Based on events during Episode 4 of GoT Season 8

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

It was with a heavy air of reluctance that Brienne knocked on the door to Lady Sansa's study that afternoon. She couldn't help feeling almost resentful towards Sansa for the cold, heartless way in which she had spoken to Jaime earlier this morning. But Brienne was practised in maintaining a cool head, and she still respected Sansa very much. She just wished that she had held her tongue when Jaime had never appeared before them in the courtyard after the raven had arrived.

'You asked to see me, my lady?' Brienne asked politely, as she entered the room.

'It's nothing important,' Sansa said, almost apologetically, as she rose from her desk. 'I was just…a little concerned about Ser Jaime, after this morning. How is he?'

Brienne looked at her; she was surprised Sansa even cared, after the way she had spoken to Jaime earlier. 'He's…putting on a brave face,' she replied hesitantly. 'Sometimes he forgets I can see through him so well.'

'Is he angry with his sister for what she's done, or afraid for her safety?' Sansa asked, watching Brienne carefully.

'Both, I think,' Brienne admitted, and her eyes lowered to the floor. 'But he…he won't talk to me about it.'

'And what about you?'

Brienne frowned, confused. 'My lady?'

Sansa tilted her head at her. 'How are you?'

There was a silence. Brienne didn't really know how to respond. She didn't know what her answer was, and Sansa could tell; she was worried that the scroll they'd received this morning had shattered the blissful paradise Jaime and Brienne had built together, and the way Brienne's face faltered at her question told Sansa all she needed to do.

'I'm fine,' Brienne replied eventually, and she forced a smile. 'I'm…carrying on.'

Sansa nodded, unsatisfied with her response. 'Perhaps you should hold off on your duties for today. Stick close to Ser Jaime instead. He'll need you, no doubt.'

'You want me to keep an eye on him, you mean.'

Sansa looked up at Brienne; the unusually disapproving tone in her voice made her feel almost ashamed of herself. 'I'm not asking you to spy on him,' she said uncomfortably. 'I know what he is to you.'

'Then what are you asking, my lady?' Brienne asked coldly.

Sansa sighed. 'Just…make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. He's her family, after all.'

'I thought you trusted him, my lady,' Brienne said, trying her hardest to hide her disappointment.

'I do. It's Cersei's hold over him that I don't trust. You shouldn't either,' Sansa said warningly, and she sighed as she watched Brienne's face fall in dismay. 'It was wrong of me to speak to him the way I did earlier, it wasn't fair. I'll apologise to him tomorrow, once I've calmed down a little. I know what happened wasn't his fault.'

And when will you apologise to me? Brienne thought bitterly, though she hated herself for thinking it.

She left Sansa not long after that, intent on finding Jaime. She wanted to spend every moment of today at his side. After all, tomorrow wasn't promised to anyone, and today's scroll had reminded them of that.

When would they run out of time? They didn't know, neither of them did. All Brienne knew was that she had to make the most of what they had left. It seemed strange that merely the other day she and Jaime had been wrapped in each other's arms in the Godswood while they planned their future together. Or had that just been a dream? Right now, as Brienne headed out into the courtyard, her mind and expression filled with anguish, she couldn't be sure.

Brienne found him busy at work in the courtyard, helping some of the smallfolk shovel a large pile of rubble away to the side. It was good to see him preoccupied.

When Jaime looked up and saw Brienne approaching, her large fur cloak billowing behind her, he felt himself go both warm and cold simultaneously. 'I was wondering where you'd got to,' he greeted, smiling at her. 'I thought we'd said we were going to spend more time with each other today.'

'I was…I was just speaking with Sansa,' Brienne said distractedly as she joined him. 'But I'm yours for the rest of the day.'

Jaime leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. 'Excellent.'

'Jaime, have you eaten today?' Brienne asked quietly, watching him in concern.

'No, I'm not hungry,' Jaime said airily, making Brienne frown, and he indicated the pile of rubble at his feet. 'Would you mind helping me with this? I could do with a hand.'

Brienne stared at him.

Jaime looked bemused. 'Th-that wasn't intentional-'

'I can't believe you just said that,' Brienne said, trying and failing not to smile.

'As far as jokes go-'

'It was terrible!'

They were both laughing, and for one wonderful moment everything else was forgotten, all the pain and guilt and regret from this morning had been tossed aside as they enjoyed the sound of each other's laughter and the way their faces lit up with joy. But then Brienne's laugh faltered as she saw the tear fall down Jaime's cheek.

Alarmed, Brienne made to step towards him. 'Jaime-'

But Jaime held a hand out to stop her and he abruptly stopped laughing. 'Please, don't. I'm fine. I'm sorry,' he murmured, and, bowing his head low, he turned his back on her and walked hurriedly out of the courtyard back into the castle.

Brienne watched him go with a lump in her throat, her lips quivering. She stood there for a few moments, frozen not just by the cold air around her but by the fear and distress that threatened to engulf her, until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked down to see that Pod had come over to her, wearing a sympathetic expression.

'Go to him,' he murmured.

Brienne gave him a shaky nod and pressed her hand gratefully over his before following Jaime into the castle. He wasn't in their chambers, nor the great hall, nor any of the usual rooms they resided in. She found him eventually in the library, a room neither of them had visited since the day of the funeral after the battle. So much had changed between them since then. It was odd that it had only been a month ago.

He was stood in a secluded corner hidden away from the doorway, his back leant against one of the bookcases as he stared down at the floor. Brienne gently closed the door and walked slowly towards him. Jaime looked up, and his expression softened at the sight of her. She could tell he had been crying but she didn't say anything. She knew he didn't want that, and she knew she didn't need to either. Instead, Brienne slowly walked up to him, until she was stood merely inches before him.

She wished he would let her in. She wished he wouldn't feel so badly damaged, when she was just as damaged as he was. All they needed to do was stay close and hold each other tight, and all would be right again. They could be there for each other, as they had been ever since the battle – way before then, even – and yet she could feel himself closing off from the world around him, as if in fear, as if in shame.

Brienne reached out to caress his hand with her own, and as she did so Jaime inclined his head up slightly so their foreheads were pressed each other's, grateful for her touch, her wordless reassurance. Brienne intertwined her fingers with his as he rubbed his nose against hers, both of them at peace and content and wishing time could just stand still.

All Brienne had ever known before Jaime was how to hold her own. She had got so used to a lonely life that she hadn't ever imagined anything different. But now she knew this, this beautiful thing between them, and she wanted to hold onto it as tightly as she could and never let go. With his hand in hers, she could forget the cold and the dark and the war, and it was just the two of them.

I wish it could always be like this, she thought, but didn't dare say.

As he caressed her fingers with his own, Jaime then leaned in and gently kissed her lips, before enveloping her in his arms and holding her close to him. When she leaned apart, he kept his arms wrapped around her waist and pressed his forehead once more against hers.

'Just us?' he murmured.

Brienne smiled tenderly and nodded. 'Just us,' she whispered.

Jaime smiled back and brought her lips back to his. He wouldn't take her for granted. He would hold her today and love her tonight…and she would never know that he was saying goodbye, that they were losing each other. That their time together was at an end.

The rest of the afternoon passed by too quickly, but for those blissful hours Jaime allowed himself to forget his woes and troubles and focus instead on the incredible woman who had brought him so much joy and made him feel valuable for the first time in his entire life. They spent their time walking around winter town and the Godswood together hand-in-hand, and when darkness fell they joined Pod for dinner in the great hall. That evening in the hall with food and drink and good company made it almost feel as if everything was normal. The troubled lovers enjoyed Pod's act of obliviousness to what was going on; they could laugh and joke and pretend that Sansa wasn't keeping a watchful eye on Jaime from the top end of the hall. Jaime was reluctant to leave the hall when the time came, knowing that he would most likely never sit at these tables again or dine on such excellent food or talk and laugh with people he considered his family now, but to put it off would only arouse suspicion.

'I'll join you later,' Jaime murmured to Brienne at the foot of the steps leading up to their bedchambers. 'There's just something I need to do.'

Brienne tried to maintain a smile on her face. 'How very mysterious,' she said, but she could tell from his expression that he wasn't going to elaborate, so blinking rapidly, she gave him a nervous nod. 'All right then…I'll see you later.'

She turned to head up the steps but Jaime then put his hand on her waist and twisted her around so that he could kiss her firmly on the lips. When they broke apart, they were both smiling.

'Don't worry,' he said soothingly to her. 'I'll be an hour at most. I'll see you soon.'

Reassured, Brienne smiled and then turned again, her face falling the moment she started walking up the steps. Jaime's expression had faltered as well, but he didn't have time to dwell on how wrong it was of him to comfort her over something she had every reason to be scared of. He turned and headed back to the library, where he'd asked Samwell Tarly to leave some materials for him earlier this afternoon.

Jaime closed the library door and crossed the room to the table where Sam had laid everything out for him; pieces of parchment, a quill and ink, and a candle. Swallowing, Jaime took a seat and smoothed his hand over the empty parchment before him.

He couldn't keep pretending, not to Brienne. He had to tell her truth, even if it meant ending the dream they had started together. Even if it meant her hating him for the rest of her life. He owed her the truth. And this was the best way in which he could do that.

Sighing, his eyes already welling up, Jaime leaned over the parchment with his quill and began to write.

'My dearest, Brienne…'

'Lord Bolton, with respect, I must beg you to reconsider. Please, Lady Brienne-'

'-Is not your wife – thank the gods, for your sake – nor your property of any kind, you utter fool,' Roose Bolton snapped, his loss of temper taking Jaime aback. 'She is our hostage here. She is Locke's reward, to do with as he likes.'

'Why?' Jaime's voice shook with rage and fear. 'They will do abhorrent things to her if she stays here with them, you know they will, and she is a noble lady of high birth, she is good, she is innocent-'

'And she is no longer your concern,' Bolton cut over him firmly, glaring up at him.

Lord Bolton had been finishing writing up his letters before departing for Edmure Tully's wedding later this morning, and had not been expecting to be disturbed in his own private quarters by a very irate cripple who had clearly lost a great deal of sleep over the matter that so dearly troubled him.

Bolton glared up at Jaime incredulously. 'Ser Jaime, you bewilder me. I don't know why you're so bothered about the great ugly cow, she was never your ally in the first place.'

'Her name is Brienne. And she has protected me,' Jaime said fiercely. 'Now I wish to do the same for her.'

'You do realise if you attempt to do that, that will mean you're directly disobeying my orders and you will therefore be imprisoned here for the rest of whatever miserable days you have left,' Bolton said simply, while Jaime's eyebrows rose further and further up his forehead in horror. 'You will not see the capital or your sister again, and your father will receive word that you are dead. He would never know.'

Jaime was outraged. This monstrous man was doing this purely to taunt Jaime, to separate him from his one friend so that Jaime knew he was well and truly alone and that Lord Bolton was in control.

Jaime banged his fist down on the table. 'You would do all that, and risk the wrath of House Lannister, just to torture me for wanting an innocent woman to be safe?' he demanded incredulously.

'Well I have to have some form of amusement, don't I?' Bolton said, and he rose to his feet with a warning look in his eyes. 'Now leave. You should be gone already.'

One of Bolton's guards stormed over and grabbed Jaime by the arm; Jaime shrugged it off bitterly and made his own way out, defeated. There was no point in continuing to argue with the man – Jaime had tried, many times, over the past few days. But it was no use. Brienne was stuck here. There was nothing he could do to help her, and he had already bid her farewell. All he could do now was try to move on and focus on returning to Cersei. That was all that had mattered to him before Locke had taken him captive after all; why should things be any different now?

Lord Bolton came out to the courtyard later that morning to bid a frosty farewell to Jaime, and also to ensure that Jaime would pass on his regards to his father. Jaime responded respectfully, knowing that there was no point in putting up any more of a fight, and, desperate to leave this ghastly place as soon as possible, soon set off out of the courtyard.

'Safe journey, Kingslayer,' Locke said, smirking, as Jaime rode on slowly towards the open gates; Jaime ignored him. 'Nothing to say? I liked you better before. I don't remember chopping your balls off, too.'

Locke's companions laughed but still Jaime ignored him. He wouldn't rise to the bait. He wouldn't let this miserable, brutish man get to him, not anymore.

But then Locke stepped towards Jaime's horse as he passed, leering at him. 'And don't you worry about your friend. We'll take good care of her,' he promised.

Jaime felt a lump rise in his throat and he considered a retort, but it wasn't able to leave his mouth. Your friend. Brienne was his friend. That prospect would have once repulsed Jaime, but things were different now.

There was a bad taste in his mouth as Jaime and his entourage of Bolton's men assigned to his journey back south quickened their pace and rode away from Harrenhal. He had been so desperate to leave Locke and his troubles on the road behind him, to be on his way back to Cersei…so why did he feel so terrible?

The hours slowly passed, and with each corner they took and each hill they rode over, Jaime felt steadily worse. Not even the stinging pain in his stump as he struggled to control the reigns of his horse could distract him from his endless worrying.

Seven hells, what has become of me?

He'd always thought that he'd been so tough and had a knack for being able to leave people behind without a care in the world, for all that mattered was himself and his family. So why was it that whenever his mind drifted as they rode through the hilltops, all he could think about was the awkward tall blonde woman locked up in that depressing cell back at Harrenhal?

They came to stop later that afternoon to water the horses and for Qyburn to redress Jaime's stump. As Qyburn delicately put a new bandage on the ugly, gnarled stump at the end of Jaime's arm, the two newfound allies talked about Qyburn's history as a maester, while Jaime tried desperately to ignore Locke's taunting words from before ringing in his ears.

But then he realised he couldn't help himself. No matter how hard he wanted to try and forget her and put everything that had happened behind him, he just couldn't let it go.

'You were in charge of the ravens at Harrenhal,' Jaime said tentatively, as Qyburn adjusted the sling around Jaime's arm. 'Did you…did you get a bird off to Brienne's father in Tarth?'

'A bird flew off and a bird flew back. Lord Selwyn Tarth offered 300 gold dragons for his daughter's safe return,' Qyburn replied, as Jaime looked over the fresh bandages wrapped around his stump.

Jaime raised his eyebrows, relieved. 'A fair offer,' he said, rising to his feet to lead the way back over to his horse.

'A fair offer,' Qyburn agreed, 'but Locke won't take it.'

Jaime stopped walking and turned back to him, horrified. 'Why not?' he asked, perplexed.

'He's convinced Lord Tarth owns all the sapphire mines in Westeros,' Qyburn explained, and Jaime groaned in dismay. 'He feels he's being cheated.'

Jaime stared at the grass, guilt-ridden.

'They call it the Sapphire Isle, do you know why? Every sapphire in Westeros was mined on Tarth…Lord Selwyn would pay his daughter's weight in sapphires if she's returned to him. But only if she's alive. Her honour…unbesmirched.'

Those words had cost him his sword hand. And now his lie to protect her had inadvertently placed her in greater danger.

'They'd be fools to kill her,' Jaime said with a frown, his tone hopeful for Qyburn to confirm that he was right.

But Qyburn had a sorrowful expression on his face as he packed away his medical supplies. 'These men have been at war a long time. Most of them will be dead by winter. She'll be their entertainment tonight,' he said, and Jaime looked at him, his expression scrunched up in protest and fear. 'Beyond tonight…I don't think they care very much.'

Deep in thought, Jaime stared back at the ground, seeing nothing as Qyburn's words resonated with him, his heart beating a dreaded drumbeat against his chest.

He exhaled shakily as birds began chirping away in the sky above him, birds that were free to fly wherever they wanted, birds that could reach King's Landing within a matter of days. He looked around desperately to the south end of the hills that surrounded them, where the kingsroad heading towards the capital lay not far ahead.

She's waiting for you. Cersei. Home. You're finally free to go back to her. The sooner you get a move on, the sooner you'll be reunited with her.

His expression torn in anguish, Jaime looked back to the opposite direction, where Harrenhal stood a considerable few hours' ride away. He thought of Brienne, the irritating honourable Brienne, in that stupid pink dress and with that stupid scowl. He thought of her animalistic screams that night they'd taken her into the bushes. He thought of the way she had looked after him in Qyburn's quarters after their eventful bath. He thought of the way she'd gazed at him as he'd left her in that cell in the castle.

He so dearly wanted to just not care, but it was hopeless. The world had always been against him; it had brought him pain and misery and anger, it had forced him on journeys that had left him scarred for life…and yet Brienne of Tarth had begun to heal those scars. He had learned things from her, things that had changed him and that he knew would guide him for the rest of his days. He could hear her stubborn voice, quiet yet persistent, in his head, drawing him back to her. He couldn't fight against it any longer. He wouldn't. He had to go back for her.

He hadn't given up his sword hand for nothing, after all.

Turning his back on the path that led south, Jaime then strode purposefully over to Steelshanks, who was taking a large swig of his drink before they resumed their ride to the capital.

'We have to return to Harrenhal,' Jaime said decisively, once he had reached Steelshanks.

Steelshanks looked at Jaime, unimpressed. 'Why?'

'I've left something behind,' Jaime replied.

I should never have left her there in the first place, Jaime thought fiercely.

'Absolutely not,' Steelshanks said firmly. 'I've got orders from Lord Bolton.'

'And what are those orders?' Jaime asked.

'To deliver you to your father at King's Landing.'

Jaime eyed him carefully, and frowned in understanding. 'You think you'll get a reward.'

Steelshanks rose slowly to his feet. 'I serve Lord Bolton,' he said calmly. 'Any appreciation your father-'

'You think you're getting a reward,' Jaime cut over him sharply; he couldn't afford to waste any time with this man. 'Let me explain something to you – when my father sees me, the first thing he's going to ask is what happened to my hand. And I'm going to tell him this man chopped it off.'

Steelshanks' eyes widened in horror. 'I had nothing-!'

'Or I could tell him this man saved my life,' Jaime interrupted, and he raised his eyebrows pointedly at Steelshanks. 'We return to Harrenhal. Now.'

Qyburn and all Bolton's men looked confused, and some even irritated, by Steelshanks' order to ride back at Jaime's request, but the look in Jaime's eyes made it clear that there was no arguing on the matter. Jaime led the charge back at a rushed pace, and he suddenly found a new strength holding onto his reigns with one hand despite his fragile state, perhaps due to the determination and desperation raging through him. The sooner they got to Harrenhal the better, and he didn't mind if Steelshanks and the rest of the men couldn't catch up with him. Suddenly nothing else mattered to him but rescuing Brienne from that hellhole.

As they all galloped back through the grassy fields, Qyburn called after Jaime as he tried to catch up with him; Jaime reluctantly slowed his pace momentarily so that Qyburn could speak.

'Ser Jaime, I hesitate to say it but I must agree with Steelshanks,' Qyburn said anxiously as they rode on. 'I don't see what good this could do – it's most likely too late. Besides, you don't need Lady Brienne.'

Jaime frowned; he had never known anything less true. 'You don't know her.'

'No, but I do know you're no longer tied to her,' Qyburn pointed out, making Jaime turn away irritably as he encouraged his horse on. 'Your business with her is concluded, she's nothing.'

'She is not nothing,' Jaime snapped. 'I swore a solemn vow to Catelyn Stark that I would release her daughters into Lady Brienne's care, and that is what I will do.'

'You can send the Stark girls back to their mother without Lady Brienne's help-'

'I'm not abandoning her there. I'm not doing it.' He couldn't live with himself if he did.

'I thought you were desperate to get back to King's Landing. By doing this, you're only delaying your return there even more,' Qyburn said incredulously. 'Is she really worth it?'

Jaime paused as they rode on, pondering Qyburn's expression. He remembered how Brienne had defended him with Locke…how she'd tended to him after he'd fainted in the bath…how she'd called him 'Ser Jaime' when bidding farewell. He realised he had no choice in the matter; Brienne was a part of his life now, whether he liked it or not.

'Yes,' Jaime realised, and he sounded surprised but firm when he said it, his expression determined. 'She is.'

~ Present Day ~

When Pod entered the library, he looked intrigued but also wary; he was never normally needed by anyone after the evening meal. In fact, he'd even been hoping to take Lady Sansa out for an evening stroll around the grounds, if she wanted…but he could tell from the look on Jaime's face as he sat by the hearth that that was not going to be possible.

'Thank you for coming, Pod. Please, sit,' Jaime said warmly, gesturing the seat opposite him.

Confused, Pod took his allocated seat and looked at Jaime expectantly. What could this possibly be about?

Jaime took a deep breath; he looked deeply uncomfortable, as if this had been something he'd been dreading for quite some time.

'Pod. I need you to do something for me,' Jaime said heavily. 'I'm entrusting you and only you with this because I believe – no, I know – you will remain true to your word.'

'Of course I will, milord, but…what about Ser Brienne?' Pod asked, perplexed, and Jaime's face faltered.

'This concerns Brienne.'

Pod's lips parted in understanding and felt himself tense up, suddenly uneasy.

Jaime sighed. 'We're at war. And this one is close to its end…and we don't know what will happen. We think we're safe up here in the North now but we don't know that for sure. So…I thought I should make plans for…in case I don't survive it,' he said awkwardly, and Pod scoffed sceptically.

'I doubt that will happen very much, milord.'

'Still…I like to be prepared,' Jaime said amicably. 'I'm not particularly well-known for making the right decisions, but this, this is something I know is right.'

He was holding out a sealed scroll in his hand. Pod tilted his head at him.

'A letter? Would you like me to send it to someone, milord?' he asked.

'Brienne,' Jaime replied. 'But only when the time is right.'

'Brienne?' Pod said, frowning.

'In the event of my death. Should it…happen.'

Pod's expression had suddenly turned rather frosty as he watched Jaime carefully. 'You sound as if it's a certainty that it will, milord.'

'Not a certainty,' Jaime muttered, avoiding his eye contact. 'But…I won't lie…it's possible. Probable, perhaps.'

A short silence fell between them as the fire crackled away.

'You're leaving. Aren't you?' Pod's strangled voice was what gave away how deeply upset he was.

Jaime didn't answer. He didn't have to. Pod wasn't an idiot, after all.

He looked down, ashamed. 'Give it a couple of months or so, maybe longer, I'll leave it up to you to decide. Once she's had time to…come to terms with it, if it happens. I don't want her hating me when she reads this.'

'Forgive me for speaking out of turn, milord,' Pod said, his voice sounding angry now, 'but the way you're speaking makes me think Ser Brienne will definitely hate you regardless.'

Jaime nodded, his lips quivering slightly at the thought. 'You speak true, and you have every right to do so. But…if there's ever a chance she can forgive me, I very much wish that she would read this. Promise me you'll give it to her, Pod.'

Pod hesitated. 'I promise,' he said eventually.

Relieved, Jaime leant over and passed the sealed scroll to Pod. Pod took it reluctantly, and to Jaime's astonishment he noticed that Pod's eyes were wet. He felt rather touched.

'When – if – the time arises when you should give it to Brienne, please…tell her that I was trying to protect her. And tell her that I'm sorry. More so than she can ever imagine,' Jaime said, trying to keep it together.

'Ser Jaime, what do you plan on doing?' Pod asked, his expression torn in desperation.

'I…I don't know,' Jaime replied helplessly. 'It probably won't work, but I have to try. For my family, and for King's Landing.'

Pod frowned doubtfully. 'I'm not sure how comfortable I feel with this, milord. I'm bad at keeping secrets from Ser Brienne, she can read me very well.'

'It'll only be for a few hours, and you won't even see her,' Jaime reassured him. 'I'll be gone in the morning, and she'll need your support when she wakes.'

'You don't plan on even saying goodbye to her?' Pod asked sharply, outraged.

Jaime gazed at him beseechingly. 'If I do that, she'll try to stop me. Trust me, I'd have to treat her even more despicably than I am doing now by leaving without saying farewell, if I were forced to make her let me go if she knew my plans.'

'How can you do that to her?!' Pod demanded, feeling a sudden urge to throw the scroll Jaime had given him into the fire. 'I'm sorry, Ser Jaime, I mean no disrespect, but she'll be devastated-!'

'Do you think I don't know that? Do you think I won't be even more devastated by what I'm going to do?' Jaime said loudly, and he sighed as he leant back in his chair and clasped his hand to his face. 'I wanted to be good. I tried to be better. I tried to be the man she deserves, but…' He shook his head miserably. 'Do you know what the worst part is, Pod?'

There was a silence. Pod could only watch him with both pity and disappointment.

'That I love her. More than anything. More than my own life,' Jaime said, his voice breaking. 'But I have to break her heart in order to do the right thing.'

'Are you sure it's the right thing, milord?' Pod asked, wishing there was a way he could stop him.

Jaime raised his eyes helplessly to the ceiling. 'Is saving lives ever not the right thing? I have to be true to myself. I have to do what needs to be done,' he said earnestly. 'Cersei is my responsibility – I led her to this, I let her…manipulate me into doing all she needed for her to get to where she is now. I need to get her out of the capital, away from the danger and away from all the people she'll end up getting killed if this war continues.'

'I should stop you,' Pod said in a tremoring voice, looking both angry and afraid. 'On behalf of Lady Sansa, let alone Brienne, I should stop you. I should fight you.'

'Yes, you should. You'd probably beat me as well,' Jaime muttered, and he raised his eyebrows at him challengingly; they both knew Pod would never want to take up arms against Jaime, not when they had become friends.

Pod sighed in defeat. 'Do you really think you'll manage to convince your sister to give up the throne? To just…leave King's Landing?' he asked cynically.

'I've got to try. I've got to do something,' Jaime said desperately. 'I think Brienne will understand it, eventually. Help her to, if you can.'

'I'll try,' Pod said in a small voice, looking forlorn. 'I just wish it didn't have to be this way.'

'Me neither, Pod. Me neither,' Jaime said heavily and he rose to his feet. 'You're a good man. You're kind and loyal…and a tremendous fighter.'

Pod got up from his chair as well. 'I wouldn't be if it weren't for Ser Brienne.'

'Look after her for me. If I don't come back,' Jaime said, his voice quiet and pleading. 'Be there for her and…make sure she finds happiness with someone far more worthy than myself. She deserves only the very best.'

Pod nodded thoughtfully as Jaime began to walk away, but then spoke up. 'You may think that, Ser Jaime. But you're the one she chose,' he said, and Jaime stopped and turned back around to face him. 'You're the one she thinks she deserves. She clearly doesn't think you're as bad as all you make yourself out to be. And nor do I.'

Only the quiver of his eyes and lips betrayed how deeply moved Jaime was by Pod's statement…at least until he then crossed the room back towards him and hugged Pod. 'Thank you for that,' he said, clapping Pod on the shoulder as he broke free from him.

He turned to leave the library, wiping away a stray tear, but then turned back to Pod, who looked equally as tearful.

'Pod, when you see Brienne tomorrow, tell her I…tell her…' But he trailed off and shook his head. 'Oh, she knows.'

But she wouldn't know after tonight. She'd wake up to find his side of the bed empty, and she would doubt everything she thought she'd known during their past month together. He only had tonight to convince her that their love was real.

The castle was quiet when Jaime made his way up to their bedchambers; people must have retired to bed early. When he entered the room, he saw that Brienne had fallen asleep in her bedrobe on a chair by the hearth where a fire was blazing. She looked so peaceful, so content. When he shut the door, she stirred awake, and smiled hopefully at him as she rose to her feet. She hadn't tied her bedrobe properly, so there was a gap running down below her thigh. She really did have the most astonishingly long legs.

'Is everything all right?' Brienne asked breathlessly.

She knew it was a stupid question, but she needed him to reassure her. She had been so worried this past hour while he had been gone.

A lump rose to his throat, but Jaime smiled. 'It is now,' he murmured, crossing the room towards her.

He took her in his arms and kissed her as if he were a drowned man desperately seeking air. He shrugged his jacket off and walked her backwards towards the bed while she slipped off her bedrobe and fumbled to remove the rest of his clothes. Brienne was caught off guard by his intensity but enjoyed it; he'd never been more passionate, nor as loving, as he slowly caressed her skin with his lips and hands. They wrapped their arms around each other under the fur covers of the bed, and Brienne whispered his name like a prayer as he kissed and cherished every inch of her with a desperate hunger, as if trying to commit every part of her face and body to his memory.

Afterwards, he rested his forehead against Brienne's and pressed his tearful eyes shut in anguish as he held her close to him. They remained tangled in their embrace for quite some time, Brienne stroking his greying beard as he caressed her bare waist and gazed lovingly into her eyes. He didn't want her to go to sleep. Once she was asleep, then that was it and there was no more putting it off. But Brienne was unaware of this, and desperately tired.

Once she'd got up to wash herself and then put more wood on the fire, she yawned as she turned back to the bed. 'I think I might go to sleep now,' she said, getting back under the covers and nuzzling against him.

Jaime nodded slowly, wishing she wouldn't. 'You mean the world to me, you know,' he murmured, unable to look at her as he wrapped her tightly in his arms.

She nearly asked him what had brought such a statement on, but deep down she already knew the answer, so instead Brienne simply said in a fond tone, 'I know.'

She turned to face him and pressed her lips tenderly against his, her hand stroking his cheek.

Our last kiss, Jaime thought in anguish.

'Goodnight, Jaime,' Brienne murmured, her eyes already drooping as she rested her head against the pillow.

'Goodnight, my love,' Jaime whispered after a few moments.

But she'd already fallen asleep before she could hear him. Perhaps that was for the best.

In the eye of the storm raging through his mind, there was then a moment of quiet. A strange feeling of peace settled over him. As time steadily crept by, Jaime even almost fell asleep in Brienne's arms but managed to resist, and instead dwelled over his predicament, for what else was there left to do before he must leave?

He had made many mistakes. He had felt shame greater than most. And yet now here he was, lying awake, knowing that what he did tonight would be what history and the people he loved would forever remember him for. He felt dismayed at the mere thought, and yet he knew what must be done, no matter how distraught he was, no matter how full of regret he may be, no matter how driven he was by hatred.

Finally, Jaime slowly sat up in bed, being sure not to wake Brienne as he gently untangled his arms from around her. He watched her for a while as she slept and listened to the even rhythm of her breathing. He smiled as she let out a sigh of contentment when he stroked her arm with a trembling finger. Reluctantly, he then pulled away and forced himself out of the bed.

His clothes were scattered messily on the floor from when Brienne had undressed him; he quickly put them on, but quietly, and then forced the golden hand onto his right wrist. A tear trickled down his cheek, but he barely noticed as he checked his satchel, making sure it still contained the food, drink and other supplies he had acquired for his journey earlier today. Once he was ready, he sat down heavily on the chair at the foot of their bed and stared gloomily at the glowing pile of embers in the hearth. It was still warm in the room, and yet Jaime was shivering all over.

Pod's words from before were filling him with doubt. Was he sure he was doing the right thing? He had never felt more full of doubt and turmoil than he did in this very moment, the moment where he had to decide, the moment that would change everything. When he'd come to Winterfell, he'd thought that he would be killed in battle, and suddenly right now as he stared into the dying fire embers he wished he had been; death would have been easier than being faced with this choice. Not that he had much of one.

Brienne was his choice. But Cersei was his obligation.

He wondered how this had ever come to be. He could remember the way he'd felt when he and Brienne had looked upon each other for the first time in disgust that night they'd met. He could still hear Catelyn Stark's words vividly in his ear.

'You are no knight. You have forsaken every vow you ever took.'…'She is a truer knight than you will ever be, Kingslayer.'

He hated himself more right now than he had done even then, locked up in chains and left alone to ponder his sins for over a year.

Jaime swallowed loudly as the wind continued to howl outside just like the ferocious storm in his mind. He should never have let himself fall in love with Brienne, or her with him. He should never have stayed with her here in Winterfell. But he'd been selfish and had tricked himself into thinking that he could be successful in this alternative life, allowing himself to carry on daydreaming in this blissfully happy fantasy world that he had been living in with her for too long. But he was bound by his code of honour, and by his unbreakable bond with the mother of his child. He wished he wasn't the man he was, but there was nothing he could do to fight against this. He could no longer ignore his unwavering loyalty to his family. And he could no longer ignore the self-loathing that was pushing him back to his sister, his hatred for everything he had done wrong in his life. He was utterly helpless and had never felt more defeated in his life.

'You really do love her. You poor fool. She'll be the end of you…She's a disease.'

Olenna Tyrell had been right. Jaime regretted more so than anyone his part in spreading the disease of Cersei Lannister, and yet he couldn't break the addiction, he couldn't find a cure. It had been going on far too long for that. He had been given a chance at happiness and a different life from the terrible one he had always known, and yet he couldn't take it. Because he couldn't escape her. Cersei had mistreated him and abused him for years without him realising it, and yet even now he couldn't betray her. She kept clinging onto him and now he had no pride or dignity left. Whether it was right or wrong, he knew she needed him. And she was his family, and pregnant with his child. What else was he to do?

He slowly turned to look back at Brienne and remembered how proud he had felt going back to rescue her from certain death at Harrenhal. Whereas now, with Cersei? It was a similar situation, and yet he felt nothing but shame. His gaze filled with tears once more as he watched her sleeping, completely oblivious to what he was about to do to her. He felt his chest tighten as he thought of Brienne waking in the cold morning to find his space in the bed empty and his clothes gone…with no explanation. But he couldn't wake her now and he couldn't tell her. It would only make this harder, and she would never let him go on his own. He couldn't risk saying goodbye; it would be too dangerous for her if she followed him.

Would he be able to make it and come back to her once he had secured the safety of his sister and baby? Would he ever see Brienne again? Would she even want to see him? Or would this be truly it? The end of their story…

In another life, or a different world perhaps – one where he had been stronger, one where Cersei had not been pregnant, one where he had able to fight against the addictive pull of his sister – he would have stayed with Brienne. She was the embodiment of everything a pure, innocent love ought to be. What he had with her was wonderful; they had been through so much together, and he had been so happy and carefree being with her this past month. He had been overwhelmed with joy, a joy bursting from him just like when Myrcella had told Jaime that she had been glad he was her father…but the joy had been ripped from him – just like when Myrcella had died in his arms – the moment Sansa told him of Cersei's imminent, inevitable fate.

And duty came first before everything. Even love.

Jaime took one last look at Brienne sleeping on the bed, the woman he knew he would always love, even long after he was gone, and yet she would never know it herself. He wished he was worthy of her. He wished he could meet his end in the way he had always wanted, in her arms as an old man, rather than the gruesome demise he would no doubt meet if his plan were to fail. He wished he didn't have to do this. He wished he deserved something better. But he didn't. He deserved nothing different than what Cersei was going to get.

Slowly, Jaime turned away from Brienne and got up from his seat. He felt almost dizzy as he slowly walked across the room, and realised in that moment that he simply couldn't go on without her. Not now, not after everything they had been through together. He had tried living without Brienne since they had met, and he had struggled. But by choosing to leave this room, he was choosing that very life he had hated, a life he never wanted again. And he was no longer himself by choosing that life. He could feel himself withdrawing further in, becoming empty, a mere shell, a ghost. That was all that was left of him, he realised, as he neared towards the door. A ghost.

His hand automatically grasped the handle of Widow's Wail before he thought better of it and he instead placed it down on the table, knowing that he had no use for his true sword now. It needed to stay close to Oathkeeper; after all, he didn't want their swords to ever be parted again. He would pick up a spare sword from the armoury instead. He gave Widow's Wail a farewell pat, before pressing his fingers to his lips, and then pressing his fingers to Oathkeeper's hilt, glistening beside Brienne's armour, the armour decorated with the sigils of both their houses married together, as they had always been meant to be.

Swallowing, Jaime moved silently over to the door and opened it, nauseous with the knowledge that he was leaving the entirety of his heart and the man he was – or rather, the man he so dearly wanted to be – behind with Brienne.

Forgive me, my love.

He closed the door behind him, and knew that he was Jaime Lannister no more.