The sun rose again, warm and bright. The Red Keep stood tall and strong once more. The repairs from the Dragon Queen's destruction were complete, and save for a few minor changes to accommodate the needs of the new king the fortress appeared unscathed. Westeros was slowly rebuilding, becoming stronger than it had ever been. It was as if nothing had ever happened. But something had happened, something terrible and dreadful and sad. Those who had lived through The War of the Five Kings, the return of Daenarys Targaryen, and The Long Night's battle against the Night King and his dead minions would never be the same.

Jaime Lannister had been a casualty not only of the conflicts fought for power, but of the twisted obsession he had fostered throughout life for his own sister. In the end Jaime had quit that guilty incestuous compulsion for the sake of his true soulmate, the woman he loved more than life itself, Brienne of Tarth. He had sacrificed himself so she would always be safe, and the Gods had seen fit to make him her protector, for all time. It had been his choices that brought him finally to stand unseen at Brienne's bedside within her newly appointed quarters in Kings Lanting marveling at her majesty, while at the same time lamenting all that might have been.

'Lord Commander.' Jaime whispered to himself as he gazed adoringly at Brienne. He could barely contain the pride that burst within him at her accomplishments, as well as her new station.

The Gods had charged him with choosing the man who would marry his own lady love, and he was certain of his selection. Fate had worked in such a way that the worthy champion would arrive in King Landing within a matter of days. Jaime wondered if King Bran was aware of the Gods' plan. The boy ruler had done away with much of the old conventions under which the Small Council and the Monarchy itself had operated. One of those outdated practices was the Oath of Celibacy once required for members of the Kings Guard. The promise he himself had sworn, and foresaken quickly and often with Cersei. The thought sickened him. If he had known Brienne was waiting along his life's path, he would have never allowed his lust to lead him. He would have resisted even his sister's best efforts to turn him to her affections. It was a useless regret. He could change nothing now. All he could do was watch over Brienne, and see to it that her life was happy and fulfilled, the way his would have been with her. As it was, the man with whom he would entrust Brienne's heart would soon take over the role of Master of War, and his life would become entwined with hers. Jaime's challenge now would be to somehow get Brienne to accept the new contender for her heart.

Almost as if she sensed his presence Brienne murmured sweetly, still lost in a dream, as sleep began to lift its trance from her. She stretched and rolled toward the empty side of the bed where Jaime had been when they shared their nights at Winterfell. Unconsciously, Brienne reached for him as she had done the moment she realized he was gone. For a fleeting second a contented smile crossed her face.

'Had she been dreaming of me?' Jaime wondered, hopefully.

The expression of anticipation and familiarity left her features as she opened her eyes only to realize once more that Jaime was not beside her. What was left of the air in her lungs, was spent in a disappointed sigh. She stared for a moment at the empty pillow, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Then, she unknowingly lifted her gaze to where Jaime stood guard over her. Her sad forlorn stare pierced through him, and he was crushed by the sadness he saw within her.

Brienne lay huddled beneath the soft quilt that skimmed her form. In the warm lush heat of Kings Landing there was no need for the thick furs under which she had slept in the North. As he watched, Jaime noticed how the cover cascaded over Brienne's frame. It glided, caressed, and disappeared around her body's captivating curves. The ones usually kept hidden beneath her shining immaculate armor. Those he had feasted his hungry eyes upon in the bath they shared at Harrenhal, and found his question of weeks earlier to Catelyn Stark of whether her imposing guard was woman or man answered in a swell of lustful amazement that rushed straight to his cock. Brienne's glorious enticing figure was a secret that only he had known, a treasure only he had been bold enough to discover. Even as a specter, Jaime felt his body react to the thoughts of enjoying all of her deep within the throws of the passion they had known.

After a long moment, Jaime grew concerned as Brienne did not stir. Never, when they were together had she ever woke in dread of the duties before her. Surely Brienne had not found the honor of her position as Lord Commander distasteful. He waited, worried. It was when she sighed again that Jaime realized it was not her responsibilities that weighed heavy over her shoulders. It was facing the world without him that made Brienne reluctant to move from the protection of her slumber. Jaime's guilt poured over him like the molten steel from which the two weapons that still connected them were forged. He had thought his absence would free her from a life tied to a dishonored and disgraced wretch. Instead, he saw now that his abandonment had placed an even darker shadow over her heart. More than anything he had ever known, Jaime longed to kiss away Brienne's sadness.

Finally, when she could no longer justify the avoidance provided by her bed, Brienne dragged herself sluggishly from its security. She sat on the edge of the thick mattress, gathering her strength until she forced her legs to stand, and her feet to propel her forward. As she walked, Brienne passed so closed to Jaime's unseen form that he thought she would walk right through him. The shock that registered in his brain at the feel of her wrist grazing his hip soon turned to the rush of exhilaration at her nearness, and the familiar reflexive urge for her. Brienne was unaware of both the dilemma and the physical frustration she had caused him. As if a ritual, she paused beside Oathkeeper hanging on the wide curved spindle of the bedframe.

Jaime's gaze traveled down Brienne's strong shapely arm to the sword he had given her. He recalled his nervousness upon presenting the magnificent Valyrian steel weapon to the woman he could not admit he loved, fearful she would refuse it. She had been so innocent, so inexperienced with declarations of devotion, that she had not realized then it was his very heart he gave to her. With a loving smile Jaime thought of how he had commissioned the leather and tapestry scabbard which she wore at her side each day since. Even it was embellished with images of the organ in his chest that belonged to her. Oathkeeper had been the only promise he could give her. With stately lions upon its ruby studded hilt, it was obviously a Lannister sword, even Cersei had known at the Dragon Pit that by giving it to Brienne, Jaime had claimed her as his own. Now, watching her regard Oathkeeper with such a bittersweet sadness, Jaime's thoughts traveled to the field at Riverrun when she had tried to return it. That heart in his chest which was hers and hers alone nearly stopped beating when he saw her that day. It almost broke when she handed the blade back to him. 'It's yours. It will always be yours.' He vowed. It was then that he realized she at last understood what he meant. He knew then that she loved him, too. It was for that love that he sacrificed his own life. As he watched her now, Jaime had never known such deep sadness, nor such assurance that he had done the right thing. Brienne would live. She would be happy and loved. Brienne would have the life that was meant to be hers, he would see to that.

Far too gently for the strong elements from which the grand weapon was forged, Brienne softly fingered the weapon's fine gold work, and thought of Jaime. Her heart skipped a shallow beat. Jaime's own sword, Widows Wail, had never been found after the collapse that had taken his life. She shuddered to think it might have been taken from his body. Brienne could not bear the thought of Jaime's blade in the hands of some opportunistic thief. She could almost feel Oathkeeper crying out for the other half of its soul, as she did for hers.

Briennne took a slow somber breath as her touch moved purposely over Oathkeeper's rich textured metal. She remembered Jaime's face and how softly he had stared the moment he presented it to her, hoping she would approve, hoping she would accept his gift. His eyes had begged her to understand that it was so much more than a weapon he gave to her. He had armed her with his own heart, protected her with steel the color of the bluest sapphires forged with measurements he had committed to memory after seeing her form only once through a fevered haze. The grand blue armor fit her perfectly. Brienne understood now, that the task with which he entrusted her, was only partly to aid Lady Sansa. Jaime's aim was her own protection even then. He realized once Cersei had cornered Brienne at Joffrey's wedding, that of course the Queen knew Jaime's heart belonged to the Evenstar's daughter, the woman he would one day knight. So he had sent Brienne as far from the Capital as a quest for a for a lost girl whom most considered dead could take her. Neither believing they would see each other again. The search Jaime had concocted had probably saved her life. She could only imagine how enraged the beautiful Cersei Lannister must have been at the thought that her own brother, whom she had beguiled with her manipulations for so long, was in love with the Maid of Tarth. Brienne chuckled drolly to herself. Had she truly been so naive in those days?

Still, the thought of Jaime's love for her filled Brienne with a strange unaccustomed pride. At times her heart sang with contrite amusement to think that she, "Brienne the Beauty," had taken the heart of a man from the most desirable woman in Westeros. The jest with which those cruel boys had scoffed at her so long ago rang through her ears. It felt far less viscous now. However, what consumed her most was that very love itself. It was real. Brienne knew Jaime would never have played her for a fool, especially not with that. She was sure he had loved her, as she loved him. Every word they had ever spoken, every longing stare, every hidden meaning that had ever passed between them had proven such. Had it not been so, Jaime would never have come North. He would not have fought the dead at her side. He would not have stayed. Yet, he had done all of those things. He came to her side to fight for the living, even at the risk of his own life. Daenarys Targaryen could well have ordered Jaime executed for killing her father, The Mad King Aerys, when he arrived at Winterfell. Jaime has been the man who maimed Brandon Stark. With a history such as his, he might have found no compatriots there. He came anyway, came to her, came for her. Then when the battle had been won, Jaime had not forsaken her. They lived together almost as man and wife for a glorious moon. A veiled smile crossed Brienne's face at the memory of the passion they had shared. Never would she doubt the depth and truth of Jaime's love for her.

All the while Cersei was losing her game of power Jaime had remained at Winterfell, pledging his love to Brienne and dreaming of the future they would build. Even his brother had noticed the happiness which seemed to radiate from him. When it was thought certain that Cersei would meet her end by either execution or dragon fire Jaime stayed, making a life with Brienne at Winterfell. He had made no allusions of wanting to save Cersei, had never made mention of returning south to be her protector. It was only when word was received that the Queen had annihilated half of Daenarys Targaryen's forces, and seemed destined to remain the victor upon the throne, did he leave the one who believed in him so terribly alone. Brienne had wondered why it was that Jaime should have left her then, when his sister was winning and was in no present danger. She had lived in the shadow of that confusion since she watched Jaime ride through the gates of Winterfell, his shoulders slumped, his whole countenance already defeated. She had begged him to stay. She begged him not to die, but he had.

Brienne remembered the letter Lord Tyrion had ordered hand delivered to her, as if she were Jaime's wife. The way that he described finding Jaime and their sister in the ruins of Red Keep had confirmed Brienne's suspicion. Jaime had not been trying to escape. She could only conclude that he wanted to die with his sister, together, the way they had entered the world. The thought stung the back of her throat, and dug her nails into her palms until she was rid of it.

The face that Brienne showed to the world was of a woman resolute in her duties and driven by her goals. She had achieved the coveted and lauded title of Lord Commander of the Kings Guard. Not only was she the first first woman in all of Westeros to be knights, she was now the most celebrated warrior in the land. She would dispatch her responsibilities as if they had been the only thing she had ever wanted. She would be the most honorable and dedicated leader to ever be called the most venerable knight in The Realm. Once her time in The King's service was done, Brienne would be Evenstar and assume her role as the leader of Tarth, her father's heir.

Few knew the tempest that swirled within Brienne's heart and mind, the one she tried to hide even from herself. Podrick understood the destinations to which Brienne's thoughts traveled in her quiet moments. Queen Sansa discerned the secret imaginings which would but for a moment, and almost imperceptibly, lift Brienne's reflections from her tasks. Brienne thought that even Lord Tyrion suspected the subject of her private concentrations when his tone would become soft in her direction. There were times when Brienne thought she could almost sense Jaime near. Her mind glimpsed a whisper of him in the shadows. Faintly, if she tried very hard, Brienne could almost hear his voice. It was folly, nothing remained of him, save for the undying love she held for him. At Winterfell, after he was gone, she had tried to force his memory as far away as she could. It was too painful for her to contemplate. The attempt was in vain. She could not chase him from her thoughts, or her heart. It was a relief when The Queen in the North asked her to accompany her brother to Kings Landing, to command his Guard. Winterfell, where Jaime had loved her, where her every memory centered upon him, had become nearly unbearable. Now at the Red Keep, living and working in the very place Jaime had died, Brienne was even more keenly aware of the extent to which she missed him. She felt Jaime everywhere.

This morning, strangely distracted from her duties ahead and occupied with her own thoughts, Brienne padded softly upon bare feet to the open window of her sleeping chamber. Jaime followed, his every sense focused upon her movements. His gaze traveled over the long sensual lines of her body. His arms ached to hold her. His lips hungered for the taste of hers. Jaime stood unnoticed at Brienne's side, and missed her even more.

At the casement, Brienne held her eyes shut for a long while, leaning her head back, lost in her own thoughts. The bright sunlight washed over her like a thick warm rain. She seemed to soak it in, needing its energies to fuel her now, as if its rays sustained her. Brienne inhaled a long slow breath. Beneath the thin chemise she wore, her perfect breasts rose as her chest expanded with the sigh she greedily drew inward. Jaime was once again aroused at the memory of the way his hands had wandered over their round soft curves. He stood so close to her that he could feel the warm caress of her skin upon his. He sensed the rhythm of her heart as it beat in time with his own. Unable to control the desire that raged in him, Jaime leaned even closer to Brienne and laid a tender spectral kiss over the nape of her neck.

Suddenly, without provocation, Brienne shivered. The tiny hairs along her spine rose. She gasped at the sensation, and brought her hand up to cover the place where Jaime had touched her. She looked around, alarmed, but her eyes peered through him. There was nothing there. Brienne could not see him. She was not aware that he was with her. She could not know that it had been Jaime's love that had reached across the barriers of hidden worlds, and pledged itself to her once more. Brienne found no understanding of why her heart should be racing as it had on the night they shared their first kiss.

Jaime stood beside Brienne, holding his breath needlessly, fearful he had done something wrong and the Gods would snatch him from her side. When he showed no signs of dissolving into another dimension, Jaime relaxed. Although shocked at the response he had just elicited from Brienne, he watched her sadly as the sensation faded. Before Brienne allowed speculations to venture down an unimaginable path, she pulled her awareness back to practical and reasonable explanations. She passed off the unexplained experience as a breeze that had moved over her skin, or simply her body regulating its temperature after having lain in bed. She also sighed heavily, at the task which she had set forth for the day.

Nodding to herself, Brienne's expression was hesitant, apprehensive. "Well." She said to herself stiffly, emotionlessly. "I don't suppose there is a reason to put this off any longer." She warned herself.

Jaime saw Brienne square her shoulders and steady her chin. She turned from the window, and walked across the floor, her back to him. As he watched her he could not help but feel deprived of the moment they just shared. As Brienne readied herself for whatever it was that lay ahead, Jaime's mind centered upon the spark of an idea. He stood frozen considering the possibilities. If she had felt the shadow of his kiss upon her skin, what other affectations might he be capable of to gain her attentions?

Jaime followed Brienne at her heels. He could tell that whatever was the chore she had set to complete, it was a deed she dreaded. To anyone else she appeared her usual steadfast self traveling the passageways of The Red Keep. However, Jaime noticed the small cracks that began to appear around her edges which only he would know. As was her normal habit, Brienne rested a hand upon Oathkeeper as she walked. Today, her fingers trembled around the golden lion head of the weapon's hilt. It took only a few turns for Jaime to realize where her steps led.

The last time Jaime trod the path over which he followed Brienne, the Dragon Queen was wrecking havoc from above, setting the world on fire. This was the trail where he had dragged Cersei when the Keep was falling, determined to complete his objective, to send her to the Hells so that Brienne would always be safe. Now, he followed the one he loved as she confronted her own demon.

"No, My Love." Jaime begged. "Please, do not go there." His desperate appeal floated silently to her ears.

Suddenly, as if she heard him, Brienne halted beneath a coffered archway where several corridors converged, snaking off toward all the escape routes Jaime had not taken. He almost heard the lump she forced down her throat as she stood staring at the small open patch of stone ahead. Her shoulders rose and fell with the rasping breathes she could not control as she tried to center herself, to garner the strength that was fast failing her.

After a long frozen pause Brienne stepped forward. Jaime implored the Gods to stop her, but they did not answer. Each day since she had arrived in Kings Landing Brienne had tried to force herself to this place. She traversed the distance from her quarters to where Jaime's life had ended a hundred times, fighting the voice within that screamed for her to run as far as she could from the now bright rebuilt passageway. To Brienne it would always be dark and haunted. Perhaps she was bargaining time with a ransom that was not hers.

Every time her courage failed, Brienne comforted her heart with memories of Jaime. She made herself believe that if she did not go, he would not be gone. If she did not visit the scene of his final stand, Jaime would still live, somewhere. She would not have to say goodbye. As she had lain in her bed among her dreams, somewhere between the Heaven she knew with Jaime and the Hell she now experienced without him, Brienne realized she could no longer delay the inevitable. This was the first time she had ventured this far. For some reason, something told her this had to be the day she would face her worst fear. She would at last accept Jaime's death.

Timidly, Brienne approached the very spot where Jaime had died. Her entire body felt numb as she stared at the dark circle that stained the floor. Even in the short time since the tragedy, the deep red had turned to brown, almost making the blotch seem part of the dirt. Brienne knew better. The servants and craftsmen who had cleared the debris, the clergy and guards who had removed the bodies, all had attempted to clean the dried blood from the stone. Yet, it remained, the only evidence that lives had been lost there. Brienne knew not whether it had drained from Jaime's veins or Cersei's. She was uncertain which would have been worse.

Jaime could not tell if Brienne even drew breath as she stood, lost in her own painful thoughts. She simply stared, her eyes devoid of the emotions he knew tormented her under the hardened surface which a lifetime of pain and loss had cultivated. Shame ate at Jaime's soul to think that she now counted him one of those miseries. Brienne had dominated Jaime's mind and possessed his heart since he first witnessed her dispatch three armed Stark guards to avenge the deaths of a few whores she had not even known. He memorized every inch of her body while still nearly incapacitated with fever when she stood defiant and naked from the bath they shared at Harrenhal. So precise was his memory of her glorious form, he had commissioned armor for her protection that fit like a glove. Her every motion, habit, and inclination had gripped his thoughts even while he had been with Cersei. As he stood at her side watching her mourn him, Jaime sensed her torment, and watched the bitter tears forming on her lashes. He saw his blood spread out upon the floor, yet strangely, felt nothing. Now, as it was then, his only concern was Brienne. Her heart seemed not broken, but missing from a gaping hole which he himself, the one who loved her the most, had torn in her chest.

"Oh! Ser Brienne." Lord Tyrion's voice from behind rousted her from her grief. "I beg your pardon. I did not know anyone would be down here." He apologized, sheepishly.

Jaime almost smiled at the sight of Tyrion standing respectfully only a few paces away. In that moment he understood that it was not just Brienne that he had given up when he chose to bring an end to Cersei's madness. He did not realized how much he missed Tyrion. He had not thought how hard his decision would be for his little brother, and wished that he had said something more in farewell to him the night Tyrion freed him from Daenarys Targaryen's troops. Jaime had lied to him then, understanding that Tyrion would surely not free him to continue his unspeakable journey. He had wished not to burden Tyrion with the knowledge of his plan. Somehow, though, as he now saw the pain on his brother's face, Jaime felt perhaps he might have understood. Guilt gnawed at Jaime for the way he had underestimated his brother's loyalty and protection. Mostly however, he missed Tyrion and wished that he might speak with him just once more.

Brienne snapped to attention, straightening quickly to her full height, and sniffed hard against the sobs in her throat. She quickly wiped a trail of water from her cheek with the back of her sword hand as she turned to address Jaime's brother.

"Forgive me, My Lord." She spoke formally, regretfully. "I should have realized the significance of this place to you." Brienne conceded, almost embarrassed at her assumption. "I did not mean to intrude." She bowed her head reverently, unable to meet Tyrion's sympathetic gaze.

"You have every right to be here." Tyrion assured Brienne, stepping forward to stand with her by the scene of Jaime's sacrifice. "Perhaps you more than anyone." He said wistfully.

"Yes, she does." Jaime's word rippled silently through the air like tiny breezes, dying before they reached living ears. He nodded in agreement of his brother's words, his eyes lovingly locked upon Brienne.

Brienne stared at Tyrion, uncertain of her reponse. The last remaining Lannister had not said a word to her regarding his brother's death, nor the reasons which caused it. She was certain that Jaime's motivation lay more in ending Cersei's hateful reign than in reconciliation or rescue. Brienne's heart took strength in believing that it truly had been her Jaime loved. During the all too brief moon they shared together he had uttered too many words of profession, drawn her to him in too many gestures of endearment, lost himself along with her to too many glorious night of passion, dreamed too many bright hopes of their future for her to ever imagine otherwise. Although Brienne would never doubt that Jaime's actions had ensured Cersei's end, she had no way of knowing how much Lord Tyrion had surmised. The greatest act of love now left to her was to see that the world remembered Jaime as the honorable hero he was. She would not label the Kingslayer as Queenslayer as well, and most definitely not to his own brother.

"He loved you, My Lady." Tyrion asserted, the need for formality gone. He stared at Brienne so earnestly, she almost wondered if he were reading her thoughts.

Jaime's spirit drew even closer to Brienne, as if he could wrap his arms around her and take away all the pain he had caused. "More than anything, more than anyone, I loved you, My Dearest." Jaime whispered into her ear. "I do love you. I will always love you." He swore.

Tyrion saw the wariness upon Brienne's face, an expression he hoped was not evidence of doubt. "Surely, you did not think he returned to deliver Cersei to some safe harbor, or that it was her whom he desired." Tyrion stated. The irony of the notion nearly made him laugh. "You knew him better than anyone. Better than he knew himself." Tyrion smiled with nostalgia. "He would never have left you, if he had not felt it absolutely necessary." His gaze implored Brienne to believe him.

Jaime leaned his forehand against Brienne's jaw. A tingle ran through her veins, though she did not know why. 'I wanted that evil bitch dead.' Jaime seethed. 'So she could never hurt you.' He choked.

Brienne bit her lip. She knew in the deepest part of her soul that Jaime's departure had not been compelled by any desire to build a new life with Cersei. Brienne recalled whimsically how happy Jaime had been with her in the North, how desperately he had wanted their future. Still, the shadow of the pain and confusion Brienne felt as she watched him ride through the gates of Winterfell crept into her awareness. She had fought to bury its specter so deep even she would not remember, yet it seemed always to return to mock her whenever she convinced herself of Jaime's love.

"But, he did return." Brienne reminded, her voice numb, her eyes heavy with grief. Jaime's heart sunk with the angony in her tone.

His eyes locked mournfully upon the crimson blood stain, Tyrion shook his head. Without turning, he addressed Brienne. "He returned to keep you safe, My Lady." He told her. "I do not suppose Jaime told you of our visitor at the tavern that day in Wintertown?" Tyrion's question was almost rhetorical. He knew Jaime would not have told Brienne of that dire conversation. A cold wind swirled through the passageway in which they stood as Jaime bristled, recalling the moment Bronn found him and Tyrion in the tavern.

"Visitor?" Brienne repeated puzzled as her eyes begged Tyrion to elaborate.

Tyrion nodded, and sighed heavily. "Yes. Ser Bronn had been sent North…" He breathed dryly "…with orders to kill us, Jaime and me." He reported, turning a knowing glare to Brienne.

"Cersei." Brienne surmised correctly. "She sent him." The idea chilled her to the bone.

Tyrion nodded. "She would not stand for what she saw as Jaime's betrayal." He continued. "Me, she always hated." He shrugged. This time a chuckle escaped his throat at the absurdity of the suspicious relationship he had always shared with his sister. He had felt only relief at Cersei's death, and never considered the need to mourn her. As far as Tyrion was concerned, the sun shone brighter over Westeros when Cersei tasted her last breath. It was Jaime and his sacrifice which tore at Tyrion's heart.

Standing somewhere on the edge of reality, yet so close to those he loved most, Jaime felt the same anger at Cersei's intent. His rage turned to horror once more, remembering the words Bronn had spoken in a veiled threat against Brienne. 'Of course the odds change if the Dragon Queen's Hand turns up dead.' Bronn had hissed. 'Maybe a few of her top generals get picked off one by one.' Bronn's menacing mercenary stare forced Jaime to understand that it was of Brienne the man spoke. She was one of the most important military leaders in the Northern forces. His relief had been that her oath would keep Brienne at Sansa Stark's side, and prevent her from sailing South with the troops. 'My fighting days are done, but I still got a few killin' days left.' Bronn had declared, his eyes cutting through Jaime as if he could see Brienne on the other side. Jaime's blood ran cold that moment, when he realized her life was was in peril. There would soon be a price upon Brienne's head as well, one his sister would surely make good on. Cersei would never have stopped, and Brienne would have been the innocent victim.

The moment Lady Sansa Stark relayed the ambush of Dany's troops, and the sudden change of fortune that signaled an eminent victory for Cersei, Jaime knew he could not stay. His dreams of a life with Brienne were shattered that day, and he understood he would have to give his life to keep Cersei from harming the woman he truly loved. He would die, and take Cersei with him, where she could never harm Brienne. The only thing he could wish was one more night in his Lady Knight's arms. He had taken Brienne with passionate abandon that very evening, their last moments together burning every precious move into his memory to keep forever. He recalled his wish, told only to Bronn of all people, was that he would leave the world in the arms, of the woman he loved. In truth, Jaime had died there in Brienne's arms, and left all of himself with her. Then he had left her alone in the night. The miserable carcass that rode through the gates of Winterfell later that night was a mere hollow shell of the man he had been. Jaime had already become a ghost when he arrived in the Capital bent on reaching his goal. How long could a man live when his heart was a thousand miles away? This moment, that heart broke all over again to remember the pain in which he left Brienne.

Her thoughts swirling in confusion, Brienne braced herself, wishing there was something to steady herself against. "He was sent to kill you, to kill Jai…?" Brienne attempted to ask Tyrion. However she could not force herself to finish, but struggled for the breath which had left her lungs in a explosive gulp. "But she loved …" Brienne's tongue refused to speak the words.

Tyrion allowed himself a hate-filled scoff. "Cersei never loved anyone as she did herself, or her power-hungry schemes." He corrected. "Poor Jaime was nothing but her pawn." Tyrion sneered in disgust. "She always used him for what his sword hand could give her. Once that was gone she had no use for him." He recounted. "There was no way, she would have allowed him to live knowing he loved another. It would have been a mockery she could not abide." Slowly, he turned his pained eyes to Brienne, his brow lined with concern. "There would have been no way she would have allowed you to live." He disclosed.

Jaime pressed his eyes shut against the image of the fate Cersei most assuredly had planned for Brienne. "She would have slaughtered you." He whispered dreadfully.

The color drained from Brienne's face, realization slamming down upon her like the stones that took Jaime's life. "He knew that I was in danger?" She breathed, barely able to piece together a coherent response as her heart both sank and soared. Jaime had not abandoned her. He had chosen her, chosen that she would live. "That is why he left?" Brienne concluded, losing her own battle to control the trembling which threatened her stoic demeanor.

"That is the only thing that would ever have torn me from your arms." Jaime's sorrowful affirmation wafted silently upon the currents of air which floated by Brienne.

"Ser Bronn alluded to as much." Tyrion nodded. "The first words he muttered to us were that he knew Jaime was …" His brain raced to find a more suitable description than the one Bronn had phrased as 'fucking her.' Tyrion took a deep breath and started again. "Ser Bronn was certain Jaime left Kings Landing to be with you in the North." Tyrion gave her a kindhearted smile, imagining how much Jaime had loved the lady he knighted, and how much joy Brienne brought to his brother's life.

"I had never been so happy as when I at last laid eyes upon you in that snowy sparring yard." Jaime smiled to remember how regal and serious Brienne had appeared when he spied her from the battlement atop Winterfell. He had stood with Tyrion's voice babbling in his ear, his eyes unable to be torn from her.

Then Tyrion's expression turned dire. "Bronn threatened the lives of the Dragon Queen's top generals, of which you were one, My Lady." His gaze returned reluctantly to the blood-stained stones. "If it had not been Bronn, Cersei would have sent someone else. She would not have stopped until you were dead." He raised his gaze to Brienne. "Jaime knew that, and he was the only one who could get close enough to her to stop her." He told Brienne.

Jaime's face fell. "That was when I knew I could not stay." Jaime whispered, his face drained of even ghostly color.

"Certainly, he knew you could not leave Winterfell." Tyrion continued. "Jaime knew that your honor bound you to Lady Sansa's side, and that you could not follow him, to your death." He nodded, certain in his deduction.

Brienne reeled from Tyrion's confession. Now she understood the pain she had seen in Jaime's eyes as they stood in Winterfell's frozen courtyard and she had begged him not to go. Finally, she knew why he could not bring his gaze to hers, why even as he prepared to leave her he grasped her wrist like a lifeline. At last, somewhere in the hollow emptiness he had left in her heart, Jaime's departure began to make sense. The notion to which she held so fiercely, afraid to consider any other justification, had been correct all along. Jaime had not tired of her. He had not preferred another. He had not left her because he did not love her. He had sacrificed his life because he did.

"It was only the knowledge that you were in danger that drove my brother from your side." Tyrion confirmed. "It was a risk he could not take. I should have known that." His shoulders slumped, and he shook his head in shame. His voice was nearly a whisper.

With all of his heart Jaime wished to take Brienne's hand. He wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees before her and confess all he could not tell her on their last night together in the North. "It was the worst thing I ever did." Said the man who had killed his own king.

Fighting the tears that clawed their way up her throat and threatened to overcome her, Brienne brought her attention back to Tyrion. "How could you have suspected what Jaime planned?" She asked. "He told no one." The line between Brienne's brows deepened as she contemplate Tyrion's regret. Standing guard at her side, Jaime wished he could kiss away her bewilderment.

Tyrion shook his head vehemently, trying to rid himself of the guilt that seemed determined to eat him alive. "I saw him, before he reached The Capital." Tyrion admitted. "It was in Daenarys Targaryen's camp. Jaime had been captured trying to sneak through the lines." He described, barely able to look at Brienne.

"He lied. I should have realized." Tyrion continued his self loathing rant. "I had not my wits about me, the upcoming battle weighed too heavy upon my thoughts." He paced before Brienne, lost in his own regret. "I should not have let him go." Tyrion chastised himself.

Jaime stared dismally at Tyrion. "You did for me what I wished." Jaime assured the ears that could not hear him. "I needed to be free. For Brienne, I needed to reach Kings Landing." He choked through the tears invading his throat.

"My Lord?" Brienne interrupted. "I do not understand." She implored, trying unsuccessfully to make some sense of Tyrion's monologue.

Tyrion stopped in his tracks, and lifted his glazed eyes to Brienne. His entire stance begged her to forgive him. "In hindsight, it is all so clear to me.." His voice faltered. "Now, that I can do nothing to change any of it." Tyrion said through gritted teeth. "When I saw him, I knew he was not the same Jaime Lannister I left at Winterfell." Tyrion lamented. "He was a shell of himself, half crazed, broken." Tyrion voice faltered. "The brother I found in Daenarys's chains was a man already dead." He looked sympathetically at Brienne. "He had left his heart, his soul, his future, all of himself in the North, with you." He said softly.

For a moment, Jaime's gaze left his beloved Brienne to regard his brother. "I meant that you would not discover my true purpose." He said to Tyrion as if he might hear the sentiments he conveyed. "You could have been executed, had I been captured again, and The Dragon Queen labeled me a traitor." Jaime shook his head fervently at the fate he would not allow Tyrion to suffer.

"Even his words made no sense." Tyrion winced to think he had not realized the depth of Jaime's pain, and the truth of his deception. "He acted as if he meant to return to Cersei." He chuckled bitterly. "He must have known I would not have freed him had I suspected the truth, that his motive was to see her to the Hells, even if it meant his life." Tyrion hung his head with regret. "He was right. I would have let him rot in those chains rather than risk such a dangerous mission." He admitted.

"Jaime tried to act like the braggart he was before he loved you, Lord Commander." Tyrion revealed remorsefully. "I cannot believe I was taken in by such a ridiculous attempt." Tyrion berated himself. "He said something about not caring for innocents." He rolled is eyes to The Heavens. "The man who killed his own king rather than see thousands die in Kings Landing, the man who saved you from rape and torture for which he gave his sword hand." He gestured toward Brienne. She lowered her own chin, her heart painfully grieved at the memory. "Jaime turned his back on everything he knew, and rode North to join the battle for the living." Tyrion's anger burned at his own misjudgment. "How could I have ever imagined he was truthful in his denial." He wondered. "I even reminded him that I knew there was one innocent for which he still cared." At last, Tyrion was rendered speechless by the exchange that had passed between Jaime and himself.

Brienne's expression fell sadly, imaging she understood the innocent to whom Tyrion referred. "Jaime told me about Cersei's babe." She nearly whispered. She had not wanted to think of the unborn child that Jaime himself had only barely mentioned.

Tyrion tilted his head at Brienne's innocence and her misguided belief. "There was no babe." He affirmed. "The maesters examined Cersei's body thoroughly, there was never a babe." Tyrion again grew angry at the falsehoods Cersei had always used to gain control over Jaime. "It was a lie, the kind she wove to manipulate him." He seethed. "Jaime must have known when he saw her." Tyrion assumed. "He had been gone from her side for moons, yet her belly was as flat as it had been for years." Tyrion declared. "No life burgeoned within her." He nearly spat the words into the dirt.

Tyrion's approving and understanding gaze washed over Brienne. "The innocent of whom I spoke, was you." He said assuredly.

"Yet, still he continued on his path." Brienne voice was quiet, emotionless, her heart grasping to find some meaning in Jaime's actions. She recalled the weeks she had spent at Winterfell following his departure, begging the Gods that he would return. The pain had nearly broken her. If he had been so eager to protect her, why had he died with Cersei instead of returning to The North.

Tyrion heard the unspoken hurt in Brienne's voice. "Yes" he nodded. "But he would have returned to you, My Lady if he could have. Of that I am certain." He swore. "It was not only the bricks that his took life." Tyrion lamented. "I ordered a boat to be left for him on the shore below the Keep. I told him it would be there." He recalled tragically. "I hoped he would kill Cersei and flee. I practically begged him to save himself, but by then he could not." Tyrion's face contorted in angony. "I know now that he had been ambushed by Euron Greyjoy as he entered beneath the castle. They fought. The Iron Fleet's commander struck a mortal blow through Jaime's ribs." Tyrion detailed, his voice shuddering. "My brother knew he would not make it back to Winterfell, to you, My Lady. He knew he was dying." Tyrion's eyes filled with the tears he could share only with the woman Jaime had loved enough to give his life to keep safe.

Brienne stared at the round discolored patch that spread out at her feet. She was now certain that it had been Jaime's blood which had left it's mark upon the stones. Perhaps it had been left there as evidence of his sacrifice, so that she would know his life had been given for her. Quickly, Brienne shook off the folly of her thoughts. There was nothing poetic nor symbolic about it. Jaime was dead and gone. A stain upon the ground was all that was left of him. Her heart twisted bitterly at the notion.

As he watched Brienne helplessly, Jaime thought of his last moments of
life dragging Cersei to where he knew the structure was the weakest. He had seen the cracked floor of the Map Room when he entered. He knew it would not last the barrage. Beneath it's painted floor was where he had forced his feet to carry him, Cersei in tow. That was where he stopped. She had said something to him, some mention of the fiction she called a child. Even at the end the monster that had been his sister, the whore that had been his lover, with her last breath spewed the manipulation which had always kept him chained to her side like a dog waiting to be thrown a scrap. Jaime had spent his entire life giving Cersei what she wanted. It was not so the last time he had rushed back to her.

Determination had never burned so fiercely in his chest, as when he took Cersei to the depths of the Red Keep and held her there while the walls crumbled atop them. Now, as Brienne stood tall and proud before him, armored in her Guard's gold, Jaime knew he had done the right thing, the most honarable, selfless act of his life. The only course there was to be taken. He had only felt truly free, truly alive, truly loved in Brienne's glorious light. His last thought of her, he had whispered in Cersei's ear, so that The Queen would always know, it was Brienne of Tarth who ruled his heart. The thing that died in his arms, in such a garish contrast to his lovely sweet maid, had once turned him into a puppet, devoid of his own will or dignity. At the end, his life stood for something better and true, even if he was the only one who knew.

Tyrion's voice drew Brienne gratefully from her thoughts. "He never even made for that boat." He informed her. "He must have used the last of his energies to drag Cersei here." He speculated. "His grasp around her, the way they had fallen. Jaime did not hold Cersei to comfort her." Tyrion breathed almost proudly. "He was keeping her in place, preventing her from fleeing. Jaime was determined to take Cersei to the Hells himself." A sly smile crossed his face, that Jaime had achieved his goal.

Brienne's brought her troubled eyes to Tryion. "To the Hells?" She whispered, her unspoken words begging for the peace of certainty that is was truly she Jaime had loved.

Tyrion met her gaze earnestnessly. He found, within those deep blue depths into which he had witnessed Jaime fall, a sadness that broke his heart. "Of two things I am certain, My Lady." He began, assuredly. "My sister does not rest in the bliss of the Heavens." He proclaimed. "And it is you for whom my brother waits there." Tyrion raised his chin confidently, and looked upon the woman Jaime had loved, his heart soft and kind. In the shadows the unseen subject of Tyrion's decree looked on, his heart bursting with affection. Aside from Brienne, not even Cersei had known him as well.

Silently Tyrion reached and took Brienne's hand. "Jaime may have died with his arms around Cersei, but it was your name upon his lips, My Lady. On that I would stake my life." Tyrion asserted. "Cersei may have been the Queen on the throne, but it was you, Ser Brienne, who was the Queen of Jaime's heart." He smiled confidently up at Brienne. Her eyes were distant as she gratefully acknowledged his sentiment, nodding with a heartfelt sigh.

After a moment, for some reason, Tyrion began to feel like an intruder, out of place. As if Jaime were lingering there, to be alone with his true Queen. "I shall leave you, now." He whispered and did not wait for a reply.

Reverently Tyrion turned to leave, but was stopped after only a few paces by Brienne's soft voice. "My Lord." She called quietly, her attention diverted from thoughts of Jaime for but a few beats of her heart. "Thank you." She uttered hoarsely. Tyrion held her in his compassionate stare, and than lowered his chin and continued on, leaving Brienne to contemplate all he had divulged.

Brienne drew in a long beleaguered breath. She took a step closer to the dried blood which she had no doubt had seeped from Jaime's wound. The thought of his suffering overwhelmed her until she could no longer stand. Trembling, she crumpled to her knees beside the place where he had died. Unable to hold back her sobs any longer, Brienne wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold in the absence of Jaime's embrace. Unaccustomed to tears, she soon gasped for the air her lungs refused to seek. Her eyes rose the Heavens, begging for his soul.

"Please, Father." She beseeched the deity. "Watch over him, and welcome him into your loving care." Brienne begged. Her shaking fingers reached for the stained stone. She simply wanted to feel him again. Her hand hovered over the pigment which was all that was left of Jaime. Then quickly Brienne pulled back her fingers, before she could feel the hard dryness of the dirt that would make it all too clear that he was gone. In the shadow of the arches that had seen Jaime fall, Brienne surrendered her control to her grief. She buried her face in her hands and cried out his name.

Unable to bear her pain, the shadow that was once Jaime Lannister sunk to the floor beside Brienne. He felt the pain of his separation from her so keenly his own tears wet the still air which were now his cheeks. Silently, he begged The Gods to give her peace. Helpless, he could only watch Brienne weep.