Brienne had lain sleepless for nights contemplating Lord Tyrion's revelations to her when they spoke in that terrible passageway where Jaime had died. Over and over her mind recalled each word he had spoken. She knew Lord Tyrion would never lie to her, and most certainly not about the feelings Jaime held in his deepest heart. All of Jaime's confessions given from his brother's tongue, echoed in the dark of night as Brienne tossed and turned in her bed, sleep a distant wish. This night, she had no wish to seek even rest. Brienne stood, forlornly staring into the fire of the hearth in the Lord Commander's quarters. Oathkeeper sitting watchfully upon the mantle.
She imagined the events as Tyrion had described them, pieced every detail together and filled in the rest with the moments she herself had lived. The time Jaime had spent so happily with her, and all the moments which had passed between them before that, told their story. It was not a tale of love taken lightly, but it was one with a tragically sad end. Now, in Kings Landing, each night, she found herself again holding Jaime's face between her trembling hands in the freezing courtyard at Winterfell, pleading with him not to go. She had felt it then so keenly in the depths of her own heart, that perhaps his actions were not within his control. Everything about him then made it clear to her that he did not wish go.
Brienne's plea to him on that bitter night had not been a greedy appeal for a love which burned in her heart alone. She was not a desperate girl, hopelessly entreating for a man's affections. Jaime's attention and his devotion had been given to her freely and wholly, Lord Tyrion's recounting had confirmed as much. She knew it to be true in the deepest parts of herself. Those precious hidden places that were tied to Jaime still. Brienne had begged him not to die, trying to make him believe by the sheer force of her will that he was a good man. It was only after he had foresaken her, after all hope of his return had quit her, after she had received word of his death, that Brienne allowed the doubt to make her question his motives and his love. She now grew sick with guilt that even for a moment disbelief and heartbreak should have made her question what they shared.
Jaime stood at Brienne's side, through those nights, watching her struggle. He knew his leaving had left her reeling and confused. Part of him had meant that she should hate him forever, so that she would not follow him to her death. It filled him with pride and a type of joy to know that beyond the hurt he had caused her, Brienne loved him still. It was a testament to the strength of the bond which would unite their souls, always. Before the thought fully formed in Jaime's mind, an expression of awed fascination brightened Brienne's face. He stood only a hair's breadth from her as she took Oathkeeper in hand and crossed the floor.
Tears obscured Brienne's vision as she stopped at the casement and softly pushed the pane aside. Hurriedly she brushed the droplets from her lashes, eager for the view which greeted her eyes. Before her lay the silent yard and gardens of the Red Keep which stretched to the calm darkness of Blackwater Bay beyond. It was not for the ground that her eyes searched. Brienne's gaze rose instead toward the deep purple ink of the night sky. The vast expanse of the universe was pierced as far as she could view by the dancing light of billions of stars. So far they were from where she stood, yet somehow they seemed so close. Everything the Septons had ever taught made it seem that those far away worlds were the guardians of The Heavens themselves. Brienne's very soul was certain there was truth in their teachings. It was all the explanation she had of where Jaime could be, for surely a spirit such as his would not simply vanish from existence. For a moment, Brienne surrendered to superstition and hope, for she had no doubt that if she concentrated very hard he would most certainly know she watched from her tiny window. Perhaps he would hear her.
At last, clarity struck Brienne like a lightening bolt from the sky. She saw once more the pain in Jaime's eyes. Felt his leathered palm glide softly up her arm, and then clasp to her as if he did not want to let her go. Then his thumb rubbed the back of her hand tenderly in the only act of comfort he dared give. He was not the same man who had come to her, fought with her, declared himself to her, and shared undeniable love and passion with her. He was another Jaime, one desperate to flee, one already set upon a path he could not reverse. His attempts to make himself a monster, recounting every horrible thing he had ever done in Cersei's name, had not changed her certainty that Jaime Lannister was a good and honorable man. Now, she could see it so clearly, his last honorable act was to sacrifice himself to ensure her protection, to die for her.
With her eyes peering desperately into the stars, as if she could peel each layer of the universe back to reveal Jaime's face, Brienne tasted the sanguine tears that trailed over her lips. For a moment her eyes fell to Oathkeeper, held tightly in her grasp. She caressed the proud stately lion's head of its hilt. Her fingers traced the precious blood red ruby as if it were Jaime's own heart. She heard again the words he had sworn to her. 'It's yours.' He had vowed. 'It will always be yours.' Brienne closed her eyes, seeing again his oath to her so clear in his resolute expression, and the tender depth of his eyes as he stared, begging her to understand. She had fully comprehended his meaning then as she did now.
Drawing in a deep gasp of air, as if she had not breathed since the moment he left her, Brienne laid her head back on the window frame and clasped Oathkeeper to her heart. She smiled gleefully at the stars. "You did love me." She declared, at last able to allow herself to feel the strength of Jaime's love once more, the force that had compelled him to sacrifice himself so that she would always be safe. "You did!" Brienne breathed in awe, able to set her own heart free.
At her side, Jaime wove his arm around her waist and nestled his face close her neck. Brienne did not know that the warm shiver which trickled through her spine was not merely the night air gliding past her open window. Jaime laid his lips close to her ear and reveled in her joy. "I love you more than any man ever loved a woman." He replied to her. His words fell silent within the parchment thin space between them while yet another gentle tingle ran through Brienne's body.
Brienne's smile grew wide at her epiphany, her eyes earnest and adoring as her gaze swam among the stars. "I love you." She promised him. "I will always love you." She whispered, unable to find words at the power of her sentiment. Beside her Jaime closed his eyes, his expression forlorn, his heart pounding with a sad kind of happiness.
Brienne stood at the window, much of the night vanishing without notice. She felt only the love she and Jaime had shared. He stayed by her side, unmoving as the hours passed. When fatigue finally overcame her, Brienne carried Oathkeeper to her bed. She did not hang the glorious weapon upon the post as she did at the end of each day. This night she lay with the Valyrian steal treasure Jaime had gifted her, the symbol of his very heart, clutched close to her own. She soon fell into the most peaceful slumber she had known in his absence, somehow feeling his presence surround her. Unseen, Jaime settled against the empty pillow beside Brienne, and cherished the nearness of her, guarding her through the night.
—-
Early the next morning Brienne awoke refreshed, and more determined than she had felt in many weeks. She lay wrapped in her soft blankets, Oathkeeper by her side, basking in the morning sun as it streamed through the window she had left open the night before. There was no way Brienne could have known that Jaime reclined only inches away, his caring gaze washing over her in the warm glow of day.
He rose as she did, and stood in the shadows while she dressed. He watched every sensuous move of her body as she slipped on her tunic, and buckled the new fine golden Kings Guard armor over the lovely angles of her body. The pause gave Jaime time to think. He had not yet pondered the real distance between himself and Brienne, so joyful at simply being near her. However, now, even as he held her, caressed her, he remained in another realm. She knew not that he was with her. Although she sensed him, there was nothing to hint at his presence. Was he a ghost? Jaime chuckled at the notion. Yet, he could not deny what the Gods had shown him. He was to be Brienne's protector, unseen, silent, in the shadows. She was not meant to be aware of him. It still seemed rather cruel after all they had endured, that they should be kept from each other this way. Jaime thought of what he had already unconsciously done, the shivering his kiss brought to her skin, his words unheard which yet seemed to affect her. He wondered if perhaps he could try to communicate with her, and if he had any right to.
Jaime's thoughts were broken when Brienne plucked Oathkeeper from the tangled bedsheets and forced the magnificent blade into the elaborate scabbard belted at her waist. She was tall and proud with the sunbeams glinting off the metal plates which shielded her form. Knighting her had been almost the finest thing Jaime had ever done, he realized. Loving her so fiercely that he gave his life for hers had been his greatest achievement. Brienne's eyes were distant, as if she herself were deep in thought. With a furrowed brow, she bit her lip as she had seen Jaime himself do many times, and headed for the door of her chambers. Jaime followed close behind her.
Brienne barely noticed the faces she passed as her thoughts raced within her head. The austere expression she wore gave no hint at the joyous celebration her heart enjoyed. It was clear to her now, that it was she whom Jaime had loved beyond all measures of human affection. Brienne knew what Lord Tyrion had told her was true. She had seen the adoration which shone in Jaime's eyes each time he looked at her, just as she had witnessed the unbearable pain that clouded his face the night he left her. The only purpose in his actions had been to keep her safe. It was the only thing that shadowed Brienne's revelation in sadness. Jaime was gone, and he would never return to her. He had died comforted by their love, with her in his heart. Perhaps, Brienne imagined warmly, with her name upon his lips.
They treaded the familiar corridors of the White Sword Tower, home to the Guard and its Lord Commander, one lost in thought the other lost in her. The pride Jaime felt in her was boundless. Brienne descended the winding stone stairs that led to the Round Room, where she carried out the duties of her position when she was not inspecting or training the Guard. Jaime accompanied Brienne, a mere whisp of a breeze in her shadow, focused upon her every move.
With barely a breath Brienne crossed the room. She sat stiffly at the weirwood table. She now knew what she needed to do, how she would honor Jaime and his sacrifice. With a long slow breath, she pulled the White Book toward her. Somehow, it had survived the destruction of The Targaryen dragon fire. It seemed meant to outlive the realm itself. For a long moment, Brienne simply stared at the ancient leather of its cover. Jaime stood at her side, his heart beating in time with hers though the rising and falling if his chest were undetectable to Brienne. A sense of dread filled him as she studied the White Book, he knew there was so little of him inside it.
"No, My Love." He begged, ashamed. "Do not search for me there, you will not find me." He whispered gravely. The last he had seen of his description within, it presented nothing of the man he had become because of Brienne. Jaime shoulders slumped at the thought that she would view that shameful record of his life.
Unable to hear his plea, with sure and certain fingers, Brienne opened the volume and turned carefully to the woefully small entry which began Jaime's story. Her heart broke at the thought of his life being strained down to few insulting lines. When her duty was complete, the world would remember him a hero. The words formed slowly in her awareness as she stared at the page, they needed to be perfect. Her eyes pondered the ceiling, or perhaps she was attempting to peer through the stones and mortar to the heavens themselves, to him.
Lord Tyrion had entrusted her with Jaime's secret. The man she loved, who had loved her enough to forsake everything to join her in the North and then to leave her to ensure her protection, had given his life so that she would live. When he might have escaped Kings Landing with The Queen secreted to somewhere no one would ever find them, Jaime had chosen to end Cersei's life, so that Brienne would always be safe. If such knowledge were revealed, Jaime would be reviled as even more a traitor and murdered than he had suffered while he lived. For so long he had existed in disgrace. He had killed his own king. Brienne would make sure that in death the world would remember him not for that, nor for killing The Queen who sat upon the Iron Throne, his own sister. History would applaud him as a paragon of bravery and honor. She swallowed hard at the task before her. It was her obligation, and hers alone. Brienne would tell his story., the way it had truly been.
As she began to write, the story of Jaime Lannister unfolded itself on the parchment like a cascading watefall. The words flowed from her quill as if she were pouring all the tears she had wept for the man over the page. All of it she remembered so vividly. Every moment of her life spent with Jaime, she wove in script. Brienne told their saga before they were lovers, before they are even friends, and as their bond grew so strong that it connected them though they were a thousand miles apart. It joined their hearts still, somehow, across the veil which separated them.
Took Riverrun from the Tulley's without loss of life.
Jaime felt intensely every word that Brienne penned, savagely did her tears burn into his soul. He watched, helpless to calm the quivering of her lip that signaled her battle against the sobs which welled in her throat. Her eyes filled with heavy drop that she refused to shed. Brienne's breath caught in her lungs as even her body fought her efforts to remain impassive toward the emotions clawing at her chest. Jaime read the recounting of his own deeds, his heart shattering into a million pieces.
Pledged himself to the forces of men and rode north to join them at Winterfell.
"Gods." Jaime whispered. "You make me sound like a hero." He lamented with regret. "A hero would not have forsaken you." He berated himself, longing to wrap Brienne in his arms.
Faced the army of the dead and defended the castle against impossible odds until the defeat of the Night King.
Valiantly Brienne struck the final words of Jaime's story into the book. They were the ones which affected her most profoundly. Her own quill had painted him as he truly was, honorable, bold, formidable, alive. This part would tell of his end. Brienne knew now that Jaime had not returned to Cersei to live happily as the storybooks would deem, but to drag her to the depths of the Red Keep and assure that she would never return. It had been an objective he had seen to with his own life. Brienne would not give up his secret in death. She would turn the phrase so that the world would remember him a champion, a martyr, and their love would remain theirs, forever. Lord Tyrion had said that Jaime died for her, that she was the sovereign of his heart. The White Book would admit as much, and only she would ever know. Brienne glanced once more to The Heavens, her stifled tears a sign to Jaime of their shared deception. She was certain he would understand .
Died protecting his queen.
Jaime could not longer hold his pain at bay. Agonized by the thought that anyone should think he gave his life for Cersei, he cried to Brienne. "You are my Queen!" He declared, though she did not hear.
Brienne examined the final line as if it were the work of some fine craftsman. The words were simple, uncomplicated, horrible. They were also vague, and curt, and hid the deeper meaning of her thoughts. They would serve their purpose well. Nowhere upon the page did she place her own name, yet she was everywhere. Nearly all of Jaime's story had been hers as well. Now, those deeds were moments in time they would always share, even if no one knew. Satisfied, Brienne replaced the quill in the ink well, and touched Jaime's deeds lovingly. This would be her gift to him, a life remembered with reverence, and a love kept true as it had always been, hidden and safe.
Brienne swallowed the grief, burying it in the darkest depths of her heart. Her memories of Jaime would not be tainted by sadness. With a newfound resolve she closed the pages of The White Book. Brienne would go on. She would reach her utmost goals of honor and service. She would achieve all which the title Jaime gave her would demand, all that it promised. Her life would be a testament to him. She would live and he would endure through her. With a deep sigh, Brienne stood and retrieved Oathkeeper from atop the table. Her head held high, and her usual quiet strength surrounding her, she walked confidently through the doorway and disappeared into the sunlight.
Jaime did not follow. He simply stood stricken, awed by Brienne's courage and the love she had just shown him. Any other woman in the world would have degraded his memory with such venom spewed upon the pages of the White Book that he would have been forever cast as a vile and immoral wretch. Not his sweet lovely maiden. Her honor would not allow such revenge. Her love for him could not abide such defamation. He did not deserve her defense.
Sadly, Jaime lumbered from the Round Room opposite where Brienne had left, too despondent to bear a moment in her bright presence. The darkness of the passageway which led deeper into the White Sword tower and the castle wall beyond wholly complimented his dire mood. Over and over he envisioned every stroke of Brienne's quill, composing a noble requiem for his life. One he felt wasted upon the likes of him. His mind saw the tears she shed, and the resolve which had threatened to crack with each word. Even as his heart gloried in their love, his soul burned with anger. Fury tore at the very inside of him. Jaime's anger seethed at Cersei for whose demise he had ripped himself from his beloved Lady Knight. Jaime's furor seared red hot at Queen Daenarys and her dragon, and at Euron Greyjoy, who in the quest for their own glory had taken him from the world and destroyed his hopes of returning to Brienne. His rage flamed at even the Gods themselves, who in their omnipotence and unceasing power had seen fit not to return the life for which he was meant, but worse, to make his duty the choice of who was to take Brienne's own heart from him. Jaime's chest heaved with passionate indignation, his fists flexed and pumped searching for a release to their powerless intensity. It was more than he could endure.
His vision blinded with rage. Jaime dug his heals into the stone and raised his eyes to The Heavens. "Take me from this place." He howled. "It is more than I can bear." Had he been among the living, his mournful howl would have brought the whole of the Guard and all the King's troops to avenge whatever peril had befallen The Lion of Lannister.
As it were his horrendous shouts echoed unheard along the dim empty corridor. Not to be deterred, Jaime leaned back his head and with all the power he could summon, squeezed his eyes tight shut until he saw red behind them. He wailed an anguished cry to the silent Heavens until the semblance of a pulse throbbed in his ears and his lungs ached for the air a living man would require. Terrified by the ghostly cries of a dead man, each torch along the passageway, as far as the eye could see, was at once extinguished by the power of Jaime's will.
—
The day which remained gave Jaime no relief from his anger and sorrow. He spent the endless lonely hours hidden amidst the living, keeping watch over his Brienne. He was witness to her genius and skill with the blade as she saw her Guard through their drills in the training yard. He walked quietly in her footsteps as she inspected the pathways along which The King's itinerary would see him. Jaime stood stalwart at Brienne's side as she protected the welfare of The Three-Eyed Raven, all the while perceiving the eerie feeling that Brandon Stark sensed his presence in the throne room.
When the darkness descended over Kings Landing Jaime watched Brienne's strength and bravery begin to fade. After completing his story in The White Book, she had undertaken her duties with, what appeared to Jaime, a newfound sense of courage and determination. It was clear she wished to find the brightness which had been shaded from her eye since his death. She was trying to move on, or at least to begin to do so. However, as the distraction of her responsibilities waned with the light of the setting sun, so too did her stoic shell.
Jaime saw the weariness taking hold of Brienne with each passing moment, and witnessed her sweet lovely face fall with fatigue and perhaps dread. He watched her sit for hours, staring into the roaring fire she had built in the hearth of her bedchamber, wearing nothing but her thick black dressing gown and clutching Oathkeeper is if it were Jaime's own hand. Although, he ached for the torment Brienne suffered, Jaime smiled thinking of the warm fires they had shared in North, beside which they nestled together professing their love softly with declarations and demonstrations. He could almost feel Brienne's arms around him, as he studied her, alert for the distress that was fast overwhelming her.
Brienne had surrendered to her exhaustion as the ending of one day met the beginning of the next. She stood slowly, as if it pained her even to move. The fabric of her robe appeared much heavier than it truly was as she stiffly removed it and laid it at the foot of the bed. This night she had chosen to slumber with nothing to cover her body but the sheets. Jaime's
instincts as well as his body began to react to the splendor of Brienne's perfect figure. He allowed the sensation to take hold. This was the way they had slept together in the North, with nothing to seperate them, no impediments to their lustful explorations. He would have given both of his hands to have now been waiting for her in that bed.
With a sigh far too haunted for her years, Brienne gazed sadly at Oathkeeper. She ran her hand tenderly along the ornate scabbard that housed her magnificent Valyrian steel weapon, the one Jaime had given her when it was all he dared pledge. Even the sheeth had been laden with hearts. She gently hung the sword on the frame of her bed, at the ready, and slid softly beneath the thin linens that glided over her body. She left bare, the space where Jaime would have slept. With a single tear trickling along the side of her nose, she stared at the emptiness beside her, frozen in her longing grief. Unable to fight sleep any longer, Brienne's eyes closed and the gentle sighs of her slumber whispered to Jaime the precious song of her dreams.
Unable to abide the distance between them any longer, the murmur of a shadow that was now Jaime Lannister moved beside Brienne's bed. Haltingly, deliberately, as if he might disturb her, Jaime sank to the mattress where he sat at her side for more hours of the night than he noticed. His thoughts took their liberties and he reveled in the stillness of night, serenaded by Brienne's breathing. He could almost imagine that they were once more at Winterfell in their cozy nest, Brienne having lost her battle to stay awake for him while he passed a visit with Tyrion and a jug of wine. How comforted he had been at the knowledge that she awaited him upon his return to their chamber. Ever so softly, with a gentle kiss, he would arouse her unconscious senses until she opened her lovely eyes to him, and graced him with the smile that melted his heart and hardened his cock. Needfully Brienne would reach and pull Jaime to her, to where they would enjoy their nightly pleasures.
This night, here, so far from their northern sanctuary and both so very lost without each other, Jaime forgot himself. Abandoning all self-control, Jaime reached for Brienne. His need to feel her overcame composure. With a delicate and loving touch of his restored right hand, Jaime caressed Brienne's soft fair cheek.
Brienne was lost in her dream. Her entire being yearned for Jaime, every part of her body and soul needed him. She heard herself calling for him as her heart had done when they parted at Harrenhal, and when he sent her from Kings Landing, as it had wanted to do when he rode away from her at Winterfell though she could not find voice. From somewhere Jaime's fingers slid along with contours of her jaw, resting there the same as the moment they first tasted the hungry sensual power of their love for each other. Brienne felt him. He was there. He was with her.
Caught somewhere between shock and ecstasy, lost in the midst of heartbreak and euphoria, Brienne shot straight up from her slumber. Jaime's hand dropped to the quilt, invisible. His face so close to hers that he could feel her sweet breath tickle his beard. Brienne's trembling fingers hovered over the place on her cheek where his touch had been. Her skin still tingled with the familiar exhilaration of his nearness.
Frantically, Brienne's eyes searched the darkness expecting to see Jaime in the shadows. Breathless, she struggled to put meaning to what had just occurred, still holding the sensation of his skin to hers. Surely it had not been a dream. For a brief moment, she feared madness has taken her mind. Her practical mind had never allowed her to hold possible anything but the absolute, the sensible, the proven. Yet, she knew Jaime too well, knew the charge of his touch. There was but one explanation. Still unable to focus her visions, Brienne tried to catch site of him.
"You're here?" She stammered. "Aren't you?" Brienne's awed smile cut the darkness like a ray of sunshine.
Jaime stared at her in wonder at what he had just done. Surely, it was a sin. He feared the God's might take him from Brienne's side for the sheer audacity of his attempt. Still, he stayed, unmoved from her side. Risking his blessing yet again but unable to fight the urge which drew him closer to her, Jaime leaned to meet Brienne's fascination. Her lips were still parted in astonishment. Gently, carefully Jaime placed a soft sweet kiss upon her exquisite mouth. The force of it shuddered within her soul. She closed her eyes, hoping to disappear into whatever world Jaime had returned from. He lingered in the glory of their love, fearful it would all disappear, until Brienne's hopeful trembling brought him back to awareness.
Reluctantly, Jaime parted from his maiden fair. Tears stung his eyes as he stood from her. Brienne leaned forward searching for him, confusion mocking her. He stepped back, knowing he had ventured too far into the light.
"Jaime?" Brienne called for him helplessly. The distress and disappointment which echoed in her tone tore him to shreds.
Unwillingly Jaime moved away from Brienne's side. As he did so, his hand grazed against the fine leather of the scabbard which hung from her bedpost. Mournfully she called for him once more. In the silence which surrounded her, Oathkeeper quivered back and forth in the dying light from the hearth. It was the only answer Jaime could give her.
