Jaime did not know how long he remained crouched upon the stone floor of his chamber, unable to move, bitter tears streaming down his face. All he was aware of was the aching in his heart for Brienne and the son she had given him, whom he did not know. The babe he had never even seen. His shame consumed him. Jaime longed for the things he had missed. He was not there when Brienne discovered she carried his child. There was no father to which she could tell her happy news. He had not watched the belly of the woman he loved grow with the life he had put there. Had not felt their child move within her. His was not the hand Brienne had grasped as she pushed his babe toward life. His words of love were not whispered in her ears upon seeing the face of their child for the first time. Jaime could scarce imagine her burden as an unmarried woman bringing a bastard child into the world. Had the knowledge that she would be mother to the child of the man who had abandoned her even been welcome? There was no hatred in the world stronger than that Jaime felt for himself.
When he could stand the space inside his own skin no longer, when there were no more tears left to cry, Jaime rose slowly barely able to support his own weight upon shaking legs. All within him called out for Brienne. She was near, somewhere. He knew that now. All he need do was find her. He raced to the window and pressed his face against the tiny spaces between the boards which barred his view. The light had disappeared from the sky long ago. In his stupor he had not noticed. Every part of his body strained to catch a glimpse of anything on the other side. His fingers pried desperately at the planks, trying to pull them from the frame into which they were nailed tightly. The lattice did not budge.
Slamming his fist against the sturdy panels, Jaime howled at the top of his lungs. "Brienne!" His shriek echoed from every corner of the room.
Jaime fell to his knees, his face in his hands, and wailed as if the force of his sheer will could open the path he needed to her. He felt the exhausted rasp of his lungs when air finally failed him. The taste of blood surged into his mouth from his raw throat. He sat on the floor, gasping for breath, his mind racing ahead of him. He had to find a way to reach Brienne. It was then that he remembered. He had not heard the turn of the lock when his brother had exited his cell. Jaime raised his head in shocked anticipation. Tyrion had left the door unsecured.
He rose as if in a frantic dream. Jaime stumbled to the bed, and rifled through the garments Tyrion had left. He could not go to Brienne in rags. He sighed with gratitude as he stripped the soiled clothing he had worn for months from his body and pulled on a clean tunic and britches. There were boots, and a dark cloak. All necessities for moving secretly through the passageways of The Keep. He wanted no one to know he was there. Jaime's only wish was to see Brienne, and the child she had given him.
Jaime trembled as he stumbled to the door, afraid to hope. He clasped the knob like it was a lifeline, and held his breath as he twisted the metal in his palm. The air in his lungs burst forth in relieved laughter when the door opened revealing the corridor beyond. Tyrion had not locked it. So, elated upon his discovery was Jaime that did not think to wonder why. Cautiously, he stepped forth toward his freedom, toward Brienne.
Like the specter he had become, Jaime slipped through the shadows of the Red Keep. He knew not the exact location of his cell. There was no way for him to discern just how far he was from Brienne, and no telling who he might meet along the way. He knew exactly where she would be. Somehow he had to find his way there. Spurred on by his love for the woman he betrayed, all Jaime knew to do was keep moving.
The corridors were different, newer, brighter, almost happier than they had been. However, as he trudged onward, Jaime noticed familiarities in the pathways. The turnings, the directions, even the sounds along his way told him he was near to the White Sword Tower.
Jaime marveled at the awareness that formed in his thoughts as he continued. Brienne was so close to him. He only needed to make it the Lord Commander's chamber. Then, he would see her, finally, be near her. What he would say once her shock of his having returned from the dead had worn away, he did not know. How she would react, he could not guess. His only concern, now, was simply reaching her. Jaime hoped the rest would take care of itself.
There were only a few guard patrols attending the Tower at that time of night, and they were located along the perimeter of the structure. Jaime could hear them down some of the passages he crossed, but none appeared along his route. This made him certain that the Gods themselves were leading him straight to Brienne. At least it gave him hope to think so.
Each step seemed miles. Jaime's pace was painstakingly slow. He dared not let down his guard. He could not allow himself to be detected. He had to find Brienne. Then, as he turned the same corner he barely noticed when the Lord Commander's quarters were his, the entrance to Brienne's chamber stood before him. Forcing his racing heart and gasping breaths to quiet, Jaime pressed his ear against the oak. There was no sound on the other side.
Suddenly, Jaime was filled with doubt. As he had ventured forth from the confines of his gloomy billet, all he envisioned was the joyous reunion with Brienne for which he longed. Now, when he was so near to he that he could almost feel her, he realized that she might not be as elated to see him. Brienne had spent almost a year thinking him dead, after he had left her crying alone in the frigid darkness. The weight of the realization hit Jaime harder than the bricks that had all but took his life. He almost wished they had. Jaime knew not what would become of him if Brienne could not forgive him. He fought himself not to lose his nerve. Above his doubt, through his fear, there was one thing of which he was certain. He loved Brienne as no man had ever loved a woman, and he needed to see her.
There was no door in the Red Keep that ever held Jaime at bay, no lock he could not force, no secret place he did not know well. He had committed each to memory during his years of rushing to Cersei each time she beckoned him. The memories shamed him. If he had known that Brienne would be waiting along his life's course, he would have run to his father and confessed their secret when he and Cersei had begun their sinful explorations of each other as children. He would have gladly taken whatever punishement Tywin would have decreed and considered himself lucky. He would not have coveted any woman until he gazed into the blue depths of Brienne's eyes. As it were, Jaime prayed for the chance to make it right.
He took a deep breath and fingered the lock. He had no dagger tip with which to force open the mechanics of the bolt. Stepping backward, the sting of frustration began to settle over him. He breathed a defeated sigh, and raised his eyes upward, as if imploring the Gods for assistance. Then his eyes fell upon the end of the corridor. There, standing at attention on display, was a shining suit of golden Kingsguard armor. He recognized the markings. He had once worn an equally splendid vestment. It was from the reign of the Mad King. Jaime rushed for the grand suit of metal which had, in its day shielded some knight far more valiant than he considered himself. As he neared, he could make out the ominous scuffs, dents, and scratches. It must have been a relic left after the destruction of Daenarys and her dragon.
'Much like me.' Jaime thought to himself. 'Once grand, now carrying the scars and marks of devastation, and pain.' There was no time to contemplate the parallel further. He hoped to right some of the wrongs which had left far greater wounds unseen within him. Jaime urgently reached for the shoulder and squeezed his fingers beneath the pauldron, searching for the leather sashes which held the plates together. With only a few twitches of his hand, Jaime grabbed the metal buckle at the end of the stap. The jostling of the armor rang loudly in his ears as he pulled fiercely, trying to separate steel from leather. Jaime hoped their was no one close enough to hear the clanking, but was undaunted in his attempt.
Much to Jaime's relief, after a few moments, the buckle ripped through the old brittle hide. He retrieved the small square harness, and clasped it tightly to him as he returned to Brienne's door. In one fluid motion, he twisted the buckle around, and pushed up the prong so it could be used to pick the lock. Slowly, carefully, Jaime inserted the straight tine into the keyhole and worked the gears and tumblers until he heard them give way. A few careful turns, and the lock let lose its hold upon the latch. Jaime turned the knob, and let out a satisfied sigh when the door opened before him, as if it had been awaiting his arrival.
On feet surprisingly light for a man whose bones had been nearly crushed, Jaime stole into Brienne's quarters. Standing as still as a weirwood tree, he took a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. What kind of impression would he make, knocking over a piece of undetected furniture, and scaring Brienne half to death? Slowly his vision came to him in the low illumination of the dying fire from the living chamber. The solar in these new rooms, seemed as if it had been constructed with Brienne in mind. It was modest, with an economy of furnishings. There was nothing unnecessary to clutter a new life. It suited her.
Jaime peered further into the shadows. A small hallway branched off from the solar. The dim glow of firelight illuminated the distant wall where the path ended. There were two doorways, one was dark. Jaime imagined it was perhaps waiting for the babe to grow a bit older. To be of age to leave his mother's side. The soft, warm light, was coming from the threshold directly opposite the darkened doorway. It must have been Brienne's sleeping chamber. Of course they were slumbering. Jaime remembered from his time with her at Winterfell that Brienne was not one for lingering long into the night. Sleep usually found her early. She slept soundly, lost in her dreams. He smiled recalling how he had lain awake for hours watching her, never wanting to be anywhere but by her side, never imagining he would leave. But he had left. Jaime shoved his remorse deep into his chest and shuffled toward the light.
It felt like an eternity until Jaime reached out and gently pushed aside the oak panel that separated him from Brienne. With the greatest of caution, he stepped into the room. His eyes fell first upon the wide windows that led to a balcony beyond. For a fleeting moment, Jaime thought of Brienne standing before the grande view, holding their child in her loving arms. The image calmed him, and he turned, scanning the interior of the chamber. Jaime drew in a sharp excited breath when he saw, beyond the large glowing hearth, the shape of his beloved outlined in the quilts as she lay upon the thick mattress of her bed. Pride surged through him as he saw Oathkeeper hanging from the foot post, gleaming in majesty. His heart melted, to see that beside the head of the bed, made of fine dark wood, stood a lovely delicate bassinet.
Jaime did not feel himself move as he drew near to them. His eyes never left Brienne's form. Visions of what they had shared filled his mind. Every nerve in his body held a memory of her. His skin still felt the tingle of her touch. His lips still held the taste of her. His cock again reacted to the thought of her velvet sheath around him. He longed to hold her once more in his arms. This night, however, he would be satisfied simply to gaze upon them. He would earn them back in the morning light. Until then, he simply needed to know that they were truly alright.
Upon finally standing beside Brienne, Jaime found that all he could do was stare. The planes and angles of her features were illuminated by the firelight. Her shoulders softly rose and fell as she slept. He lost himself listening to the song of her gentle sighs, and remembered falling asleep to the soft murmurs of her slumber. His arms ached to wrap themselves around her. What a fool he had been to ever leave her side. A tiny rustle drew his eyes to the cradle next to her. Their son stirred in his sleep. At last, he regarded the precious child they had made. The babe took his breath away. Never had he seen a child so perfect. Even lovely, Myrcella had not been as beautiful as the child Brienne had bore him.
Jaime moved closer to them, yearning to take his place as husband and father, and to never let them go. For a long moment, he felt he could actually live the sweet visions that filled his mind. As if sensing his father's thoughts, Galladon stirred. The babe opened his eyes and blinked happily up at Jaime. It almost seemed that the child recognized him. Jaime stared in awe as his own face stared at him with Brienne's eyes. Forgetting himself, Jaime reached down and rested his hand softly upon the infant's chest. Settling the babe, he smiled warmly at the feeling of his heart being stolen from his chest. It was then that Galladon cooed sweetly, reacting to the happiness in Jaime's expression.
Ever vigilante even in slumber, for any change in her babe, Brienne awakened. The protective mother snapped immediately to the alert. Roused from a peaceful sleep, eyes unaccustomed to the darkness, all that formed to awareness in Brienne's mind was the image of an intruder in her private bed chamber. A cloaked figure loomed over her bedside, his hand reaching into her son's bassinet.
In the shadows there was nothing to identify Jaime to her. Even his handless right arm was obscured by the folds of fabric that billowed around him. In the space of a breathless moment, a blurr flashed before Jaime's eyes as Brienne threw aside the quilt, and bolted upright. Jaime heard the high pitch shriek of Oathkeep being drawn from the scabbard. He could not steady his balance, stumbling backward as Brienne shoved him away from Galladon. Her strength propelling her toward him, she jumped from the bed. Before he could react, Oathkeeper whirled angrily past his head, and jabbed fiercely at his gut. He was again pushed farther across the room, ducking and dodging the forceful thrusts of her blade.
"Who are you?" Brienne demanded, trying to chase the sleep from her brain. "What do you want?" She shouted. From what she had seen, it was clear to her what the assailant had come for, her babe. She vowed to herself that it was she who would reap the spoils this night. She would take his head. Again, she sliced at the man's face, coming only a hair's breadth from drawing life blood. Hearing his mother's agitation, Galladon began to whimper and wail from his cradle.
In the darkness, Jaime lost his footing and fell to the floor. He was relieved to realize that his reflexes were still lightning quick, rolling out of the way of Brienne's slicing blows. Sparks lit the night, as her Valyrian steel blade came crashing down onto the stone floor. Jaime knew Brienne would run him through before he could even announce himself. She had no reason to imagine it was him. In her mind, he was lying dead. Jaime had no choice but to reveal himself.
Frantically, he rose to one knee, shielding his face from her blade with his his arm. "Brienne!" Jaime bellowed. "Brienne! Stop! It's me!" He called. "It's me!" He repeated, finally pushing the hood from his face, as Brienne raised Oathkeeper for another volley.
Brienne was just about to bring the blade crashing down unto the intruder's skull, when she realized who it truly was that spoke to her. Suddenly, the trajectory of her stroke faltered. Brienne felt her arms go weak. She fought to make sense of what was happening as she lowered Oathkeeper to her side. Her lungs refused to fill with air, there were no words in her throat. Brienne stared intently at the ghost before her. Was it true? Was this really Jaime? He was alive. Her mind reeled as it raced in uncontrollable directions.
"It's me." Jaime whispered, his eyes begging her to set aside her doubt and believe him.
Her legs buckling, Brienne fell to her knees in front of him. To his relief her eyes grew soft, and he could almost see the love behind them. He could also read the unspoken confusion there. With trembling fingers, she lifted her hand to his face, caressing his jaw. As if he could to hold onto her, Jaime raised his palm and pressed her hand to his skin, his eyes filling with joyful tears.
"You're alive." Brienne sighed in disbelief. For a moment Jaime thought her tears would mix with his, and they would share a beautiful reunion.
"All this time?" She breathed in hoarsely. She could not yet find voice for all of the quandaries that circulated through her mind.
It was then that Galladon, alone in the darkness and fearing that his mother's silence signaled that she had left him, let out a piercing cry in search of her. Brienne turned her head and looked over her shoulder, checking on her infant. Jaime's gaze followed hers in concerned response. Her babe's fearful wail brought everything back to Brienne. She saw herself standing with Jaime in the cold courtyard at Winterfell, her desperate sobs pleading with him not to go. She felt again, the hollow pit her heart became watching him ride away. Brienne felt her fatherless babe growing within her. She saw both the pitying and scornful stares of those around her as her form had rounded with Jaime's child. She remembered her fear at bringing that child into the world without him by her side. Brienne recalled the lonely agony of Galladon' birth, and her determination to make a life for her son beyond the label Kingslayer's Bastard.
When she looked back to Jaime, the softness had disappeared from her stare. She glared bitterly at him. His face too, lost its hopeful anticipation, as he watched the hatred paint her features. Brienne pulled her hand back angrily, and loosed her wrath upon his cheek, as blue fire flashed in her eyes. Jaime felt no pain from her slap. The agony in his heart was far too great.
"Get Out!" Brienne seethed through gritted teeth.
Jaime shook his head, not wanting to move. "Please. Brienne? Let me explain." He begged.
"Get Out!" Brienne screamed. She beat his chest with her fists. She slammed her open palms against his jaw. Finally she pushed him as far from her as she could.
"Brienne." Jaime's tried to plead his case, sprawled upon the stones his voice wracked with pain.
She knelt, defeated, on the floor. Her wary eyes searched his face looking for a reason that could justify what he had done. "Get out." Brienne sobbed.
The crushing sorrow and confusion that Jaime found in Brienne's expression shattered him. It was somehow worse than the grief he saw in her frown the night he left her. He had done this, all of it. It was he who inflicted this pain upon the woman who possessed his heart. Her anger, her hatred, her distrust, he had put within her. He could torment her no longer. If she needed him gone this night, he would go. He would try to win back her love some other way. In this moment, he would give her the only peace he could, his absence.
Jaime stood unsteadily, backing toward the doorway. His could not take his eyes from her. She could not stop her tears from falling. Galladon continued to cry from his bed, his need for his mother growing more urgent. Jaime's brain told him to continue on his retreating path, his body would not cooperate. He clung to the doorframe, wanting to gather Brienne in his arms, a furrowed frown creasing his brow. Jaime's entire being was in as much pain as hers.
"I'm sorry." He wept a strangled cry before disappearing around the corner, and making his way to the door of her quarters, leaving Brienne and their son alone, once more.
Brienne sat, trying to breathe, her mind reeling. He was alive. He had been alive. While she had carried and birthed his child, he was yet living. Surely, that meant he had not wished to be with her, had never wanted her. But, why had he come to her now? What purpose would be served by making his appearance this night? She could not answer the questions that taunted her, and howled in her mind. Screaming, somewhere near to her awareness there was screaming. Galladon.
Brienne gasped, and jumped to her feet. She rushed to her child's cradle and lifted him comfortingly into her arms. Brienne wrapped her own body around Galladon as if she could protect him from the unseen ghosts, and doubts that plagued her. She held to her babe like a beacon in a storm, and wept through the night.