Thinly disguised Spoilers for 8x4… just right now in the author's note not the chapter.. You can skip it.
1. Finally.
2. I refuse to believe that is their last scene.
3. He's going back to protect the people, not Cersei. He doesn't want her to follow, because he knows he'll die, and she may very well too.
4. She's going to follow. (Jesus she's got to follow right?!)
….
"This is all really not necessary." Brienne held perfectly still as Sansa and her ladies circled around her.
"It is necessary." Sansa smiled.
"You're doing this for Ser Jamie." One of the woman, who's name she was constantly screwing up, giggled. "You want to look good for him, don't you?"
"Why?" Her eyes darted from side to side. "He knows what I look like and he wants to marry me anyway."
"Stop it." Sansa tilted her head. "We're not doing this for Jamie. We are doing this for you. Every woman should look her most beautiful on her wedding day."
"I can't even imagine what that would look like." Brienne sighed wiggling slightly where she stood.
"Hold still!" The seamstress chastised. Sansa winced.
"She'd poke you if you weren't wearing white." The Lady of Winterfell told her, a eyebrow raising slightly. "She's only being careful because she doesn't want to get blood on the dress."
"At least not yet." Another girl giggled, Sansa's eyes rolled dramatically, and Brienne bit her lip.
"On that note." Arya rolled her eyes before returning with a tea set. "Moon tea all around?"
Brienne's eyes widened, but she nodded just the same. Arya poured a cup and reached it out to her sister. Sansa paused for a moment before her head tilted and surprised smile came to her face.
"Actually I think I'll pass." She said evenly. Her younger sister's face went blank.
"Seriously?" She whispered breathlessly. Sansa's bit her bottom lip, before shrugging at her. Arya's face widened into a smile nodding at her before turning toward the future Lady Lannister. "You planning on having babies too?"
"Not yet for, Gods' sake." Brienne sighed, waving the cup towards her.
"Hold still!" The seamstress yelled again. Ayra handed her a cup before grasping one of her own, giving her a mock solute before swallowing it down. Brienne followed suite with a wince.
"There have a look M'Lady."
Sansa turned as the seamstress shook the fabric out around her swordswoman, her mouth making a soft 'o' shape as she did.
"I look like the Mountain with a dress on don't I?" The taller woman breathed.
"You look amazing." Sansa answered.
"She'll freeze." Arya chided, her eyes sliding up the long expanse of visible leg.
"It's warm in the sept." Sansa snapped. "She'll have a cloak. She looks amazing."
"You really do." Arya agreed, looking up at the other woman. "Your legs are the length of my entire body.
The older Stark girl reached out her hands and pulled the woman towards the nearby chair.
"Sit." She gestured. "Janna help me." She pulled a silver box from the dresser and opened it. "We'll run out of time. Arya channel the lessons Mother taught you. Get the brushes."
Her little sister heaved a sigh before doing she was told as Brienne sat statue still, her large eyes sweeping from side to side as Sansa pressed her face with powders and creams while Ayra begrudgingly twisted and pinned pieces of hair with jewels and flowers.
"Ready?" Brienne looked at the Stark girls; the ones she'd sworn an oath to find and return to their mother, the ones that had entwined her destiny with Jamie's in the first place. Sansa's strong sense of duty and honor was betrayed only by the sparkle in her eyes of a little girl who once loved weddings and romance. In her sister was a girl who knew her way around a world she wasn't meant for, but would miss just the same. Brienne knew she was somewhere in between the two. She nodded, standing slowly as Sansa turned her toward the mirror.
Her mouth slipped open.
"Don't cry." Ayra breathed. "Not until he sees you. It will smudge your makeup."
"Well, Dear Sisters." Sansa took her and Arya's hands in each of hers. "Let's go to the sept then, shall we?"
….
"Are you ready?" Tyrion looked at his brother, Jamie nodded quickly. "Are you sure?" His brother lowered himself in to his chair, rubbing his hand over his face. "Because you look like you're going to vomit."
"What am I doing?" He breathed heavily.
"Getting married." He blinked. "In Winterfell; in a sept smaller than an outhouse, in a damned hurry because your future wife can't wait any longer to bone you."
"I'm a complete idiot." He rubbed his face again. Tyrion had shaved his brother's beard that morning. Despite the fact that they were in the North, in the Winter. Despite the fact that Tyrion warned his southern born brother that he and his southern born bride may actually freeze to death up here, he wanted to look nice. Noble. "I'm taking this Noble born last of her line, most pure of all the Knights of the Seven kingdoms and binding her to me. The honor-less, one handed, sister fucking, king slayer." Tyrion winced. "Who the hell do I think I am?"
"You really have changed haven't you?" The half-man whispered airily.
"What?" Jamie whispered softly.
"Come on." Tyrion rolled his eyes, reaching out and grabbing his brothers hand. He started for the door before looking back at a dumbfounded Jamie. "Get the cloak. Come on."
"Did you not just hear what I said?"
"You jumped one handed into a fucking bear pit for her. You gave her your twin sword, Valyrian fucking steel! You armored her. You rode a bloody horse all the way north to fucking Winterfell when everyone here wanted your head on a stick, to fight the dead at her side. You knighted her. You fought beside her. You sat vigil at her bedside for days. Damn it Jamie you refused to even fuck her until you wed. You sent a raven to her father."
If Tyrion Lannister had been as tall as his brother he would have smacked him, instead he yanked his arm.
"She has brought out nothing but your honor, and as far as I can see she's given up none of her own." He almost yelled. "Don't fuck this up!" Jamie looked down at him before sobering with a nod. "Now get the damn cloak."
Jamie nodded quickly before following his brother down to the sept.
Podrick met them at the door with a grin.
Tyrion watched his brother keenly, catching his wife's eye as she slipped into the room and to his side.
"He's freaking out." He whispered to her.
"Oh Gods." Her hand flew to her mouth as she looked around the room as if they might smite her. He chuckled a little before gesturing to Jamie. He absently brought his right arm up to rub his mouth again, stopping as he felt the cold metal connect with his fresh face. He stared at it like it was foreign to him. Tyrion winced. "Oh Gods." Sansa repeated unabashed this time.
"What's wrong?" Arya whispered from behind her.
"He's cracking up." Tyrion muttered. Jon and Dany had taken their spots in the small space and Podrick had gone to retrieve Brienne when suddenly Jamie turned to his brother.
"Help me take it off." He murmured, extending his hand to him.
"What?" His nose wrinkled.
"Help me take the damn thing off." He grumbled in an attempt to stay quiet as Sansa stepped forward and helped him roll up his sleeve. "Thank you." He breathed at her. "Please, just get the damn thing off."
"How do I?" She asked suddenly glancing back towards the door.
"Just loosen the laces and pull." Tyrion said helpfully stepping up and showing her. His brother pulled, and Sansa looked at the wrapped limb before quickly un rolling the wrap and passing it to Tyrion who unceremoniously shoved it in his pocket. Sansa deftly folded up the sleeve until his limb sat right at the cuff. Jamie swallowed hard, wiping his damp eyes.
"Thank you, my dear Sister." He repeated kissing her cheek as she slipped back beside her husband.
"What happened?" Tyrion asked in confusion.
"Some scars aren't meant to be hidden." She told him honestly clutching their joined hands to her breast. Tyrion would look back later and realize he had decided to love her then, to really truly love her. But in that moment however, all eyes drifted to the entrance of the small sept.
…
Jamie was pretty sure he stopped breathing when he caught sight of her. He didn't hear the guests gasp, or the staggered tears of Tormund the Giantsbane. He didn't hear anything except his own breathing as she met him at the altar. Her eyes flipped from his face to his arms as he reached for her. Her left hand carefully reaching out and taking his right arm in hers. He watched her take a sharp breath, and give him a watery smile. Her thumb caressing the end of his arm. Tears slipped down his face when he blinked and she smiled her most radiant smile at him with pink painted lips.
He wouldn't remember the words spoken if his whole life depended on it. They'd already made their vow, it occurred to him suddenly; in a bathhouse in Harrenhall, in a red tent in RIver Run, in the great hall of Winterfell and on the battlefield against the dead. And Jamie Lannister had never felt anything more strongly.