Brienne will never see a light again. Even if she stood under the bright summer sun it would not be enough to tear the darkness occupying her heart.

-/*/-

Memories of the past few months swirl in front of her eyes. They are the only thing she can see in the deep darkness of Red Keep dungeons.

She would erase everything if she could. It would be easier to forget. To not remember how happy she was. To love and think she is loved in return. To be one heart and one soul with the only person who ever saw her.

Now this love feels like a knife in her heart. Cold and sharp.

-/*/-

Cersei's visits do no good. Every time Brienne hears the opening door, she hopes for any soldier instead of the queen. Hard fists are more welcomed than sneering remarks veiled in honeyed words coming from the queen.

-/*/-

Brienne doesn't know how much time has passed. Nor does she care. It doesn't matter. Soon they will execute her as if she hasn't already died.

-/*/-

The cold stones freeze her to bones. There is nothing to cover herself with except for wet stinky straw.

Involuntarily her thoughts go back to Winterfell. In her mind, Brienne can still feel the softness of the furs surrounding them and the heat of his body lying on top of her.

She still remembers him whispering the words of love that used to set her whole body on fire.

The warm touch of his hand on her face when he kissed her the first time.

The last night full of desperate passion and the fervent flame in his eyes.

And the thick covers left in a pool of water.

-/*/-

He appears in her dreams every time Brienne drifts into an uneasy sleep. Jaime, her Jaime. With a soft loving smile and mischievous spark in his eyes. He holds her close to his chest and Brienne can swear she hears his racing heart singing about his love for her.

But sometimes it's not Jaime who comes to her. It's the Kingslayer. Arrogant and mocking.

She never knows who she will see as well as she doesn't know who she dreads more. Both are so real. Jaime and Kingslayer. Like two sides of a coin. Two sides of a man.

The man she loved.

-/*/-

The door slowly opens revealing two figures of soldiers.

She prepares for punches but they do not come.

"Stay quiet," one of them commands her in barely a whisper as the second unlocks the chains.

"Move," she hears a hiss in the darkness. They do not have a torch as usual.

Why are they keeping their voices down? Brienne wonders while trying to stand on her wobbly legs.

-/*/-

They move through the long and dark tunnels. At some point, Brienne needs to bend almost in half to be able to go through them. After seemingly hours of walking, she finally feels fresh air. They are outside the castle walls and it is dark, she notices surprised.

Would Cersei execute her during an attempted escape?

Few people are waiting for them. They wear simple indistinctive clothes instead of armour and without a word they take Brienne with them.

-/*/-

The narrow streets of Flea Bottom look abandoned just as a building they step inside.

It's dirty and unkempt.

Brienne is given some bland food and soon she's left in a tiny room with a hard narrow bed.

She is not chained anymore but she knows the guards are standing outside her door.

She doesn't care. She's too exhausted to do anything except for finding sleep.

-/*/-

The next day Brienne wakes up with a startling feeling of complete disorientation.

It takes her a minute to recognize the abandoned house and another ten to calm down her breathing.

She steps down to the common room with a guard at her side to discover that lady Sansa is also there. Thin and pale, with bruises on her face.

Not knowing what to say, Brienne stays silent. But deep inside she is glad her lady is there and alive.

-/*/-

Their captors do not say who they are and who has sent them.

Yet, they will not let them leave.

"We need to stay low for some time." It's the only thing lady Sansa manages to get from reticent guards.

-/*/-

They spend several days there.

These are not dungeons anymore but they remain to be prisoners anyway.

Guarded and locked.

-/*/-

Time passes slowly without anything to occupy herself. Even looking through the tiny windows and observing the streets is not allowed.

So Brienne just sits and waits. Sometimes she feels Sansa's look on herself and catches an uncertain expression on the lady's face but now Brienne knows better than to respond.

She sits and waits.

Unwanted thoughts of him seem to never leave her mind and Brienne hates herself for remembering him. For being so pathetic and desperate for his love and affection. For believing his words.

Words are wind, she was always told. How could she forget that?

Because he knighted me, fought beside me, desired me, married me. Could the actions lie as well as words?

The more she dwells on it the more confused she gets.

Where is the truth? In which words? In which actions?

It doesn't matter now, Brienne scolds herself. In the end, he chose to go back to Cersei. That is the truth.

-/*/-

To somehow distract her mind, more and more often Brienne thinks about escape. If she managed to get any kind of weapon, she would be able to fight the guards.

But what next?

Where would she go? There is no place for her anywhere.

She can't return to her father. Cersei would come after him if she knew he helped his disgraced daughter.

She could return Sansa to safety. But where would it be? Winterfell has fallen and they wouldn't be welcomed in any other place they go. Maybe leaving Westeros would be the best option. If Sansa agrees to come with her.

She won't, the certainty of this weighs heavily in Brienne's heart.

-/*/-

One night they are moved to another house. This one is everything their previous location wasn't.

Brienne and Sansa suspiciously look around, trying to comprehend what hides behind all of this. What trap did Cersei prepare for them?

-/*/-

Brienne is escorted to a room upstairs. A hot steaming bath is waiting for her in the corner together with clean expensive-looking clothes on a nearby chair.

A young maid starts helping Brienne with her dirty rags, but she is quickly dismissed.

Brienne doesn't want anyone around until she understands what is going on. Yet the bath looks too enticing to ignore. After weeks of travel and weeks spent in dungeons, Brienne grew a new skin of grime and dirt.

What harm could come from having a bath?

-/*/-

Brienne lowers herself in hot water, her beaten muscles relax. She lets herself be enveloped in the bliss of warmth and pleasant scent of something Brienne is not able to name.

She starts scrubbing the dirt from her skin, the water gets darker with every move of the hard brush. Brienne scrubs harder wishing her failure and her guilt could be washed away as easily as grime.

Not so hard, you'll scrub the skin off.

Brienne raises her head and looks around. There is no one in the room except for her.

She shakes her head, hoping to get rid of his voice which was haunting her in her darkest dreams.

After drying herself with a soft towel she puts prepared clothes on. They were clearly made for someone else, with slightly shorter legs and arms.

Clean and dressed, Brienne examines the room. The wide comfortable bed with feather pillows and quilts. The shelves with a variety of different books, the expensive covers on a floor and on walls. Whoever lives here does have a taste for luxury.

-/*/-

Her uneasy sleep is interrupted by steps outside her room. Someone is clearly in a hurry to get on the second floor. Brienne sits on the bed.

In a moment the door to her room bursts open and a silhouette of a man appears in the dim light of dying hearth.

She knows him. Just as she knows that he shouldn't be here.

He can't. It's just a dream which soon will turn into a nightmare.

In a few strides, he is beside her, wrapping his arms tightly around her. Brienne doesn't want him here, yet she can't find it in her to get away from his embrace. His arms are so warm and solid, and safe. No, it's deception, the illusion of her tired mind. Just as the heated words of love that are whispered in her ear. Words, her heart so desperately wanted to hear once.

"I'm here. You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you."

Lies, lies, lies.

This is just a dream. It will be gone soon and she'll wake up alone.

Until then she can pretend that nothing happened, no lies and no betrayal. Dream, where she can pretend, they are happy, embraced in each other's arms.

It's just a dream. It will be over soon.

"Jaime… Don't leave me alone."

"Here, I'm here. My Brienne, my wench, my love."

-/*/-

The rays of the morning sun gently illuminate the room when Brienne opens her eyes. She is lying in bed, feeling light and rested. She hasn't slept that well since…

She turns her head and freezes. She is not alone.

He is here. Solid and warm.

It was not a dream.

And she wishes it was.

But he is here and it is not a dream.

His arms are real and his hand stroking her hair. And his familiar masculine scent and the softest expression in his beautiful green eyes.

"Good morning, wench. Or should I rather say good midday?" Jaime says, noticing she's awake. He smiles at her like they are still in Winterfell. Like nothing ever happened.

Brienne sits up abruptly and ignoring the shocked and hurt expression on his face, quickly leaves the bed.

Jaime follows.

"What are you doing here?" She asks, finding the furthest spot from him and crossing her arms on her chest.

"Brienne, I came to you the moment I could."

Jaime makes a step closer.

"Stay away from me."

"Brienne,—"

"Leave."

"No." He stands defiantly in front of her with a stern expression on his face. "I won't go anywhere. Not before we talk."

"There is nothing to talk about. I know what you did."

"Do you?"

"You betrayed us."

Jaime closes his eyes as if he's shielding himself from the thrown accusation. When he speaks, his voice is hollow and dull.

"It was never my intention to do so."

"Wasn't it? You stayed and let us believe—"

"Us?" he repeats, taking a step closer. "I have never really cared about what the northerners believe or not. It was only you that mattered."

"You succeeded. I believed you. I thought…" A thick lump comes to her throat. "And in the end, you just used me."

"No, I didn't—"

"Didn't you? You knew I trusted you, you knew I loved you, you knew I would let you in my bed. And that I would vouch for you when you'll be there, waiting for a convenient moment to betray us and return to your sister."

"If I wanted to return to her as you say, why would I bother to do any of it? Why didn't I simply go back right after the battle? Why would I risk staying longer in Winterfell at lady Stark's mercy? I wasn't needed inside the castle. We stood no chance against her army. You know that as well as I do."

She stays silent, not knowing how to respond to this. Surely there must be a valid explanation, a reason which made him act like he cared, like he loved her.

"Brienne, I didn't return to her," Jaime says again when she fails to provide an answer. His voice is tender and soft and it makes her think about other words he told her once in the cosiness of their shared room in Winterfell. The words which couldn't be true because if they were and he still decided to...

"The queen seemed to have a different opinion on that matter," Brienne says to chase away the scary thought threatening to break into her mind and question every painful truth about him she was made to accept for the past few weeks.

"Even her you would believe over me?" Jaime doesn't even try to hide the bitterness in his voice. "Whatever she told you, it's not true. I did not return to her."

"Did she lie about your… your… encounters?"

"I..." Jaime falters and Brienne doesn't need to hear anything else.

"Of course. Maybe it's not her who has to lie."

"It's not what you think." Shame appears on his face. "I didn't want… I wasn't ever there… And she..."

"I don't need your explanations, ser. Why would I care who you bed?"

"Because you are my bloody wife!"

His angered words bring her back to that night when they married in a godswood, surrounded by the dancing snowflakes. Sometimes Brienne thinks if it was just her imagination, the vision she created being drunk on love and trust and affection. But deep down, she knows that it was true. He asked for her hand and she gave it to him. She is his wife. She has been for months but now it feels more like a burden than the source of absolute happiness it once was.

"Am I?" she questions him, not bothering how harsh her words sound. The memory of that night so vividly plays in her mind and only now Brienne realises what had happened. The argument sealed with a marriage vow. "You did not marry me to cover your real motives and goals? Am I not your dirty secret you tried so hard to keep from anyone? You don't have to worry about this. I don't even think it was valid anyway."

Jaime looks like she has just slapped him with her words. His face suddenly turns ashen.

"I meant every word I said in the godswood. Even if the whole world deems my words as dishonest and false, even if you choose to see our marriage as invalid, I will not. My vow to you was honest and true and I don't intend to break it."

"You already did."

Jaime takes a deep breath.

"You trusted me with your life and all I did was to put you in danger. By not stopping Cersei when there was still a chance, by associating you with my disgraced name. I couldn't let you die because of me. So yes, I did everything in my power to keep you alive, even if it meant becoming a traitor, giving up Winterfell and myself to my sister's hands."

His words sound so sincere and genuine that Brienne wants nothing more than to believe him. But she can't. She won't make the same mistake twice. She doesn't have another heart to break.

"I never asked you for that."

"I knew you never would. You would be first to give up your life for the Stark girl. And I couldn't accept that. Your life is worth more than your vows."

"It wasn't for you to decide."

"Yet I made the decision. Hate me for that and curse me but I do not regret doing it. I'd do it again, I would go through each of Seven hells if it meant your life and your safety."

Brienne is silent, not knowing what to make of all of this. His words weigh down on her like a mass of rocks. If he wanted to protect her, why does it feel like a betrayal? It's too much to bear for her heart, too much for her broken trust.

"Brienne." She hears him whispering her name as he steps closer.

This time she doesn't have enough strength to escape and she ends up in his arms again. Strong and solid. His only hand pulling her body closer to his as her head rests on his shoulder.

She hates how good it feels to be again beside him. And to realise that despite everything, she missed him. So much that it scares her and makes her feel even more pathetic than she already is.

"Do you believe me? You have to…"

Does she?

"If that is true, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you trust me instead of going behind my back? Instead of destroying my trust and making me question everything I knew about you?"

"I wanted to. I would. But there was no other way…"

There was. There always is.

"And what now?" Brienne asks instead, stepping away from him. "It doesn't matter while I remain your sister's prisoner."

"Not anymore."

"But the guards—"

"They are my men and they are here to keep you safe. You are free to leave any moment."

She doesn't meet his eyes when she answers. "I will."

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know but I can't stay here."

"Brienne, please-"

"No."

Jaime nods in response. The utter resignation on his face makes her turn her eyes away from him again.

"I would suggest you stay here for a while. There is one person that would like to see you. I have already sent for him." He lingers at the door for a while like he is waiting for any sign from her that could give him a reason to stay. None comes. "I will take my leave then. Goodbye, Brienne."