Brienne crossed the busy courtyard, preoccupied with where her next conversation might lead. In her thoughts she had practiced a hundred scenarios, each sounding more insane than the last. She knew there was no use to delay this meeting any longer. Her trembling fingers clutched a long leather-clad parcel. It had been a week since Eyan's return. Seven short busy days since they had been betrothed. Only a sennight had passed since Jaime had come to her in the night, and taken form one last time. Her heart was still certain of the path she chose for this life. No doubts plagued her mind when she thought of becoming Eyan's wife. Brienne had only ever been as happy as she felt now once in her life, during the time she and Jaime had spent as lovers. With his approval, and his oath to her still echoing sweetly in her mind, Brienne was certain she and Eyan would know a lifetime of blessed joy. There was only one thing which still weighed upon her thoughts.
Since it appeared on the very night Jaime had taken form and pledged his eternal love to her Brienne kept his great sword, Widow's Wail, tucked in secrecy. It was a treasure she wished to share with no one, but was soon ashamed of her selfishness. She had not whispered a word of its return to anyone, not even Eyan. Brienne knew not how she would explain such an extraordinary occurrence. Her first thought was to guard it jealously, the only connection she still had to Jaime. Each time she found herself alone, Brienne took the glorious weapon from its hiding place, and felt Jaime's own power surge through its steel. What surprised her was that feeling did not subside once Widows Wail was again wrapped and concealed. At last Brienne realized all Jaime had told her was true, he was always with her. She also knew that his blade was too great a gift to be buried away in a drawer.
Even now, Jaime followed close on her heels, but a slight whips of wind at her back. He had watched in confusion as she gathered up Widows Wail and marched from her chambers with a resolute posture. Understanding soon dawned when Jaime realized the direction that Brienne's path took that morning. Although he knew the propriety of what she surely had planned, he hoped with all of his heart the person whom she sought would not need what she was about to offer.
When finally Brienne reached her destination, she summoned all of her courage and knocked purposefully upon the door. The shadow of a brave smile hovered over her features, in sharp contrast to the racing of her heart. She could feel Jaime standing at her side, bolstering her determination. She knew he would be true to the vow he had sworn to her. Jaime would never leave her again
"Enter." Lord Tyrion's voice called from the other side.
Swallowing hard, Brienne turned the latch of the door, and stepped into the solar of The Hand of The King. "My Lord." She forced respectful formality to her voice, though her first instinct was a timid whisper. "If I might have a moment of your time?" She inquired hopefully.
Tyrion's face brightened at Brienne's arrival. "Ah. Lord Commander. Do come in." He smiled, laying down his quill and springing from his chair, glad for the distraction. "To what do I owe this pleasure? I should think you would be too busy planning your wedding to visit my lonely quarters." He joked.
A nervous chuckle rose from Brienne's throat. "We leave for Evenfall within a fortnight." She explained, unnecessarily. "The King and my father have both blessed our union." She continued to elaborate. "Until then, Ser Eyan and I will see to our duties as usual." Brienne affirmed proudly. Jaime could only stand silently, wishing to sooth her worried brow.
"Of course." Tyrion replied, realizing the bout of nervous energy which caused Ser Brienne to fidget with the item she held carefully in her grasp. "What can I do for you?" He asked kindly.
For a moment, Brienne could not find words. No rational way to begin what she had to impart to him came to mind. She peered around the room cautiously, her eyes falling upon two sturdy chairs by the hearth. "My I sit?" She asked. At least it would stop the shaking in her knees.
"Of course." Tyrion answered, motioning toward the cushioned seats. "Some wine perhaps?" He offered, hoping only to calm her obvious agitation. Though truly it was far too early for such refreshment.
"No. Thank you." She tried to smile, ignoring the inappropriate hour of his suggestion. Brienne then turned and moved quickly to sit, fearing she could no longer stand. With nowhere else to rest the package in her arms, she laid it across her lap, as if guarding it with her life.
Tyrion's expression had changed to worry by the time he joined her. "Please, My Lady." He urged. "What is it that troubles you?" Knowing Brienne was the woman his brother had truly loved, her grave expression pained him. He wished to take her hand and settle her, but he did not. Jaime wished he had.
Brienne took a long deep breath, and did her best to begin. "What I came here to tell you will sound quite preposterous." She apologized before even attempting to explain. Tyrion simply watched her attentively, his silent interest bidding her to continue.
She gulped for a breath as if her lungs were failing. "Ser Jai…" She stopped herself, hating the cold formality of her words. "Jaime's sword…" she stammered.
Tyrion interrupted, predicting her next thoughts. "Has never been found." His eyes grew distant and sad. "It has been lost since the day I found my brother in that rubble." He lamented, refusing any mention of Cersei.
Without a word, Brienne simply unfolded the yards of leather that held Widows Wail securely within, exposing the gleaming majestic sword to Tyrion.
The Hand of The King gaped in shock. Tyrion's eyed the blade with wonder. Gently he stretched out his arm and ran his fingers along the strong Valyrian steel. His gave a long deep sigh, imagining how proud Jaime had been of his grand sword, how fulfilled he was knowing that Brienne would always possess its mate. Tyrion knew exactly what its appearance now meant.
"You have seen him." Tyrion spoke with soft assurance. He did not raise his eyes to Brienne to confirm his statement. He knew he was correct.
Brienne remained quiet, remembering the last moments she had been given with Jaime. Every word he had uttered was burned into her memory. Never, would she forget how he transcended even death to remain by her side. A loving and peaceful smile found her lips. She had no doubt that Jaime was there with them in that moment.
"I am quite certain I sound completely mad." She admitted. "I cannot explain how it would be possible." She shook her head, a part of her still in disbelief of the miracle she knew that occured between herself and the spirit of the dead man to whom she would always be inseparably tied.
"Jaime came to me on the last night of the storm." Brienne said, her eyes glistening with tears, begging Tyrion to understand. "I saw him. I spoke with him." She gushed. "I felt him." Brienne's astonished eyes were wide with honesty hoping, of all people, Jaime's brother would understand.
Tyrion's gaze held both fascination and acceptance as he leaned against the back of his chair, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "I too have felt his presence here in The Red Keep." He replied, giving no sign of questioning Brienne's claim. "I thought at first it was because this is where he…" Tyrion's voice trailed off painfully. "Where he died." He finished with a hollow sensation in his chest. Tyrion then tilted his head in thought. "Now, I believe the reason he is with us goes much deeper than that." He suggested.
"Deeper?" Brienne questioned. She feared the reasons he might give. She was unsure the failing grip she held on on her composure would last if any mention were made of Cersei.
Tyrion nodded. "It is because of you, Lord Comander." He smiled at her fondly. "It is because of Jaime's great love for you that he remains at your side." He declared. "This is not just where he died." Tyrion continued. "This is where he gave his life for you." He choked, his voice quivering involuntarily.
Unable to bear Tyrion gaze, Brienne bit her lip and turned her eyes to stare into the embers of the hearth. She hated to keep the details of what Jaime had said to her from Lord Tyrion. However, she wanted the words Jaime proclaimed to her to stay safe within her own heart. She was thankful Tyrion did not press the issue.
"He did not remain long. I believed it took a great deal of effort for him to appear to me." She divulged. "However, when he vanished from my sight, Widows Wail was left gleaming beside Oathkeeper." Brienne lovingly caressed the weapon's hilt where Jaime's left hand had grasp it with such strength. At her side, he almost felt the tingle of her touch. The fingers of Brienne's other hand formed a fist around the intricate metal work of her own sword the way she always did when she wanted to feel close to Jaime.
"I have come here, because Jaime's sword is Lannister steel." Brienne lowered her eyes to regard Widows Wail once more, fearful Lord Tyrion would see the tears she could not control. "You are his brother." She breathed in hard, trying to open her tightening throat. "It is yours by right." She stated respectfully.
Tyrion rose from his chair, all too aware of the agonizing nature of her gesture. "I cannot accept such a gift." Tyrion said softly. "This sword belongs with its mate, as Jaime belonged with you, My Lady." He gave Brienne and understanding smile. "I know what this sword meant to Jaime." He affirmed. "I know what it means to you." His gaze drifted to Oathkeeper and lingered there, contemplating the eternal love which existed between Jaime and Lady Brienne. "There has been enough sacrifice within these wall." He nodded. "I shall not add another to the list." Tyrion told her, his expression warm and caring. "It is yours." He declared, not knowing the true meaning of his words and how Jaime's own voice echoed within them within Brienne's heart.
Once his duties had at last come to an end for the day, Ser Eyan eagerly returned to the quarters he now unofficially shared with Brienne in The White Sword Tower. Each moment spent apart from her, even in the pursuit of his responsibilities to King Bran, was a singular kind of torture which was relieved only by the knowledge that every evening would now end in Brienne's arms. Eyan was fairly bursting with excitement as he found her already awaiting him in their chamber.
She sat perched upon the bed, a lush pile of leather folded on the matress beside her. Her face was turned from him, her shapely shoulders silhouetted in the glow from the fire. As Eyan rushed to Brienne he did not see the furrow of her brow, the troubled stare that focused somewhere in the distance, or how she clutched her fists tightly to each other to halt their trembling. All he knew was that he had missed her greatly, and the feel of her in his embrace was the only thing that could relieve his suffering. With a beaming relieved smile, like a starving man just given sustenance, Eyan wrapped his loving arms around Brienne from behind, kissed her cheek soundly, and squeezed her to him. Jaime stood apart from them, not even a shadow at the side of the bed opposite Brienne. He wished he could give her the strength for which he knew she so desperately yearned.
Brienne chuckled warmly at Eyan's enthusiasm. His presence at last gave her a feeling of peace despite the awkward conversation she knew they must have. "How was your day, My Love?" She asked him, taking his hand.
Eyan raised her fingers to his lips, and kissed them sweetly. "Uneventful." He shrugged in satisfaction. "And yours?" Eyan asked, softly pinching her earlobe and tenderly rubbing her neck.
She gave a wistful smile to thank him for his caring, glad his work had presented no difficulties. Brienne's face had returned to the serious glare with which she had been studying the rich tanned hide set before her. Eyan sauntered lazily around her, eager to see her blue eyes, and engage in their usual teasing banter. When he saw the frown which stole her smile, he halted in his tracks.
"What is wrong?" He questioned, worried.
Brienne gestured toward the head of the mattress. "Would you sit with me please?" She bid him. "There is something we need to discuss." Brienne pressed her lips together anxiously.
Slowly, Eyan lowered himself onto the bed to face her. "Have you reconsidered my proposal?" He only half joked, with a nervous grin. "I would remind you that we have already informed your father, and received his blessing." His eyes sparkled. "It would be a shame to ruin all The Evenstar's preparations now." He tried joke over his confusion.
A wry grin relaxed Brienne's features. She marveled at the way he could always make her smile. "No, My Love." She assured him. "I have not reconsidered." Brienne sighed and regarded him adoringly. Watching them, Jaime almost felt he was intruding.
"I have something to show you." Brienne told Eyan. She carefully unfolded the yards of leather which held Widows Wail. Breathless, she bit her lip unable to bring her gaze to him.
Eyan stared at the finely crafted weapon, speechless for a moment. His eyes traced the long flawless Valyrian Steel blade. The intricately carved hilt so perfectly complimented that of Brienne's own sword. The ruby shone in the flickering light of the hearth as if it had been set ablaze.
"Ser Jaime's sword, I presume?" Eyan only half questioned. Brienne nodded, at last able to look at him.
Eyan's forehead wrinkled with thought. "I thought it had been lost?" His tone questioned.
Brienne nodded. "It was." She confirmed. "It has not been seen since Jaime entered The Red Keep, the day he died." Brienne answered, her tone falling in sadness at the thought.
"Yet it is here now?" Eyan stated, studying her. "How?" He questioned, unable to guess.
Brienne looked away in the direction where Jaime stood undetected. It was almost as if she sensed him there, and drew strength from his presence. "It…" She stammered. "It just appeared, there." Brienne pointed to the wall where Widows Wail had leaned next to Oathkeeper. "The last night of the storm, just before you returned, I found it here in my quarters." Brienne knew Jaime had given the weapon to her. She did not divulge that detail to Eyan. She also did not share that Jaime's fine weapon was not all that visited her that night.
Continuing to stare between Brienne and Widows Wail, Eyan simply exhaled long and slow at the strange explanation she gave. "Just appeared?" He squinted, trying to make sense of her words.
"I know it sounds unbelievable, but it is the truth." Brienne asserted.
After a long quiet moment, Eyan regarded Brienne with a loving tender smile. "I have no doubt it is, My Darling." He said softly. "I am certain Ser Jaime still watches over you." Eyan told her.
Brienne returned Eyan's gentle gaze. "You are?" She questioned, wondering if he had sensed Jaime's presence as she had.
Eyan reached for Brienne's hand and squeezed it tightly. "Yes, Dearest." He began. "Ser Jaime loved you." Eyan stated understandingly. "Any man who loves you, as I do, would move the heavens themselves to be by your side." He held her fingers even tighter, pledging his own adoration of her. "I am certain he meant for you to keep it safe for him." Eyan smiled.
Brienne could not veil the gentle upturn of her lips as she pondered her great blade as well as Jaime's, and what the union of those swords meant. 'It's yours. It will always be yours.' She heard his words echoing through her mind, not knowing that even now he whispered them at her side. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and nodded.
"I shall keep it well, and store it somewhere safe." Brienne declared with a resolute countenance.
"Nonsense." Eyan replied. He took hold of her other hand as if the words he spoke were a pledge. "This Sword was used to defend Westeros, and determine some of the most important moments in the history of The Realm." Eyan affirmed. "It was wielded at your side." He raised his chin nobly, imaging Brienne's magnificence in combat. "It was used to protect you." Eyan said gratefully. He paused and regarded Widows Wail silently, thanking the Gods for its existence. Eyan's unhindered acceptance of the past Brienne had shared with him, brought an unseen smile to Jaime's face.
Suddenly, taken with some spark of an idea, Eyan jumped to his feet. His eyes traveled quickly around the room before coming to rest upon a relic of armor mounted over the hearth. He bent and motioned towards Widows Wail. "May I?" He asked Brienne's permission. She nodded, confused but trusting him implicitly. Reverently, Eyan lifted the heavy Valyrian steel weapon and held it before him as he crossed the floor to the mantle like it were a priceless treasure. With a seamless swift motion he gripped Widows Wail in one hand and removed the ancient breastplate from the wall with the other. He smiled to realize that the bolts that protruded from the masonry were spaced perfectly. Carefully, he placed Widows Wail between the rivets to fasten it securely to the wall. The sword shone proudly in the dim light of Brienne's chamber.
Brienne watched as Eyan displayed Jaime's sword, unfettered by jealousy or anger. Her heart thrilled with the love she felt for him, as well as the love she would always hold for Jaime. Eyan was to be her husband, he would father her children and stand by her side for the rest of her life. The thought made her happier than she could have ever dreamed. Knowing Jaime would always be with her, as he had promised, comforted and strengthened her. As Eyan drew nearer, a soft adoring smile settled over Brienne's face. Tenderly, Eyan reached and caressed her cheek, she leaned into his touch. Jaime lowered his head and moved into the shadows, leaving them to their intimate moments.
"Ser Jaime's sword shall always have a place of honor in our home." Eyan vowed to Brienne.
She sighed in wonder. "Our home." She repeated, as Eyan sat next to her. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the visions his words painted. "I like the sound of that." Brienne admitted.
Eyan nestled his forehead to her. "So do I." He agreed happily.
Brienne and Eyan shared a long, loving kiss. They moved together, closer to each other, the promise of a night of passion heavy between them. They would end many days to come just like this, in each other's arms. With the knowledge that his own death had not been in vain, and Brienne would be safe, Jaime smiled to himself. He understood that someday he would hold his precious Brienne again. He would not intrude upon her private moments with Ser Eyan. These would be their times. He would never be far.
