful outcome of his highly entertaining game of match-making between his brother and the first female knight in Westeros. But apparently not.

'What in seven hells are you doing?' Tyrion demanded exasperatedly.

'I'm drinking,' Jaime mumbled, taking another sip of his wine, and Tyrion wiggled his eyebrows.

'Ahh, needing a bit of liquid courage, I see,' he said with a smirk, as he walked over to sit beside him on the bench.

Tyrion wished his stupid fool of a brother could see that Brienne wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He'd only seen the two of them around each other for a few days, but he'd only needed a few seconds to see what was so blindingly clear to everyone but them.

Jaime sighed heavily, clearly conflicted. 'I don't know what I'm doing.'

'Don't know what you're doing?!' Tyrion said incredulously. 'You're Jaime fucking Lannister! That woman is most likely in her chambers, alone and pining after you, and if you don't make your move soon that milk-sucking Tormund fellow certainly will!'

Jaime looked around at him in shock, taken aback by the sheer volume and tone of frustration in his brother's voice. He hadn't realised just how invested Tyrion was in this.

'Why did you ask her such a personal question in the game?' Jaime asked, his words slurring slightly. 'Why even bring it up-?'

Tyrion rolled his eyes. 'Why do you think, you idiot?'

Jaime's mouth moved wordlessly for a while in shock before he fully comprehended what Tyrion meant. 'Y-you were trying to contrive this?'

'Well yes, obviously, surely you realised that was my real agenda. I just didn't predict you'd be such a coward about it,' Tyrion said waspishly.

There was a short pause as Jaime continued to sit and think about everything he regretted in his life. Then he thought of Brienne tonight at the feast…her infectious laughter, her nervous smile, her fluttering gaze…

'I've never done this before,' Jaime murmured quietly as he stared down at his lap, his tone scared and almost sober.

Tyrion fell silent for a moment. They both knew that he meant that Jaime had only ever been with Cersei. He had never been romantically involved with anyone else, and his and Cersei's relationship had been built entirely out of lust. This, with Brienne, was something deeper. It was built on the foundation of a powerful, emotional connection. After all these years and all the tension, how could Jaime just suddenly risk crossing that line with her?

'Are you having doubts about your…feelings for her?' Tyrion asked in a much softer tone. 'Or her feelings for you?'

Jaime considered him for a moment. 'No,' he replied eventually, and he felt himself smile as he spoke the word and realised it to be completely and utterly true.

'Then go to her! Now!' Tyrion urged, and he smacked his brother on the chest.

Jaime looked alarmed. 'And say what?!'

'Say what's in here,' Tyrion said, thumping his chest again, but this time gesturing his heart.

He shook his head at his older brother exasperatedly. It was almost adorable to see the most handsome man in Westeros terrified at the prospect of trying to seduce a woman.

'You're Jaime Lannister. I'm sure she won't be able to resist whatever nauseating poetry you've got lined up for her.'

Jaime grimaced doubtfully. The right words in these sorts of situations – most of those being with Brienne – never came to Jaime, particularly when faced with the disconcerting way in which her large beautiful blue eyes had often simply stared at him in utter confusion whenever he'd tried saying anything remotely nice, let alone romantic. Her standoffishness and bewilderment had often just left him too flustered to say what he was really feeling 'in here', as Tyrion had put it.

What could he say tonight to make things any different? How could he possibly find the courage to cross that bridge?

As if he could hear his thoughts, Tyrion let out a heavy sigh. 'You fought and survived in a battle against an army of dead men. If you can do that, you can certainly do this,' he said slyly, and then his tone turned more earnest as he rose to his feet. 'Don't let fear of change or uncertainty get in the way of finding happiness with the person who is right for you.'

Jaime looked up from his lap. Tyrion was giving him an encouraging smile; a look Jaime was not familiar with.

'Be brave. Or I'll personally bash you around the head with a battle axe,' Tyrion said, clapping Jaime sympathetically on the back, and with that he walked off back to the great hall to re-join the feast.

Left once more on his own, Jaime breathed deeply as he stared down at his golden hand, the chorus of drunken singing and shouting coming from the great hall nothing but a distant buzz in his ears as he tried to reflect on Tyrion's words.

His one regret had been fighting in that battle the other night without telling Brienne how he felt about her. He needed her to know. He needed her to know who and what he wanted. And he needed her to know now.

Jaime leapt to his feet. Grabbing the pitcher of wine and his cup, he marched back into the great hall and headed straight for the table lined with more alcohol. He undid the knots in his jacket so that he could relax a little before grabbing a second cup. And then, ignoring the guests' jeers and shouts for him to join in, he left the hall.

A pulsing sensation running through his entire body, he hurried up the stone steps. The noise of the feast had soon faded once he'd reached the upper levels. His hand clenched tightly around the wine pitcher and two goblets, Jaime then strode along down the corridor. The butterflies had already formed in his stomach by the time he approached the entrance to Brienne's bedchambers, and he froze.

It had taken him every bit of effort he had in him to bring himself here, right to her door, but his nerves were once more kicking in. He felt just like he had done the day before he'd left Harrenhal, when he'd hesitated before entering her room to bid her farewell…only this time it wasn't dread that filled him as he stood outside Brienne's door; it was a pounding in his chest that he recognised only as excitement.

'Don't let fear of change or uncertainty get in the way of finding happiness with the person who is right for you.'

Jaime took a deep breath and knocked on the door.