Based on events during Episode 4 of GoT Season 8

(Also includes flashback from Episode 2 of GoT Season 3)

As the days passed, Jaime and Brienne fell into a steady routine. They would work together around the castle grounds with Pod and the rest of Brienne's force by day, and by night they dined together with their friends before retreating to the secluded comforts of their bedchambers. Every evening, there was food and wine and bickering and laughter, a combination neither of them had been accustomed to until now, and while they healed from the traumas and injuries of the battle, they told each other stories and secrets of their lives that they had not yet revealed, until Jaime and Brienne felt like they knew the other better than themselves.

Brienne had already grown used to sharing her bedchambers with someone else – in fact, with his belongings moved in here and with how quickly he had settled in, she couldn't imagine what it would be like now without Jaime living with her. He always slept on her right side, so that he could touch her with his good hand; he liked to stroke her hair and skin as she fell to sleep. It made Brienne think bemusedly back to the days long ago when they had spent nights in the woods trying to sleep in each other's company, back when his hands had been tied in his manacles and they'd been surrounded by trees, with nothing but incessant bickering and complaining and huffing between them. How things had changed since then.

They both attracted many curious looks – both in the courtyard and fields of the castle grounds while they worked during the day, and in the great hall during every evening meal – while they laughed together and stayed close to each other, stealing longing glances or lingering touches here and there when they thought no one could see. They were practically inseparable, and their proximity and body language only gave further fuel to the rumours that they were romantically involved, although many people at Winterfell didn't believe it – after all, Jaime Lannister with Brienne of Tarth? There had never been a more unlikely pairing.

But Jaime and Brienne didn't remotely care about the gossip and curious eyes that followed them wherever they went. They were too happy to care about something as trivial as other people's opinions.

So this is what love is, they'd both think, but never be brave enough to say aloud.

Their favourite part of the day was just before the sunset, where they had completed their tasks for the day and could escape for an hour or so before dinner. They often took this opportunity to go for walks along the snow-covered hills, hand-in-hand, away from all the staring and judgements. It would just be the two of them and the view of Winterfell, and nothing had ever been more peaceful. Jaime had even grown accustomed to the freezing cold temperatures, something he'd never thought he could get comfortable with. But he had, for Brienne.

'I could get used to this,' Jaime said wistfully one evening, taking in the views of winter town from above and squeezing her hand as they strolled leisurely together across the hilltop.

Brienne smiled at him. 'Would you like to?'

'Possibly. I'm starting to tolerate your presence more, so I think I could cope with living here,' Jaime said, his lips twitching slightly, and Brienne raised her eyebrows at him.

'That's assuming I'd even want you to live within ten miles of me.'

'Well there is that,' Jaime said thoughtfully. 'We'd probably drive each other mad.'

'We probably would,' Brienne agreed.

They stopped walking then and turned to face each other, their fingers still intertwined as, chuckling, their lips met. As Jaime leaned away, he saw that Brienne's eyes and hair were positively glowing from the burnt orange hue of the sky, the rays of the departing sunlight shining directly onto her. It came as no surprise to Jaime that she looked almost ethereal in that moment, and his lips parted as he stared at her in a daze.

Ever since they had met, Brienne had been the light at the end of the long, dark foreboding tunnel that Jaime had long accepted as his only path in life. But she had shown him differently. She had guided him out into the light. So how had she given him any other choice but to love her as strongly as he did? He remembered that perfect day when he had first arrived here at Winterfell to join the battle…the evening by the hearth in the great hall…knighting Brienne, his finest achievement. In that moment, he had been so starstruck, so engrossed in how beautiful Brienne had looked in the firelight and the way she'd looked at him. It was as if the whole world had fallen away around them and they had only been able to see each other. He had been in absolute awe of her radiance and just how much she deserved the title she had long dreamed of receiving.

And now that moment had transformed into something of a daily routine. This was his new life now. And it was wonderful.

The next day found Jaime, Brienne, Pod and a troop of selected men riding out to patrol the grounds; since the threat of the White Walkers had been eradicated, various bandits had tried breaking into Winterfell's walls to steal supplies. Indeed, they came across one particular group of thieves who were trying to carry off one of the boxes of wheat that had been delivered to the castle merely yesterday. Brienne soon dealt with them – Jaime watched with satisfaction and pride as she scared them off with merely a few impressive swings of her sword – before ordering a retreat back to the castle so that they could get the wheat back to the store cupboards and kitchens in the castle.

'Ser Brienne, let me,' one of the soldiers offered at once, as Brienne bent down to pick up the large box of wheat.

Brienne rolled her eyes. 'I'm a big woman, I can manage it.'

'She is one big woman,' Jaime said approvingly.

He meant it positively, but regretted the words at once as Brienne turned to face him, her pursed lips trying not to smile as she glared at him, unimpressed.

'Oh, I'm sorry-'

He broke off, mortified, as Pod whacked him over the head playfully, amused. Jaime pulled a face at him, and then they all set off back towards the castle. He enjoyed the new relationship he had sprung up with Pod since the battle. He hadn't really known the lad before he had come to Winterfell, but he was fun and loyal and devoted to Brienne…and he liked Jaime, which was always a bonus. Indeed, Pod secretly viewed both Jaime and Brienne as his parents, particularly now they spent so much time in each other's company during the day as a group, and Pod wasn't the only one relishing in this newfound family unit. It gave Brienne more joy than she could say just to see Jaime and Pod train together or laugh together. It made her feel truly home at last. And it was nice that there were no secrets between the three of them – well, within reason.

'It must be nice for you two to spend so much time together after so long apart,' Pod said to them both, once they had arrived back at the castle and deposited the box of wheat.

Jaime smiled fondly at Brienne. 'Yes, it's wonderful.'

'I don't enjoy it. I don't like him,' Brienne said bluntly; deadpan sarcasm seemed to have become her new forte recently, which Jaime and Pod loved.

Jaime sighed in mock misery. 'Alas, that is the truth of it. She keeps asking me where Tormund is, but she has to make do with second best, I'm afraid,' he said jokingly.

Pod laughed. 'Who would have thought?' he said, still dazed by the sight of Brienne so alight with humour and joy.

'In all seriousness, I never thought Jaime and I would even become allies, let alone…this,' Brienne said, exchanging an amused glance with Jaime. 'From the day we first met, Jaime was…well, let's just say he wasn't fond of the idea of me escorting him back to King's Landing.'

'That's not true at all,' Jaime protested indignantly. 'I knew it from the moment I saw you that we were destined to be…soulmates.'

Brienne simply burst out into hysterical laughter, making Jaime beam; he loved to make her laugh like that, particularly when it was so rare. Or rather, it used to be so rare.

Pod smirked at Jaime. 'You know, Ser Brienne once told me that some of the best times of her life so far were after you rescued her from Harrenhal and went to King's Landing together-'

'I've subsequently decided that I was incorrect in saying that, Pod, so you might want to shut your mouth now,' Brienne interrupted sharply, giving him a warning look.

'No, no, no, I want to hear this story,' Jaime said eagerly, grinning. 'Go on, Pod. Tell your Uncle Jaime-'

'Uncle Jaime?! Excuse me?' Brienne exclaimed.

Their joint laughter rang out across the open courtyard so loudly that everyone within the castle walls could hear, and their infectious jovial mood could be felt throughout the evening while they all dined together. By the time they had retired to their bedchambers, Jaime and Brienne were too tired to do anything but undress, stoke the fire and slip under the warm fur covers of their bed to go to sleep.

Jaime watched Brienne as she sat on the edge of the bed and drank her daily cup of moon tea from a small cup. She'd been drinking it every evening after supper since the day after the feast, she'd told him reassuringly; the maester had been well supplied, apparently.

'Have you ever wanted children, Brienne?' Jaime asked without thinking.

Brienne almost choked on her drink, but luckily didn't and managed to maintain taking a dignified sip of the moon tea before placing her cup down on the table beside the bed. 'I…I did once,' she murmured thoughtfully. 'But then I…I never married, and…things took a different turn in my life.'

Jaime smiled sympathetically. 'So you just sealed yourself off to that other part of your life?'

'In a way, I suppose,' Brienne replied, tucking herself in under the covers and leaning against his shoulder as he put his arm around her. 'Yes. It was the best way to…cope.'

'And what about now?' Jaime asked tentatively, and he swallowed slightly.

Brienne's bottom lip quivered slightly as a small smile fell on her face. 'I…I'm not sure, I've never really thought…about it…'

'Hmm,' Jaime murmured, pressing his smiling lips to the top of her head as he rubbed her arm, trying to warm her up from the cold night air.

He hadn't really thought about it himself, not until now. But this past week or so, as he'd seen the smallfolk children run and play during their patrols of winter town, Jaime had found himself imagining what his and Brienne's children would be like. No doubt they would be the best, most honourable fighters of Westeros, and tall and blonde. Fierce and strong, like their mother. Loyal to their family, like their father.

A lump rose to Jaime's throat as he thought of his family now – those he had failed, those he had abandoned – and the image of Myrcella's precious innocent face suddenly flooded to view.

Jaime sighed. 'I…I didn't realise how much I wanted to be a father until the day Myrcella died,' he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. 'I just never got the chance.'

He could vividly remember how Myrcella had wrapped her arms around him in that soft embrace and smiled up at him. 'I'm glad,' she had said. In that one blissful moment Jaime had known the joy of fatherhood for the first time in his life. And then it had all shattered just like that.

'You loved your children. And you were there for them, you did everything you could,' Brienne whispered, stroking his bare chest as she comforted him. 'That sounds like you were a father to me.'

Jaime smiled sadly and leant in to kiss her lips. If only that were true, he thought miserably.

When Brienne slept that night, she dreamt of Tarth, of her and Jaime sat on the beaches and watching the astonishing blue waves crash down before them as they cradled the small gurgling bundle that was in fact their very own child. As Brienne rocked the baby gently, its little hands reached out to hold Jaime's finger, and in that moment the clouds parted ways to allow the sun to shine down on all three of them, and everything was perfect. Her heart ached with longing when Brienne woke the next morning as she gazed over at Jaime, the purple shadows under his eyes looking almost like bruises now that seemed permanently etched into his skin.

He isn't sleeping well again, she thought worriedly. But he will soon. And there will be time to talk about children. When the war is over, there'll be time to talk about everything.

But, despite her determination to keep her thoughts positive, Brienne couldn't help noticing that Jaime seemed rather distracted and forlorn this particularly frosty morning as they set out to work in the courtyard. His mind had been elsewhere since he had woken up; she could see it in his eyes that he was far away from here.

Come back to me, Jaime.

Brienne cleared her throat as they walked on to join Pod. 'I'm missing your brother, you know,' she said. 'No one's ever made me laugh more.'

This seemed to catch Jaime's attention; he turned to her sceptically, his eyebrows raised. 'Really? No one?'

Brienne smiled at him. 'No,' she replied, and Jaime grinned; relief washed over Brienne at the sight. He's back.

'You're quite witty, you know, aren't you?' Jaime said, amused.

'Why do you sound so surprised?' Brienne said, sounding almost insulted.

'Because you weren't before. You had absolutely no personality when I first met you,' Jaime replied.

Brienne frowned. 'That's not true.'

'It is!' he insisted. 'You've grown so much as a person, you know, you really have.'

'Oh, stop it.'

'No really, I'm proud of you,' Jaime said teasingly; he did so love to provoke her.

Brienne glared at him warningly. 'Next you're going to say you believe you 'made me'.'

'Well I certainly helped, wouldn't you say?'

Brienne stared at him for a moment, appalled, and Jaime burst out laughing as she withdrew her sword. 'You know, Jaime, you haven't helped, you have done nothing other than agitate me.'

'Speak for yourself!' Jaime said indignantly, and he took out his sword as well.

Brienne smirked back at him as they got in position across the courtyard, Oathkeeper and Widow's Wail held high. She was looking forward to this; she hadn't enjoyed a good sparring session in a long time.

'You asked for this,' Brienne said warningly, smiling.

Jaime wiggled his eyebrows at her. 'Are you sure you dare?'

'Err, what is happening?'

Brienne jerked her head around; Pod had appeared beside them, looking deeply confused.

'We're having a fight,' she replied casually, a slight air of impatience about her. 'Move out of the way.'

Brienne lunged for Jaime the moment Pod had backed into a corner; Jaime clashed his sword against hers instantly, blocking her. She was impressed to see how well he moved, without his sword hand; she hadn't been able to pay much attention to his skills during the battle against the White Walkers, after all. They both laughed as they danced around each other in the middle of the courtyard, unaware of the fascinated crowd beginning to form around them as steel clashed against steel, sparks flying while they swung their swords hard at each other. Jaime was grateful to be distracted like this from his depressing thoughts of Myrcella and Tommen and the unborn baby that lay in Cersei's womb at this very moment; it was fun and almost therapeutic to do what he had loved doing since his youth. He found himself laughing gleefully as Brienne charged at him.

'What?' Brienne panted, confused.

'You roar like a bloody lion whenever you strike,' Jaime said fondly, still chuckling as he tried to control his breathing. 'It's one of the many things I love about you.'

Brienne stared at him. He hadn't used the word 'love' before. He used her hesitation to his advantage and took the opportunity to strike; she cursed him as she stumbled backwards, taken completely off guard. Roaring, Brienne rushed forward to him with her sword aloft; the swords met in the air and clanged against each other, and the two lovers took a moment to grin at each other before resuming their game, lost in nostalgic memories of the last time they had crossed swords…the last time that had been so remarkably different…

The trickle of the water along the river might have been calming – peaceful, even – if it weren't for the incessant muttering of the exasperated, ragged man stood at its edge. Brienne was beside him staring up at the bridge, deep in thought, but was finding it hard to concentrate. Jaime Lannister was proving much more of a test to her temper than she'd previously anticipated.

'It's a tough decision,' he was saying mockingly, 'take the bridge and risk being seen…or cross the great water-'

'Silence, Kingslayer,' Brienne cut over him, her hand firmly on his shoulder to stop him from trying to move away.

Jaime simply acted as if he hadn't heard her. 'Anyone can see us on the bridge, but cross by water and the current could take us or…I could escape down the river,' he went on, and he glanced around slyly at her.

Brienne raised her eyebrows. 'Good luck,' she said, pulling an unflattering sceptical smile as she continued to survey the bridge from afar.

Her smirk made Jaime smile widely as he turned back to face the river, amused; he was enjoying this. 'It's wonderful to watch you wrestle with these dilemmas. Which will she choose?' he said teasingly.

Brienne rolled her eyes. 'You know, you are without a doubt the most irritating man I have ever had the misfortune to meet.'

'I feel extremely honoured, my lady. Thank you,' Jaime said graciously, bowing his head. 'Allow me to return to the compliment-'

'No, you can shut up,' she snapped, and she grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and marched him on along the riverbed.

Jaime gasped in mock outrage. 'So rude for a lady!'

When he realised that she was taking them towards the bridge, as he'd hoped, Jaime set his mind quickly to work. He had been seeking a chance to attempt his escape for the past couple of days now, and this seemed his best shot – besides, it wasn't likely that she would emerge victorious if Brienne tried to stop him. He would most likely have to kill her if it came to that, which was unfortunate, but necessary. He didn't mean it maliciously, not really; after all, she had said 'good luck' as if it were a challenge, and the smile on her lips had thrilled him. It was an opportunity too good to miss.

Besides, he was fed up of being tied up to a leash like a dog. He was fed up of the manacles digging into his wrists. He was fed up of her caution, her stubbornness, her grumpy mood, her boring conversation. He was fed up of just how slow this was. Without Brienne of Tarth, he'd be able to sneak back to King's Landing at a much quicker rate. And he'd have no miserable, irritating companion that he inexplicably felt an urge to constantly talk to. And he'd still have his pride intact; arriving back to his beloved sister and home having escaped the clutches of his captor had a much better ring to it than being brought through the gates in chains by a woman.

'Up here, my lady? Are you sure?' Jaime asked playfully, as they stepped onto the bridge; he wanted to give her one last chance out of this after all, before he set his (admittedly rather spontaneous) plan in motion.

Brienne stared at him. 'I'm sure, Kingslayer. Walk on,' she said firmly, giving his rope a tug.

Jaime glanced back at her. She was looking rather pasty; her skin and lips were paler than usual, her eyelids heavy, and no wonder – she'd hardly slept ever since Lady Catelyn had released them both from that pen, mainly because she didn't trust Jaime to keep watch at night, and Jaime had already lost count of how many days had passed since then. The poor miserable beast was practically a walking corpse. Jaime might have even been worried for her health and wellbeing, if he weren't so eager to take this opportunity to evade her.

'Gambler at heart,' Jaime said thoughtfully as they began their walk across the bridge. 'Wouldn't have guessed.'

Brienne ignored him as she glanced anxiously around them up and down the river, trying to ensure that they weren't being followed. 'Be quick about it,' she snapped, tugging at his rope yet again as if he were some wild animal in need of control; his nostrils flared irritably.

I need to get out of this.

Once they'd reached the centre of the bridge, Jaime then came to a halt and slumped down to the ground with a heavy groan. 'I need to rest,' he said wearily, his legs sprawled lazily out on the muddy leaf-strewn bridge as he leaned his aching back against the stone wall.

Brienne froze, horrified. 'Get up,' she ordered sharply.

'I have these, you know, on your feet when you walk too far,' Jaime muttered as she paced over to him anxiously, glancing around again to make sure they weren't seen. 'What do you call them?'

'Get up now!' Brienne snapped, her voice growling with anger as she scowled down at him, furious.

Jaime paid no attention to her. 'Corns. I never used to get corns,' he went on.

He was trying to provoke her, Brienne knew that, and she was determined not to give him the satisfaction but still, it was getting increasingly hard not to simply throttle this man – or better still, throw him over the bridge and have done with it.

'Of course I used to ride everywhere, not march around like a common foot soldier wearing the same shit boots for over a year,' Jaime rambled on irritably, and to his relief Brienne then leant down to grab him and hoist him up to his feet. 'This heel is ruined, there's no way-!'

But then he broke off as, with a triumphant groan, he grabbed Brienne's second sword from her sheath with his hand, and ran off to the side. He pivoted to cut himself free from the rope with a single swing of the sword, and his tattered cloak fell to the ground as he turned smugly to face Brienne.

Her jaw jutting out in anger, Brienne pulled out her main sword and held it aloft. This didn't surprise him; she was certainly not one who would be able to let him go without trying to put up as much of a fight as she could manage. Not that he was worried in the slightest. Yes, her skills with a sword were impressive for someone of her gender – he was still reeling from that encounter with the Northmen last week where she had cut all three of them down in less than a minute – but he was Jaime Lannister. She was nothing compared to him.

Jaime smirked as he twirled her sword about in his hands. He'd wanted to surprise her and overpower her. Well he had certainly done just that. Now all he had to do was wound her enough to stop her from following him, and then he could make a run for it. He'd like to avoid killing her if he could; she was only doing her job, after all.

He laughed triumphantly. 'I never understood why some knights felt the need to carry two swords,' he said slyly.

He gasped in wonder at the sword in his hands, savouring the moment of finally being able to carry a weapon after all this time. Even in chains, it still felt glorious. Brienne said nothing, and merely glared at him, watching his every move carefully as she pointed her sword directly at him. She certainly didn't want to mess around, this one.

Very well then, if it's a fight you want, Jaime thought smugly.

He kicked aside his fallen cloak and moved towards her. He couldn't help grinning as he moved around her, testing out her positions. He was very much looking forward to this; he'd been waiting for this moment for far too long. They circled each other almost as if in a waltz, trying out different angles with their swords. Jaime turned his back on her for a moment – after all, he had nothing to fear: he knew he could beat her without a doubt, and he also knew this naïve pitiful excuse of a woman was far too obsessed with the concept of 'honour' to even think of stabbing him in the back – but when he tried to catch her off guard by swivelling back around to face her with his sword, she didn't even flinch and simply adjusted her footing to meet him.

'Ooh!' Jaime said, impressed, as they continued to slowly, cautiously dance around each other. 'You move well…-'

He knew he ought not to compliment her in such circumstances, but she deserved it; she was watching him closely as she waited for Jaime to strike, and adjusted the placement of her feet and sword effectively in order to counter his movements. She was a trained warrior, he could see that. It only made Jaime more eager to get on with it. And so he did.

'-…for a great beast of a woman.'

And then he lurched forwards. Their swords clashed and sprang apart a few times before he stopped to smirk at her.

'You shouldn't grimace before you lunge, it gives away the game,' he advised, before launching at her again.

His air of unbearable arrogance was what encouraged Brienne to fight stronger than she had ever done before. Jaime was surprised; she was coming at him hard with her ferocious slashes and skilled manoeuvres, but he had no doubt that he would be able to defeat her. She was a woman, after all.

And yet steel continued to ring on steel as they went to and fro along the bridge, both of them yelling and growling as they lunged and jabbed with their swords, only managing to clash against each other's weapon but never quite able to reach the other's body. It had turned into a sort of dance almost as they pivoted around each other, diving here and there to avoid each other's strikes.

Jaime grinned breathlessly at her as she stopped and waiting for him to attack, feeling scared but determined. 'Bit of a quandary for you – if you kill me, you fail Lady Stark…but if you don't kill me…I'm going to kill you,' he said, making his decision on the spot – after all, with her fighting him like this, what other choice did he have but to kill her? – and with a groan he lunged forwards again.

Brienne couldn't help but be amazed by Jaime's skills. He was a broken man who had been chained up for over a year with hardly any food or drink, and his hands were still in chains. And yet here he was, relentlessly slashing away at Brienne with the sword he had stolen from her, and coming extremely close to overcoming her. No wonder he was one of the most skilled swordsmen in all of Westeros.

But Brienne knew her own skill and value. And she knew that this man was not quite skilled enough to defeat her.

Jaime found himself alarmed as his sword clanged against hers, and she pushed him and his weapon away with her sheer strength. 'You're good,' he panted, his voice strained as he struggled to keep her sword at bay. 'Graceless…but good.'

This was an understatement, and they both knew it. Brienne wasn't just good; Jaime was astonished to see that she was his equal.

To his astonishment, Brienne somehow then managed to strike his sword away and with a thump she knocked him to the side. He fell against the stone wall of the bridge and glanced around, eyes wide, as Brienne marched towards him, her head and sword held high, her expression burning with fury and determination. He came at her again, but she kicked him away, knocking the wind out of him. They paused as he straightened up, and Jaime stared at her in bemusement.

'See? If you were willing to hurt me, you might have had me there,' he taunted.

Perhaps she had fond feelings for him. Perhaps they both hated each other a little too much. They were both capable of stabbing the other with the point of their sword, they just couldn't bring themselves to do it. And Jaime's chances of being able to go ahead with something he had already been somewhat reluctant to do were decreasing rapidly; his legs were weak and failing him as he stumbled back towards her with his sword.

He charged at her angrily, determined not to let his manacled hands and months of malnourishment hold him back from an outcome he had been so blissfully self-assured about until now. It took a few more clashes of their swords and thumps from Brienne for Jaime to come to the reluctant conclusion that he wasn't going to win this. With every second, Brienne grew more confident, reassured with the knowledge now that Jaime seemed to no longer have the notorious skill of the paramount swordsman he was famed for being. Indeed, he was beginning to tire, and Brienne was only further wearing him down with her kicks and punches and effortless swings of her sword.

She soon had him knocked against the wall again, and they pointed their swords right at each other's faces, Jaime panting heavily as he struggled to keep upright while Brienne simply stared down at him, unimpressed, with an expression that said, 'are you quite finished?'

She's stronger than me. The realisation frightened him.

Forcing himself to straighten up, Jaime then launched himself from the wall at her, determined to see this through. He couldn't give up. He couldn't yield. Not to her. Not when he had been so sure that this plan would work. Not when he'd had it all worked out. This couldn't be where it all went wrong, it couldn't be.

Brienne punched him roughly as he lost his footing; Jaime collapsed to the stone wall again as she smacked her sword down beside him and scraped it against the wall, and then suddenly she was marching at him, forcing him to back away in fright as she met his sword with strike after strike, as if it were nothing. While Jaime only grew weaker and more exhausted, Brienne seemed to grow stronger. It was unbelievable.

He had started this with the full intention and expectation of fighting like the lion that he was, but instead she had broken his resistance and reduced him to a mere lamb in this fight, and now he was on the brink of surrendering. He couldn't win this fight against her. Lady Brienne of Tarth was beating him. So why did a part of him secretly like it?

Brienne yelled out fiercely as she threw him off balance and Jaime's knees gave way. She gave one last dismissive flourish of her sword and Jaime finally slumped to the ground in exhaustion, defeated.

Shocked and mortified, his body weak and aching all over, Jaime struggled to look up at her from the ground to see that her sword was still held aloft, but her eyes were no longer on him; they were on the opposite side of the bridge. His face fell at her expression, realising that this couldn't mean anything good. And then he heard the neigh of horses and clatter of hooves. He jerked his head back in alarm in time to see the group of men ride onto the bridge.

The moment he saw their armour and weapons, Jaime scrambled unsteadily up to his feet, clutching the sword, and instinctively moved to step in front of Brienne so that he could put himself between her and the approaching soldiers.

The man on the white horse at the front – the leader of the group, Jaime supposed – raised his eyebrows mockingly at Jaime as they came to a halt. 'Looks like your woman's getting the better of you,' he said, 'if you can call that a woman.'

Jaime forced a smile. 'We enjoy a good fight. Gets our juices flowing,' he said brightly.

He was trying to keep calm as his mind worked relentlessly on how best he and Brienne could get out of this situation, but he was coming up short. He could practically hear the cogs whirring in Brienne's mind beside him as well as she continued to hold her sword up defensively towards the intruders. But it was hopeless. They had been cornered, good and proper, and Jaime only had himself to blame.

He eyed the sigil on the flag that one of the soldiers was holding up. 'The Flayed Man of House Bolton,' he said distastefully, realising that these were Northern men. 'A bit gruesome for my taste.'

'You sure he's the one?' the leader on the white horse asked.

One of the soldiers then brought forward the old peasant man that Jaime and Brienne had seen earlier this morning in the woods. The man Brienne had refused to kill.

'That's him, all right,' the old man confirmed. 'I saw him fight at the tourney for Ser Willem Frey's wedding.'

Jaime slowly turned back to glare hatefully at Brienne while the soldiers paid the man his silver.

'Innocent, my arse', Jaime had wanted to snarl at her this morning, when she'd led them firmly away from the old man's departing figure.

Brienne's angry scowl had disappeared; she looked almost ashamed. Jaime had been right, after all. She looked back at him helplessly. What could they do now?

Jaime turned back to the soldiers heavily. 'Let us go and my father will pay you whatever you want,' he promised.

'Enough to buy me a new head?' the leader said sceptically, and Jaime gave him a questioning look. 'If the King in the North hears I had the Kingslayer and let him go, he'll be taking it right off. I'd rather he takes yours.'

Jaime sighed in defeat as the soldiers then slowly backed him and Brienne along down the bridge.

'Put the sword down, you fool,' Jaime muttered to Brienne. 'We're outnumbered.'

She did so, albeit reluctantly.

Once they had reached the other side of the bridge, the soldiers found a clearing at the edge of the woods, and came to a stop. The leader of the group introduced himself as Locke whilst his men took Brienne's swords from both of them. Jaime merely sighed; he had only tasted a glimpse of freedom for merely a few minutes, and even then his hands had still been chained…and now he was back to being someone's captive.

Brienne was also extremely disheartened. She couldn't stop thinking about that old man. It seemed, from the furious glare on Jaime's face as he looked at her, that neither could he.

'If you're going to say, 'I told you so', you really needn't bother,' Brienne said to him agitatedly.

'I wasn't. Quite frankly, I don't want to say anything to you anymore,' Jaime spat.

'Well that makes a nice change,' Brienne muttered, surprised by how stung she was by his comment.

They remained in silence while Locke and his men discussed in lowered voices what their plan was for their new captives over the next few days. When they brought out two ropes, one for each of them, the panic then began to set in as Jaime realised that they were not intending to disregard Brienne and simply leave her behind, as he had foolishly hoped.

Jaime feigned a groan. 'Must you really bring her? She's dreadfully boring, trust me,' he said loudly to the soldiers, glancing over at Brienne with a knowing look. 'Just let her go, she's more trouble than she's worth.'

'Oh you'd like that, wouldn't you?' Locke said, raising his eyebrows at Jaime as he looked at them both. 'Let your mistress go so she can go running for help.'

Actually, he wanted him to let Brienne go because he could already tell that these soldiers were not going to be the friendliest when it came to their treatment of women, and he wanted Brienne out of harms' way. But Jaime was not about to admit that to anyone, not to Locke, especially not to Brienne, and not even fully to himself.

'I'm not his mistress,' Brienne said, sounding repulsed by the mere thought.

'Gods, no,' Jaime interjected, also disgusted at the idea.

'Then I'm sure you won't object if we take her armour,' Locke said, smirking at Jaime.

A lump rose in Jaime's throat. 'Why is that necessary?' he asked, as he glanced at Brienne and saw the panic in her eyes.

Jaime didn't know Brienne that well, but he did know that she only ever felt comfortable with her armour on. Even over the past few nights when she'd tried to get some rest, she'd kept it on. She couldn't be without her armour, not a woman like Brienne, not surrounded by men like these.

But Locke merely thumped Jaime hard in the face; Brienne flinched, as if she hadn't done the very same thing during their swordfight merely minutes ago. 'First rule – don't ask questions,' Locke snapped at him.

Jaime looked to Brienne. 'Take it off,' he said in a low voice.

Brienne's nostrils flared. 'I won't-'

'Please. For your own sake,' he muttered urgently, shocking Brienne into silence. 'Take the armour off.'

Hesitating, Brienne then reluctantly began to remove her suit of armour. She was clumsy and unpractised; Jaime wanted to help her, if only to save her the embarrassment of having to strip herself of her main source of protection in front of this group of intimidating laughing men, but his hands were still in manacles. Eventually, Locke lost patience and instructed some of his soldiers to remove it for her. Brienne's expression was empty of all emotion as she stepped out of the suit and watched the soldiers discard her armour and swords in the river. Despite how angry he was at her for letting that old man walk free this morning, Jaime couldn't help feeling an ache of pity for her. That armour and those weapons were all she had, they were the identity she clung onto. Now she had nothing.

Locke then sauntered up to them both. 'Now, this is going to be a fun trip isn't it?' he said, leering at his new captives. 'And even better – we've found you a horse to share.'

Jaime and Brienne turned around to look at each other, full of dread. This was going to be even worse than they'd thought.

~ Present Day ~

The clash of swords ended on a triumphant note for Brienne as she pinned Jaime down to the ground, a smug smile on her face as she looked down on her opponent. Their faces were so close and his gaze so smouldering, he almost looked like he wanted to devour her there and then.

'Yield,' Jaime muttered with a roll of his eyes.

Suddenly conscious that she was straddling him in front of a huge crowd of onlookers, Brienne clambered ungracefully to her feet and then helped Jaime up. Once stood, he moved closer to her than necessary and his hand lingered in hers before they released their hold of each other, panting deeply and high on adrenaline from the rush of their swordfight, before turning to look around at everyone assembled. The two of them couldn't help wondering if perhaps they were alienating others around them as they took in the looks of confusion and suspicion and disapproval on everyone's faces. No one seemed to appreciate the fun they were having, or how they were embracing this rare moment of happiness. And yet, inexplicably, neither of them cared.

The moment the crowd had dispersed, Jaime took Brienne by the arm and guided her over through a small archway in the corner of the courtyard, and pushed her against the wall so that they were hidden in the shadows before kissing her passionately, his tongue opening her mouth further as his hands clutched at her face and hers tangled in his hair.

When they eventually broke apart, they were both panting just as deeply as they had immediately after their swordfight. They stayed like that for a moment, their foreheads against each other's as they resumed normal breathing, both of them unable to stop smiling.

'I didn't know it could be like this,' Brienne said quietly.

'Neither did I,' Jaime said softly as he stroked her cheek.

They looked at each other then, both their gazes overcome with emotion. They were so consumed in each other, so in love. If only they could just freeze time.

Brienne cleared her throat nervously. 'Err…by the way, I forgot to mention yesterday…do you fancy going to the inn tonight for a few drinks?' she asked hopefully. 'I said I'd go with Pod and Lady Sansa…'

Jaime grinned. 'Are you acting as chaperone?'

Brienne looked alarmed. 'I-I'm not sure…that's not how Lady Sansa put it, but now you say that I-'

'Let's not be suspicious just yet. And good on the lad for setting his sights high, I say,' Jaime said approvingly, and they both chuckled. 'Yes of course I'll come with you tonight, I'd very much enjoy it. If you're sure Lady Sansa won't mind,' he added hastily, with a doubtful frown.

'She won't. I already asked,' Brienne admitted, her cheeks colouring, and Jaime returned her smile as he leant in and kissed her lips once more.

So that night found Jaime, Brienne, Pod and Lady Sansa sat together around a rickety table at the winter town inn, trying to avoid the stunned looks from the regular visitors there at the sight of the grand lady of Winterfell in their midst. Brienne had asked Sansa if she had been sure about coming here, but Sansa had insisted – she wanted a change of scenery, after having stayed in the castle for so long, and she wanted to distract herself from worrying constantly about the lack of news from Jon and the rest of the force who had departed for the capital.

Brienne was burning to know whether it had been Sansa or Pod who had suggested this outing, but didn't dare ask; she didn't want to embarrass either of them, and she wasn't sure if Sansa perhaps realised that Pod's admiration of her went somewhat beyond that of a normal resident at Winterfell. He'd held a soft spot for Sansa ever since they had found her in the snowy woods that day, Brienne suspected, and she could tell from the way his hands were twitching and the constant darting of his eyes that he believed tonight to be his chance. Sansa, on the other hand, was another story – Brienne had never much been able to read Sansa when it came to her impressions of men who took an interest in her. She wondered if Pod would be an exception.

While the two men went to fetch the drinks, Sansa leaned across the table towards Brienne. 'Thank you for accompanying us tonight, Brienne,' she said gratefully. 'Pod and I were both discussing how we wanted to get out of the castle for a bit, but…well, I feel more comfortable with you here. It's been a while since I…well, since I cared about how I spoke to a man and how I might…'

She trailed off awkwardly but Brienne shook her head with a reassuring smile. 'It's my pleasure, my lady,' Brienne said warmly. 'And Ser Jaime's.'

'I don't mind saying I'm glad he's here as well,' Sansa said, glancing over at Jaime by the bar counter as he threw his head back in laughter at something Pod had said. 'You've come to life since he arrived here, Brienne. I've never seen you this joyful.'

'I've always been very content while in your service, my lady.'

'I know that,' Sansa reassured her, smiling. 'But falling in love has changed your spirit. And it's lovely to see.'

Brienne smiled humbly as she looked down at her lap. 'Thank you, my lady.'

'Ser Jaime seems to be…a changed man, as well. Considerably changed since he last came to Winterfell all those years ago,' Sansa said thoughtfully, giving Jaime a rather calculating look.

'I believe so, yes.'

Sansa turned back to Brienne and smiled. 'I've never seen a man look at anyone the way he looks at you. You've truly enchanted him, Brienne,' she said, leaving Brienne dazed, and then Sansa began to laugh to herself. 'You know, I remember the very first day I saw him. I was only a young girl, it was when King Robert came to stay at Winterfell. And there he was…Jaime Lannister. All the women were fawning all over him.'

'That doesn't surprise me,' Brienne said with a flicker of his eyebrows.

'Well no, he's always been a very handsome man, hasn't he? But he did look ridiculous when I first saw him,' Sansa said disdainfully.

Brienne frowned, surprised. 'How so?' she asked, intrigued.

'His hair. It was so stupid. At the time, I thought he just looked very…majestic, I suppose, but…it was much lighter than it is now, and it was so long and wavy,' Sansa said, almost in disgust, and Brienne beamed at her incredulously, deeply amused. 'It's like he'd had a handmaiden spend hours on it trying to make him look pretty.'

Brienne began to chuckle. 'Oh, I wish I'd seen that, my lady. Now every time I look at him with his normal hair, he'll just be a huge disappointment,' she said, as they both laughed.

'Who's this?'

They turned around; Jaime had appeared behind them along with Pod, carrying their drinks. The two women burst out into fits of laughter again.

'Laughing at my expense? Surely not,' Jaime said with a twitch of his lips, sitting down with them as Pod took his seat beside Sansa. 'Now…Pod had a splendid idea of playing a game or two while we're here.'

'A game?' Sansa said, raising her eyebrows as she took a sip of her drink. 'Am I finally about to find out what you three were getting up to with Tyrion on the night of the feast?'

'Possibly,' Pod said playfully, and Brienne grinned at them both.

'You know, speaking of games, that reminds me,' Jaime said, and he winked at Brienne mischievously before turning to Sansa, 'Brienne did an astounding impression of your brother Jon the other evening, Lady Sansa.'

Sansa raised her eyebrows and smiled at Brienne. 'An impression?'

'Yes, she mimicked his voice. Very accurately, as well. I was impressed,' Jaime said, and he turned to Brienne and barely refrained from flinching at the look on her face. 'Show them, Brienne.'

'I will not,' she said firmly, looking mortified, and Sansa and Pod began to laugh.

'Oh go on-'

'Only if you show them your pathetic attempt as well,' Brienne interrupted him, smirking knowingly at Jaime.

Jaime's eyes widened as he remembered how appalling his own impression had been the other evening…so appalling in fact that it had taken Brienne a good five minutes to calm down her laughter. 'Ugh, fine, you win,' he said in defeat, taking a large swig of his ale.

'No surprises there,' Pod muttered, grinning.

While a deeply amused Sansa leant over to Pod to speak to him in a lowered voice, Brienne turned to Jaime with a stern smile on her face. 'You enjoy making me uneasy, don't you?' she said.

Jaime grinned. 'Perhaps a little,' he said affectionately, and he reached for her hand under the table and squeezed it.

The rest of the evening passed in a blaze of drinking and laughter as all four of them played Tyrion's notorious game. Sansa picked up the rules rather quickly, and for such a refined lady she played rather well; it certainly allowed her to let her hair down for once anyway, something which she immensely enjoyed. As they all got steadily tipsier, she even began to tentatively flirt with Pod, something none of them had been expecting.

When it was Brienne's turn, she was determined to put Jaime on the spot; she enjoyed seeing him flounder, particularly in front of Pod and Sansa. It made him even more endearing.

'You…once told me that I was as boring as I am ugly,' she said towards the end of the night, grinning smugly at Jaime.

'I did not!' Jaime protested, as Sansa and Pod gasped at Jaime in horror.

'You did!' Brienne said, almost gleefully.

'Wait, did I really say that?!' he said, aghast.

'Yes, you did!' Brienne said, and to Jaime's utter bemusement, she was roaring with laughter. 'Drink!'

Rolling his eyes, Jaime took another large gulp of his ale. 'Oh, seven hells, I'm so sorry, Brian, I didn't mean it, truly-'

'Excuse me, did you just call her 'Brian'?' Lady Sansa interrupted, laughing.

'N-no, I'd never do that,' Jaime said at once, his eyes nearly popping in embarrassment.

But Brienne was clapping triumphantly as she laughed. 'You did! You just called me 'Brian'!'

'It was an accident!' Jaime insisted beseechingly, the ale spilling from his tankard. 'I'm tired, I'm too drunk to form words!'

But Brienne hugged him fiercely, unable to stop laughing, to reassure him that all was well and that he had no need to apologise, though she let go of him rather quickly, remembering all too late that there were other people still there in the inn watching their fun little group curiously.

They departed the inn not too long after that, exhausted from the amusing game and having drunk their fair share, and the four of them made their way slowly up to the castle. As they stumbled and slipped up the icy road, Jaime and Brienne huddled up to each other underneath Brienne's big fur cloak to keep warm in the freezing night air, and sure enough Sansa soon offered the same treatment to Pod as she wrapped her cloak to cover them both. Once they were back at the castle, Jaime and Brienne left Pod to escort Lady Sansa back to her chambers – Brienne offered to do it herself, but Sansa insisted that she would only need Pod tonight – and so soon they were back in their familiar, cosy room, the fire already roaring in its hearth awaiting their return.

'I like us,' Jaime said abruptly, as he sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off his boots.

'I'm sorry, what did you say?' Brienne asked, trying not to laugh; she did enjoy it when Jaime had had quite a bit to drink.

'I like us, Brienne. Me and you.'

'Well that's very sweet of you, Jaime, I like us too,' Brienne said, smiling fondly at him as she removed her fur cloak. 'Now let's get to bed, it's late.'

'Wait. I don't just like it. You know that, don't you?' Jaime said, rising to his feet and crossing the room to take both her hands in his. 'I've been wanting to say it for a while, but I…I'm not as brave as I thought, and I was waiting for the right moment-'

'And you think now is the right moment?' Brienne interrupted him sceptically, and she gave him a sharp look.

Jaime hesitated; the room was spinning slightly. 'Perhaps not.'

Brienne smirked. 'I agree. Don't worry, Jaime. There's no rush. We've got all the time in the world,' she murmured, stroking his hair, and Jaime smiled uneasily at her, though his eyes lowered sadly to the floor.

'What is it?' Brienne asked, concerned.

'N-nothing,' Jaime said, forcing himself to look back at her, and he put on a bracing smile. 'Actually, you know what? There is something.'

Brienne raised her eyebrows. 'Oh dear.'

'You've danced with Renly Baratheon.'

Brienne tilted her head at him, confused. 'Is that a problem?' she asked, frowning in bemusement.

'Yes it is,' Jaime said decisively. 'He's the only man you've ever danced with.'

'I have a very bad feeling I know where you're going with this,' Brienne said warily, and sure enough, Jaime held his hand out to her.

'May I have the honour, my lady?' he asked, smiling.

Smirking, Brienne reached out and took his hand. 'But there's no music,' she murmured, frowning at him curiously as he led her into the centre of their bedchambers.

Jaime merely shrugged as he put his golden hand on her waist. 'We'll make our own.'

He held her close as they slowly started to sway on the spot, his fingers stroking Brienne's as he nuzzled his forehead against hers, and then after a few moments began to hum a slow waltz-like version of 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair'.

Brienne scoffed. 'Oh, really?'

'What?' Jaime said, grinning. 'I've grown fond of the song.'

'Well you're terrible at singing it.'

'That's only because you're not joining in with the harmony, now come on…'

She laughed as he twirled her around before bringing her right up to his chest and holding her there, his forehead against hers, his smile tender and loving as he continued to hum the song.

'Isn't it weird, dancing with a woman who's slightly taller than you?' she asked quietly.

'Not really,' Jaime murmured. 'I actually quite like it.'

Brienne smiled and brought her lips to his as they continued to dance there slowly on the spot, lost in each other for one blissful moment.

But it wasn't long after when the nightmares came.

Jaime couldn't breathe. He had been running for so long, and yet it was already too late. She was being ripped apart by three White Walkers, all in the mangled forms of Cersei, Aerys and Locke. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

'Brienne, no! Brienne!' Jaime cried out, running to try and save her.

His knees buckled as he tried to reach her, and fell to the ground…only to see the crisp, burned remains of a tiny baby lying at his feet. Trembling, he looked up to see Cersei looming over him, only this time she wasn't a wight tearing at the flesh of poor Brienne. Her hair fell in long ringlets down her shoulders and she wore dress robes of Lannister red, and tears fell down her cheeks as she gazed down upon her pitiful disappointment of a brother.

'Another one of your children dead…this is your fault…you abandoned us…' she whispered disdainfully at him.

Jaime whimpered tearfully up at her. 'No, I never meant-' But then he broke off as Cersei swept to the side to reveal the blood-stained body of Brienne of Tarth, lying spread-eagled on the ground ahead of him, her eyes open and glassy, the shine from their blue having gone out.

'NO!'

Jaime woke with a start and sat upright in bed, gasping unsteadily. Brienne sat up as well at once, trying to comfort him. Her eyes widened in horror; he was shaking and dripping with sweat.

'It's all right, Jaime, it's all right…it was just a dream, you're safe,' Brienne said to him urgently, cupping his face in her hands and pressing her lips to his forehead.

'Oh!'

An uncontrollable noise that seemed to be a strange mixture of both relief and distress escaped his mouth as Jaime reached desperately for Brienne, and he held her tightly in his arms as she soothed him.

He never wanted to let go. Never.

By the time he'd managed to fall back to sleep, dawn had already broken. When he awoke a few hours later, he found the bed empty; a breakfast tray lay on the table in the room with a note from Brienne saying that she hadn't wanted to wake him. Jaime smiled fondly, then shuddered as he remembered his nightmare, and the look of fear and worry on Brienne's face as she'd tried desperately to calm him down.

This has to stop, he thought. It can't go on like this.

Once he had eaten, washed and dressed, he headed outside, knowing he'd find Brienne out in the courtyard. And sure enough, there she was…only she wasn't alone.

'You and the Kingslayer are practically stuck to one another, have you no shame? He's a Lannister!'

Jaime's lips parted as he watched Brienne glare defiantly back at the northern soldier and his wife who had come to interrogate her. They were so preoccupied with each other that none of them had noticed that Jaime had emerged in the corner of the courtyard.

'My lord, Ser Jaime has proven himself loyal to the Starks, I'd have thought his efforts in the battle against the White Walkers would have been sufficient enough evidence of that,' Brienne said sharply. 'I make no apologies for spending time with him, and quite frankly, it's none of your business anyway.'

'You're not just spending time with him, though, you're lying with him,' the soldier's wife said accusingly.

Brienne frowned, confused. 'I am an honest person, I do not lie, and neither does Ser Jaime-'

'She meant you're sleeping with him,' the soldier cut over her with a roll of his eyes, as Jaime watched on anxiously.

'Oh,' Brienne said, blinking rapidly. 'Well yes, that is true.'

Jaime felt his lips part into an astonished half-smile as he gazed over at her in shock. The soldier and his wife were staring at her in horror and disgust but Brienne looked completely unperturbed as she looked back at them both.

'And you can just say it like that? That you and the Kingslayer are-'

'His name is Ser Jaime, do not call him 'Kingslayer' again or you will severely regret it,' Brienne said warningly. 'And yes, he and I are courting and sharing a bedchamber. What of it?'

'How can you stand it? A whore to the Kingslayer…where's your honour?' the soldier said in disgust, and he spat at her.

Brienne moved to punch him but Jaime got there first; he'd crossed over to them in merely a few strides and slapped him so hard with his golden hand that the soldier went falling to the ground, blood pouring everywhere. His wife cried out in horror as she knelt down to her sobbing husband, but Jaime barely noticed; his eyes were only for Brienne.

She gazed back at him, breathing deeply as a soft smile began to form on her lips as she took in his expression.

Brienne had been so certain ever since her youth that her life would be spent alone, and she'd pretended not to care. She'd even done a very good job of convincing herself for a while that she was fine with it. But then Jaime had come along and saved her from that bear, and protected her and cared for her wounds and sorrows on their journey back from Harrenhal, and been her constant support and friend through her grief and loneliness at the capital. He had won her heart long before she had realised it, but now he was beside her, pure and unashamed of his affections for her, and Brienne was relieved to see that the cold-hearted, sour, unfeeling persona that she had taken on back when they had first met had disappeared completely. No more need for the show of a heart of stone; he had stripped that from her, leaving her bare and open-hearted and truly herself for once.

And Jaime saw truly then that she wasn't ashamed or embarrassed or full of regret, and she never could be. She was proud to be with Jaime, and didn't want to conceal her love for him any longer.

Neither of them was sure who made the first move, but before they knew it their lips had met fervently, their arms around each other, as if suddenly in this moment both of them had reached a silent agreement that they no longer cared about keeping this secret. It didn't matter anymore. Why should they hide it, after all?

When they broke apart, the courtyard had fallen silent all around them – even the wailing soldier and his wife had been stunned into silence. Jaime and Brienne smiled at each other.

'Good morning,' he murmured, trying to ignore the astonished stares of everyone watching them.

'Good morning,' Brienne replied, almost smugly.

Pod then gave a little appreciative cheer from the side, making both Jaime and Brienne chuckle softly as they looked around to find him. There were a great number of people there, some of whom looked appalled, while others looked amused and some even pleased. Pod stood out easily amongst them all; he was beaming ecstatically. Sansa was stood close beside him trying to smile at Brienne, but it didn't quite meet her eyes; there was an anxious crease on her forehead. But Brienne could ignore that easily – after all, the way Sansa and Pod's arms were touching was far more interesting to Brienne than any unnecessary concern Sansa might have over her and Jaime's relationship.

Removing her hands from Jaime's shoulders, Brienne then looked down at the pitiful soldier with the broken nose still lying on the ground beside his wife, who had grown suddenly humble and ashamed. The soldier looked up into Brienne's eyes, and saw then that he didn't have the power to offend her; no one did. Satisfied, Brienne then took hold of Jaime's hand and led him away back into the castle in full view of everyone, no longer afraid of being seen.

'Where are we going?' he asked her curiously, bemused.

'Where do you think?' Brienne said, taking him up the stone steps.

Jaime grinned; he should have learnt by now that nothing worked better on Brienne's lust than a demonstration of his chivalry. Leaving behind their woes and fears and the half-baffled half-impressed crowd outside, they both headed back to their bedchambers and stumbled backwards into their room while laughing in-between kisses, safe with the knowledge that no one would ever dare to call Brienne of Tarth 'the Kingslayer's whore' again.