Based on events during Episode 4 of GoT Season 8

(Also includes flashback based on events between Episodes 4x05-6x07 of GoT)

'I need to go, I'm already late.'

'Just a few more minutes.'

'But Lady Sansa-'

'Lady Sansa can wait her turn.'

Brienne laughed as Jaime planted kisses all along her face and neck, her bare legs entangled around his under the fur covers. Rays of morning sunlight streamed through the frosted-over window, illuminating the grey in Jaime's hair and beard, and the fading bruises on Brienne's face.

Brienne smiled irresistibly at him as he stroked her arm and kissed her neck. 'You can be so irritating sometimes.'

'Feel free to kick me out of your bed whenever you like,' Jaime murmured, almost seductively, and Brienne chuckled.

'I still can't believe that we're…' She trailed off, not quite sure how to finish the sentence.

'I know,' Jaime murmured fondly, intertwining their fingers as he gazed at her. 'It feels like we should have been doing this the whole time we've known each other. Gods, I was a blind fool back when we first met.'

'So was I.'

'I'm not used to being this…happy all the time,' Jaime said thoughtfully, pressing his lips to her hand. 'It's strange.'

'It is. I wish we could stay like this forever,' Brienne whispered.

Jaime smiled; never before had a statement been truer for him. 'So do I. Is this what it feels like for all couples, do you think?'

'What what feels like?' Brienne asked.

'Love.'

Brienne's lips parted into a soft smile as she gazed at him, stunned, and he smiled back. Before she had time to respond, however, there then came a hesitant knock at the door.

'Err, milady?'

Brienne groaned. 'What is it, Pod?' she called from the bed.

'Forgive me, but Lady Sansa's asking to see you,' Pod replied from the other side of the door, his tone guilty.

Jaime rolled his eyes. 'Can't you put her off a little longer with your special skills?' he asked irritably.

'I-I-I…'

Jaime cut over Pod's stammering with a laugh. 'It's all right, Pod, I was merely jesting. She'll be out in a minute,' he called back.

'Right you are, Ser Jaime,' Pod said, and they listened as he hurried away down the corridor.

'Still seems rather strange for him to find you in my bed, poor man, he's absolutely mortified,' Brienne said, as she sat up in bed, and she turned to Jaime with raised eyebrows. 'Also 'special skills'? Do I even want to know what that means?'

Jaime grimaced as he sat up too. 'Probably best if you don't. Or you can ask Tyrion when we see him again.'

'If we see him again,' he should have said, but neither of them wanted to dwell on that.

Brienne smiled as she leaned in to touch her lips briefly to his. 'I'll see you later,' she said warmly.

She got up and dressed quickly, but Jaime managed to drag her back over to the bed for one last kiss before she had to leave. The moment she'd shut their door behind her, Jaime flopped back onto the bed with a smile on his face and sighed, content.

He was still getting used to the fact that he was finally in a relationship that he didn't have to hide or be ashamed of. He could leave their bedchambers in the morning without having to skulk in the shadows. He could touch Brienne's hand and kiss her cheek in the presence of others, not just in secluded hidden corners of the castle. He could be open and true, for once. And it was glorious.

The scandalised gossip of their public love affair soon became yesterday's news as people became accustomed to the new modern acceptance that seemed to come with Jaime and Brienne's romantic behaviour around one another. With Brienne now having officially replaced Jon Snow as the military commander of Winterfell, her authority seemed to automatically prevent the Northern lords and soldiers for thinking any less of her for openly sleeping with a man whilst unmarried. Meanwhile the women of Winterfell would simply gaze at her with either envy or bewilderment, their opinions on the mysterious Maid of Tarth having vastly improved. Brienne sometimes even enjoyed the indulgent smiles they gave her, as if they were saying 'well done' for managing to win the heart of the man famed for being the most good-looking in all of Westeros.

It had been exciting while their relationship had been secret, but strangely it was just as fun now that everyone knew, although Brienne couldn't take it seriously anymore when Jaime kept deliberately calling her 'Ser Brienne' in front of people, not when he spoke those words regularly while in between their bed sheets. It made her blush furiously to hear him address her that way in daylight, which only amused Jaime, thereby encouraging him to carry on. Not that she was any better at keeping their public behaviour appropriate – one evening she even led Jaime into the public bathhouse, and, after seeing that it was empty, she'd barred the door and they had made love there and then in the steaming water of the tub.

It thrilled Brienne to act so impulsively and recklessly in this way, but it thrilled Jaime just as much to simply have an ordinary life here in Winterfell, with a routine of work during the day and evenings filled with food and drink and laughter. Domestic life had never been Jaime's style before, but right now, as he stayed by Brienne's side and watched her work and fight and train and smile and meet his gaze, he knew he wanted to dedicate every mundane, meaningless day here in the dreary North solely to Brienne.

Brienne had come into his life and had had such an impact on him that he'd been changed forever as a person. And Jaime knew he would never be able to repay her for all that good she had done him. The intensity and strength of their connection that had only kept building over these past few years left Jaime overwhelmed with joy and hope. He had grown from the arrogant, ruthless warrior he had once prided himself on being, and he had come to deal with his wrongdoings and made amendments for his horrific acts of the past by coming to Winterfell. And he had learnt to love another woman. A wonderful, honourable, good woman. A woman he did not deserve.

Even as the days slowly turned to weeks, Jaime still couldn't believe his uncommonly good fortune. He knew that the best thing he would ever do was love Brienne. He just hoped that this knowledge was enough to help him fight back against the anguished voices in his head and the mental images of Bronn's challenging leer, Tyrion's concerned frown, Cersei's furious glare…

But still, even though he managed to keep them at bay as best as he could during his waking moments, the voices and faces didn't stay away in his dreams. For most nights, Jaime tried to avoid giving into his tiredness and simply lay in their bed staring up at the ceiling, trying not to shiver as the guilt and fear overwhelmed him; in those moments, he would reach out and take Brienne's hand while she slept and her fingers would squeeze his subconsciously, helping him hold on. Yet Jaime did not fool Brienne each morning when they rose for breakfast; the shadows under his eyes were only deepening as time went on, and while she pretended to sleep she could feel him twist and turn in the night, letting out anguished sighs before pulling her into his arms. He was a man in a storm, and she was his shelter. But as the days went by, Brienne couldn't help wondering if her shelter would be enough to keep him protected, or if it would simply crumble into pieces and leave him open to attack at any moment.

It seemed that Brienne wasn't the only one beginning to notice the tired, uneasy expression that occasionally flickered on Jaime's face from time to time. During one particularly frosty day, Lady Sansa asked Jaime for a word in her study. Jaime wasn't in the slightest bit worried…at least until he sat down opposite her desk and took in the cold, calculating look in her eyes.

'Ser Jaime, I hope you don't mind but I'm just going to get straight to the point,' Sansa said, and she exhaled deeply. 'What exactly are your intentions with Ser Brienne?'

Jaime stared at her, perplexed. 'My lady?'

'She told me not long after she first came into my service that you've treated her honourably in the past. But…I must confess your recent behaviour rather…contradictory to her previous assessment,' Sansa said, her brow creased, and Jaime suddenly felt rather nauseous. 'It's no secret that Brienne came to Winterfell a…an unmarried maiden of noble birth…and…well…you two have caused a bit of a scandal.'

'Believe me, my lady, I've discussed this matter with her many times. But Brienne is…well, she's never really been one to bother about what other people think of her,' Jaime said, a hint of a font smile on his lips. 'Truth to be told, we were already used to gossip and rumours regarding our relationship many years ago when she returned me to King's Landing.'

'Only now when they call you 'the lovers', that's no longer just a rumour, is it?' Sansa said coolly, watching him.

There was a flustered silence.

Sansa rolled her eyes exasperatedly as she sat back in her chair. 'Please, Ser Jaime, it's not exactly like either of you have made any effort in hiding it. You made a very public demonstration of your relationship two weeks ago. You both openly discuss how you share Brienne's bedchambers now, and you were both seen coming out of the bathhouse together the other night,' she said sharply, causing Jaime to grimace and blush. 'Not to mention how the pair of you cling to each other's side every moment of every day like adolescents on the brink of becoming engaged.'

Jaime looked down awkwardly. 'Brienne was under the impression you were aware of our…situation, from the beginning. And that you were…accepting of it.'

'I was. But that was before I realised you would go flaunting your relationship around my home in a manner only the most simple-minded of children wouldn't understand,' Sansa said, her disapproval etched in every feature of her face.

Jaime sighed. 'Lady Sansa, I do hope you'll forgive us for any inappropriate behaviour, but…if you're concerned about whether I'll be true to her, which I suspect is what this is really all about, then you can rest easy. Brienne is…everything to me,' he said sincerely.

Sansa's lips parted as she considered him. 'I believe your intentions to be true,' she said heavily. 'But I also believe what Brienne has said before about your sense of honour and your loyalty to your family, so you can understand why I have my concerns.'

Jaime felt a lump rise in his throat. 'I can. But Brienne is my family now.'

His voice and expression were so sure that it stunned Sansa into silence for a moment. She even felt briefly ashamed for doubting him, before remembering that he was a Lannister, and she had every right to question the motives of a former enemy. Even if he was the true love of her closest friend.

She considered him closely. 'You love her.'

'I do,' Jaime rang out proudly.

She nodded slowly, deep in thought. 'You would marry her. If it was something she wished.'

'I would,' Jaime said, and he smiled. 'I will.'

There was a short silence as they stared at each other, both of them trying to read what was going through the other's mind.

'Then there is nothing more to be said,' Sansa said eventually, rising to her feet. 'Other than perhaps this – if you ever dare to hurt Brienne, Pod and I will personally ensure that you are punished for it.'

Jaime smiled. 'I'd expect nothing less.'

He soon emerged outside in the courtyard not long after that, relieved to get away from Sansa's searching stare, and looked around until he saw Brienne's familiar tall, blonde figure as she gathered together a new shipment that had just been delivered through the gates. She was dressed in a simple tunic and breeches today underneath her heavy fur cloak; she no longer felt the need to wear her suit of armour all the time, unless the occasion called for it. Jaime smiled wistfully as he gazed over at her, and inexplicably found himself remembering how he had stood in that very spot she was in now when he had bid farewell to Tormund Giantsbane a few weeks ago.

'She chose you, King Killer,' Tormund had said heavily. 'Though it was a close call.'

'Very close,' Jaime had replied, nodding as he fought back an amused smile.

Tormund had then held out his hand. 'Make sure she chose right. Make sure you treat her like the queen she is,' he'd said passionately.

Jaime had smiled, but this time it had been genuine. 'I will. Thank you, Tormund,' he'd said, and the two unlikely allies had shaken hands and parted as friends.

Looking over at Brienne now as she worked and laughed with Pod, Jaime had never found Tormund's words more valuable, nor Sansa's from earlier. They helped him keep fighting, to hold on. As much as the shadow of Cersei and the unknown path that lay ahead scared him, he had to keep listening to his heart, and not the devil in his ear.

He didn't know what the future held for them both, but all Jaime knew was that he wanted Brienne in it, in every moment, by his side. And it was time he told her that.

The doubt began to seep in merely a few days after Jaime had watched Brienne and her new squire ride away from the sunny capital. He had never questioned his relationship with Cersei before. He had never once even acknowledged that Tyrion's assessment of how toxic it was between them both could somehow be true. And yet now, with Tyrion locked away in a dungeon for the murder of Joffrey, Jaime was starting to see what he meant.

Jaime would wake early each morning and watch the sunrise, and then he would look back to the beautiful woman sleeping off all her wine from the day before in the bed he sometimes shared with her, and try desperately to remind himself of how lucky he was to be back here at home – if he could still call it 'home' – with her. Ever since Robb Stark had captured him, Jaime had fought tooth and nail and done unspeakable things to get back to Cersei as quickly as he could, after all. And yet now, he couldn't seem to focus on any of that. Now all he could do was look at her as she slept and try not to let himself acknowledge his relief at how peaceful it was without her glaring or snapping at him whenever she was awake.

And then, without fail, he would always end up thinking of her. The Maid of Tarth. And that was when Jaime would have to turn away from Cersei's sleeping figure in his guilt, and look back up at the sunrise and pray that maybe today at last would be the day he would hear from her. But he knew deep down that would never happen. He would most likely never hear from Brienne again. But still, he could hope. Some days – indeed, on particularly bad days when his sister let her rage and grief explode – it was only this hope and the thought of Brienne and her mission to find Sansa that managed to keep him going.

He couldn't deny that meeting Brienne and spending considerable time with her had shown him the kind of man he had the potential to be without Cersei's influence. But this terrified him. It was much easier just to fall back on the familiarity of Cersei rather than force himself to deal with the messiness of his newfound fondness – and, dare he say it, possible attraction? – for Brienne. She was a complication in his life. And Cersei had never been one to stand for complications.

As Tyrion's imprisonment and trial proceeded, Jaime had rare occasion to call Brienne to his mind. It was only when his younger brother was sentenced to death, and Jaime saw the pleased, smug look of satisfaction on their sister's face, that he found himself in despair and desperate for Brienne's wisdom and support while he questioned everything he had ever known about his family; after all, he was unable to face Cersei anymore while she strutted about the castle, happy in the knowledge that their brother was soon to die.

It was during moments such as these when, even though they were far apart, it almost felt like Brienne was still here with him, guiding him, nurturing him. Hers was the voice of morality in Jaime's ear whenever he found himself at a crossroads; in his mind she would scold him whenever he gave into his lust for Cersei and whenever he strayed close to acting in the selfish, arrogant manners of his past, and she would encourage him whenever he took it upon himself to do what he knew to be moral course of action. When he felt weak and close to succumbing to his old ways and letting Cersei's immoral decisions rule over his actions, he drew strength from Brienne.

What would Brienne do?, he would frequently ask himself.

The answer was always clear: the honourable thing. The right thing. And that was why he rescued Tyrion from the cell and set him free. Later on, he came to somewhat regret that – Tyrion subsequently murdering their father after his release certainly put a rather bitter spin on Jaime's gallant rescue – but nevertheless, he was determined to use the thought and memory of Brienne's strength and determination for further good: to save his and Cersei's daughter, Myrcella, from the clutches of the Sand Snakes where she was being held as a ward (or rather, a hostage) at Dorne.

Jaime took his new trainer (and sellsword) with him – after all, even with his new golden hand, he was still merely passable at fighting with a sword now, and he needed someone to protect him – and the two soon set sail across the sea. One day, Jaime joined the busy hard-working crew members up on the deck of their ship, so that he could look out at the views of the ocean. It was then when he saw the rising silhouette of an island, made up of many green hills and mountains that glittered in the sunlight. It looked small but divine, and far away from the woes and troubles of the rest of the world. Jaime felt an urge to launch one of the skiffs from the ship and sail across, to start a new life for himself there, wherever it was. Alas, it could never be.

Curious, Jaime turned back to catch the attention of one of the crew members, who was passing. 'Is that Estermont?' he asked.

'Tarth, Ser Jaime,' the man replied, and Jaime turned back wistfully to the island far ahead, his heart soaring. 'The Sapphire Isle.'

Warmth flooded through him as he put his hand back down on the edge of the deck, touched by the sight of Brienne's home. No wonder he had felt such a connection to it. Even from this distance, he could tell that the immediate water surrounding the isle was an astonishing blue – a blue, in fact, that reminded him very much of Brienne's eyes. He gazed longingly across at the island, and found himself wondering where Brienne could be now. He felt himself begin to smile, and realised in that moment just how truly he missed her, much more than he'd anticipated. He thought back to the look on her face as she'd ridden away from him that sad day. He thought of the way the light had caught her, how it had made her hair and armour shine proudly, how it had made her look like a knight.

The crew member peered around at him, concerned. 'Is…everything all right, Ser Jaime?' he asked tentatively.

Jaime turned back to him, realising that he'd never responded to the crew member when he'd answered him. 'Yes, forgive me, I…I just have a friend from Tarth, that's all.'

The crew member nodded knowingly and with a smile he walked away.

A friend. Was that all she was? Jaime couldn't be sure.

He turned back to watch the Sapphire Isle as they slowly sailed past. It looked so beautiful, even from this distance. He wished he could see it properly.

One day, perhaps, a small voice inside him thought hopefully.

Jaime stayed up on the deck until Tarth had disappeared from view, and then with a sigh he turned and headed back downstairs to join Bronn in the cabins below decks. It couldn't have been real, what he'd thought he'd felt brewing between himself and Brienne in those intimate weeks together on the kingsroad, and the weeks that followed at the capital. The whole thing had surely only ever been a game for him, a distraction. But then he thought of the way she'd consoled him after Joffrey's death, the way she'd implored him to see that there was lightness in him after all, the way she'd listened tentatively to his stories and let him look after her whilst on the kingsroad on the way back from Harrenhal…that evening by the river. But no, he couldn't think of that. He mustn't think of that.

By the time Jaime was back on the ship sailing in the opposite direction many weeks later, he barely noticed as they passed Tarth along the rocky waves of the sea. He was too upset to even bother looking up out of his window. He'd stayed shut away in his cabin for the entire journey so far, ever since Bronn and some of the crew members had forced Jaime to release his hold of Myrcella's dead body. He'd never felt more vulnerable or alone or guilt-ridden in his life…which was saying something.

It's my fault, he kept thinking to himself in anguish as the tears continued to fall. If I hadn't come to Dorne, she wouldn't be dead. My Myrcella. It's all my fault.

When Bronn finally forced himself to try and show a bit of compassion, he knocked heavily on Jaime's cabin door and entered without waiting for an answer. They were still quite a number of days away from arriving back at King's Landing, but he felt he needed to give Jaime some time to start sobering up and prepare to put his grief behind him before facing life back at the capital. Jaime wasn't an avid drinker, but this journey had been an exception for him. Bronn stared down pitifully at Jaime now; he was slumped against his bed on the wooden floor, hugging his knees as he stared at the spot where he had cradled Myrcella's body. His cup of wine had spilt all over the floor, and the cup was rolling about on the floor incessantly.

'Cheer up,' was Bronn's greeting as he sauntered into the cabin, and he sighed heavily as he sat down beside Jaime. 'Ahh, dear. You said you wanted to die in the arms of the woman you loved – I think you need that woman right now. I can send word to the Queen Regent-'

'It's not her I want to see,' Jaime mumbled, his eyes staring blankly at the floor.

'Then who?'

There was a silence as the ship rocked from side to side.

'You don't know her,' Jaime muttered, and Bronn raised his eyebrows.

'My, my, you do surprise me. I always thought you were loyal to your, err…sister.'

Jaime gave him a dark look; his eyes were bloodshot, though whether it was from tears or drink, Bronn couldn't tell.

Bronn rolled his eyes exasperatedly. 'Skip the pretence with me, we both know you've been fucking Cersei since you were both old enough to know how to-'

'Now listen here-' Jaime said angrily, struggling to try and get up to his feet, but he stumbled; Bronn slammed a hand roughly on his chest and forced him back down to the floor.

'I'm here to protect you and kill for you, not to give up my freedom to talk as I like,' Bronn said sharply, as Jaime gave up and sat back down.

Jaime's nostrils flared. He was furious with the man, but too drunk to be bothered taking action on punishing him for his impropriety just right now.

'You don't want to send a raven, then?' Bronn asked. 'We have some on board, we could get word to your sister so she knows-'

'No. It would only make her angry, and I need to be there to tell her myself. Besides, I want to put it off as long as possible,' Jaime admitted, his words slurring slightly. 'She'll only blame me. She'll hate me for it, she'll curse me for it, and she'll be completely right and she'll…she'll forget that I'm in pain as well. She always does.'

'Oh I see,' Bronn said in mock sympathy. 'So you want a woman to comfort you. Well, you can always pay a visit to one of the brothels and ask for that, they're good in-'

'It's not a whore I want,' Jaime interrupted shortly.

'Then who? Who is this mystery woman whose company you so crave right now?' Bronn asked, almost teasingly.

Jaime glared scathingly at him. 'Are you mocking me?'

'Dunno. But I am fascinated. Who's better than the grand beautiful Cersei Lannister?' Bronn pointed out, intrigued.

'Not necessarily better. Just…different,' Jaime said, and he sighed heavily as he stared back at the floor. 'It's complicated.'

Bronn scoffed. 'How complicated?'

'Very complicated.'

'I won't ask who it is, I know you'd never tell me. Why the fuck would you? But what makes her so special?' Bronn demanded.

Jaime then stared at him incredulously with a frown, as if only just realising that he was here. 'Why are you still here talking to me about this? You don't care.'

'No I bloody well don't, but it's fucking boring here on this ship and I'm sick of the captain and his awful jokes,' Bronn said bluntly. 'So…do you want us to write to this woman instead, whoever she is?'

'No, she…I don't know where she is, she…she's far away, I can't reach her. She might be dead for all I know,' Jaime said helplessly, and his face scrunched up as another tear trickled down his cheek. 'I just know she'd know what to say. She'd certainly have a much better bedside manner than you.'

'Bedside manner?' Bronn said exasperatedly, and he groaned. 'For fuck's sake, just get over yourself, people die every day, there's nothing wrong with you so stop your self-pity and-'

'Shut your mouth, Bronn,' Jaime interrupted warningly.

'She was your niece! You barely knew her.'

'My niece?' Jaime said, and his voice broke.

Bronn fell silent then. Jaime wondered if Bronn had really known deep down, and had just been keeping along with the façade that societal norms demanded – he'd certainly hinted as much before – or if in reality he hadn't truly realised until just now.

Bronn looked deeply uncomfortable, but instead of an apology, all that came out of his mouth was, 'So…this 'other woman'. She was kind? Caring?'

The smallest hint of a fond smile appeared on Jaime's lips. 'Not really. Only when the occasion called for it. But I think…what she and I felt for each other was true,' he murmured in a small voice. 'It was…pure.'

Bronn rolled his eyes; he was drunker than he'd thought. ''Was'?'

Jaime looked down and sighed. 'Even if we were to meet again, even if I'd wanted to…we could never have been able to…be together.'

'Why not? You're not exactly betrothed to your sister, are you?' Bronn pointed out; that seemed to sober Jaime up.

'If you mention my sister in that regard one more time, I will personally slit your throat,' Jaime said, glaring at Bronn. 'And the same goes for if you ever repeat a word of this conversation to anyone outside this cabin.'

'Understood.' Bronn got up to his feet and headed back towards the cabin door. 'Get some rest, you should sleep all that wine off. Oh, and by the way, I wouldn't give up hope on her. She may be far away, but I've heard enough about her from you to know that there's no fucking way that Brienne of Tarth is dead. You'll see her again.'

Jaime looked up with shocked eyes, but Bronn had already left the cabin and shut the door behind him. He swallowed as he looked around at his empty goblet of wine, still rolling around on the floor. He wondered if Bronn had known who he'd been talking about this whole time. Then he realised that he had been a fool to assume that Bronn was stupid and blind enough not to have known from the very start. He'd witnessed his and Brienne's farewell on the outskirts of King's Landing, after all. And now he knew how Jaime really felt. The cutthroat could easily hold that against him. He would most likely have to pay him money to keep silent now.

To Jaime's surprise, however, Bronn remained silent on the subject for the remainder of their journey and simply acted as if Jaime hadn't spilled his most personal secret to him. When they arrived back at King's Landing, Cersei appeared to have been through a hell of her own while Jaime had been away, having been locked up by the High Sparrow for her crimes; being reunited with her daughter had been the one thing she'd had left to cling onto…something Jaime was left to shatter before her very eyes as he brought Myrcella's body ashore.

It was an almost impossible task to comfort Cersei as she mourned their daughter. Her head had been shaved, she had been paraded naked around the streets and publicly humiliated in ways she hadn't imagined possible, and her excitement at seeing Myrcella again had been the last shred of humanity that remained to her. And now that was all gone. So all Jaime had been able to do was declare a solemn vow to always stay loyal to her and to protect her from all those who sought to destroy them, and hope that was enough to reassure her that no further harm would come to her. But it wasn't enough. It soon transpired that nothing ever would be.

As time passed, Cersei's grief morphed into something more than hatred and anger. She wasn't just hungry for power and revenge now, she was hungry for the end of all things that were nothing to do with House Lannister. Jaime began to no longer recognise her as he watched her fall further into the destructive path she was carving out for everyone in the Seven Kingdoms, including themselves. He even became somewhat grateful for time without her; he could relax then. But then she would emerge in all her terrifying regal splendour to chastise him over the importance of their power and their family legacy before seducing him into her bed, and Jaime would go away inside himself while it happened, clinging to the love he desperately wanted to still have for this new woman, this twisted broken woman in his sister's body. After all, that was all he had left. As terrible as she could be, Cersei was a part of him, and he was nothing without her.

But of course, Jaime had to remind himself that he hadn't always been a nothing when he'd been without Cersei. When he'd been held captive and then taken back to King's Landing all that time ago, he hadn't been extraordinary but he had been something. He had made a difference in someone's life – he had saved Brienne from a rape and a bear, after all, had he not? He had been something else with Brienne. A different man. A better man. He missed being that man sometimes.

On the nights when he found himself too repelled or infuriated by Cersei to go near her, Jaime would find himself shut away in the Lord Commander's quarters, and he would look up at the stars from the balcony and wonder if Brienne was looking up at them too, at the same moment. He wondered where she was, what she was doing, what she was thinking. He wondered if he ever crossed her mind, before remembering he couldn't allow himself to wonder about such things.

She's left, he told himself. She's left and she's never coming back.

And so on he went, trying to make it through each day while his sister plotted and threatened and dreamed of bigger and better things for them, each thing scarier for Jaime than the next. But he was helpless against her. His loyalty wasn't completely blind (or so he told himself, at least); Cersei only acted in the way she thought she had to, and underneath that terrifying, dangerous exterior there was still the woman who had come into the world with him, the woman he had loved all his life, the woman part of the one thing he cherished above all things – his family. Nevertheless, he was her puppet without realising it, doing everything she commanded and letting her bring out the immoral side that still remained tucked away within him. He soon found himself even preparing a trip to deal with the Blackfish and take Riverrun's castle, something Cersei was eager for him to get done quickly and brutally, if necessary.

As time went on, Jaime could feel his reserve failing, Brienne's influence slipping away bit by bit as he found his anger at the High Sparrow and the Blackfish and the Sand Snakes and everyone who wanted to tear his family apart begin to consume him. He even felt inexplicably furious with Tommen for demoting him and removing him from the Kingsguard; it meant that this mission to Riverrun was his only chance to prove his worth to House Lannister now. He would have to take the castle with fire and blood, as the famous dreaded song about his late father had always taught him to do, for Cersei and for their family legacy. Because without that there was no point to any of this, no point at all. And as he and his army rode off to Riverrun with a fire in his belly and hatred for the world that had taken so much from him, Jaime knew that he was lost once more. No one could save him now.

~ Present Day ~

The Godswood in Winterfell was a mystical place, a small tranquil wooded area that was most affected by the winter than any other place in the grounds. The small pond was frozen over, the dark red leaves hanging from the heart tree's branches crisp and still, the snow on the ground soft and deep. Neither Jaime nor Brienne worshipped the old gods, but it was a nice, peaceful area to escape to on occasion; secluded and quiet and away from the hustle and bustle of life back in the castle. It was beautiful here, surrounded by the great tall trees and the never-ending snow. It was serene.

Brienne kept glancing sideways at Jaime anxiously as she held his gloved hand tightly in her own while they walked leisurely together towards the frozen pond, but she couldn't read his expression. He'd been remarkably quiet all day, and it unnerved her. It felt like she was trying to hold her breath constantly, as if trying to freeze each moment in time, to make it never end, to let it just stay this way even though she knew this dream he had set off in them both might very well not last. But still, they could share in the dream for now. They could enjoy it. And they could hope. Never before had Brienne clung to hope so desperately – anything just so that this perfect life they had only just started together could last.

Jaime then cleared his throat as they came to a halt by the pond. 'I don't think I ever told you, but…I saw Tarth once, a while ago…when I was on my way to Dorne, for Myrcella,' he said, glancing up at her.

Brienne's face had lit up. 'You saw Tarth?'

'It looked beautiful,' Jaime said, smiling warmly.

'It is,' Brienne said wistfully. 'I miss it sometimes.'

'I was thinking it's…probably worth another visit,' Jaime went on tentatively. 'I only saw it from a distance, after all.'

Brienne stared at him for a moment, stunned. 'Y-you'd like to go to Tarth?'

'Hmm. Yes. Perhaps…when all this is over…we could go together,' Jaime suggested, looking back at the pond as if suddenly fascinated by the sheet of ice across it.

'Perhaps we could,' Brienne said, and her voice went slightly higher than usual, but then her face fell. 'Although…I'm sworn to protect Lady Sansa. How could I protect her if I was away in Tarth?'

Jaime tilted his head thoughtfully. 'I'm sure she wouldn't mind giving you a break for a month or so. You could leave Pod in Winterfell as your second, to take your place and protect Sansa while you were gone – that way you wouldn't be breaking your vow. She certainly wouldn't mind that,' he said, smirking, and Brienne rolled her eyes with a grin.

'No, I don't think she would. But…would you really want to go?' she asked doubtfully.

'I would. I have done ever since the day I sailed past it,' Jaime said in a sincere voice, and he smiled almost sadly at the memory. 'I couldn't stop thinking about you that day, you know. I thought I'd never see you again.'

'But you did.'

Jaime smiled, and felt a lump rise in his throat as he tried to form the words that he had yearned to say for such a very long time now. 'Brienne,' he began nervously, and he swallowed. 'You told me once in King's Landing that…you never wanted a husband.'

Brienne's lips parted as she returned his gaze, her heart racing. 'Th-that's right, I did.'

'Do you still stand by that now?' he asked, as if he were merely asking her of her opinion on today's weather.

There was a stunned pause as they both stared at each other.

'I…Jaime, what are you saying?' Brienne whispered, her fingers twitching nervously.

Jaime smiled tenderly at her. 'I think you know.'

Brienne exhaled shakily, unable to stop smiling herself. She didn't understand. She'd thought he wanted to wait until after the war was over before they discussed any of that. Perhaps he'd simply just changed his mind. Or perhaps he thought the war would never be over.

Jaime then took both her hands in his, and he held them close to his chest, where she could feel his heart pounding, even beneath his thick winter cloak. 'Do you remember the words I said to you in the tent, that day at Riverrun? When you tried to give me Oathkeeper?' he asked.

'Of course I do,' Brienne replied breathlessly; how could she ever forget? 'You said it would always be mine.'

'And you know I didn't just mean the sword, don't you?' Jaime said, smiling.

Brienne blinked rapidly, touched. 'You truly knew then? How you felt?'

'I think I felt it long before that,' Jaime said softly, 'it just wasn't until Riverrun that I realised it…properly.'

Brienne squeezed his hand as she felt her eyes begin to well up. 'You asked me to wait for you that day,' she murmured, and Jaime smiled fondly.

'And you did.'

He remembered that day vividly. The way he'd followed her out of the tent, frustrated with his own inability to express the feelings that had only just truly come to light within him, desperate not to see her leave his side so soon after only just reuniting…the things he'd said to her just before she had left with Pod for the castle…the way she had looked at him with those large disbelieving eyes, brimming with tears and not quite daring to hope that he could be true to her, that he meant all the things he said with his eyes and merely a few words.

That day at Riverrun had changed everything for him. For both of them, in fact. It had reminded them both of hope. It had reminded them both of love.

'But…the time of waiting is done, and…life is too short not to say and do the things we long to,' Jaime said, gazing firmly back into Brienne's eyes, and he let out a shuddering breath; he was incredibly nervous, but Brienne's reassuring smile and her blue eyes brimming with emotion calmed him. 'We can discuss the practicalities of things later, and I want to ask you properly…but planning to spend the rest of our lives together can only start once the war is over.'

'I agree. Although I will hold you to your word that you'll ask me when the war has ended,' Brienne said, smirking at him, and they both laughed as Jaime gazed down at their intertwined hands.

'Please do, so I don't let my better judgement change my mind when the time comes,' he said, squeezing her hands again.

Brienne tilted her head at him, confused. 'Whatever do you mean?'

When he looked back up at her, there were tears in his eyes. 'I shouldn't ask you to marry me, Brienne. I'm merely broken pieces of a man trying to stay together. I'm not much, and I don't deserve you. I barely even know who or what I am anymore,' he said, his voice shaking slightly, and he reached up to cup her face, his eyes firm and sincere and loving. 'But whatever I am, whatever is left of me…I'm yours, Brienne. Heart, body and soul. I'm yours.'

Brienne's chin and lip quivered as she watched a tear escape his eye, and her heart knew in that moment that she would never be alone again. Finally she was free to dream of a future with him. A life together with Jaime Lannister on the Sapphire Isle – who could have imagined it? And as she kissed him under the shelter of the old weirwood tree, it almost felt like the gods were indeed watching them, blessing them, as they embraced and smiled and savoured this perfect moment. However the days to come would unfold, Brienne didn't mind, not now, and especially not now today had happened. She had found herself with a new lease on life, and a new partner with whom to share it: Jaime. They were in love and she was happy, truly happy, for the first time in her life, just as he was. And that was all that mattered in the end.