In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.
When word reached the North of the fall of Kingslanding, Brienne did not cry. Her tears for the tragedy that was Jaime Lannister were all used up. She felt no anger toward him either, just a hollow ache in her chest where her battered heart soldiered on. A small part of her had hoped that Jaime Lannister would surprise her one last time and come back. But if she was honest with herself, she'd known from the start that what they shared wasn't to be.
Perhaps in another life, things could have been different.
In another life, where he had not been twisted and manipulated by his sister and was not plagued with insurmountable demons, perhaps in a life like that he could have stayed with her.
But not this life.
In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just.
She needed no proof that the Kingslayer had perished in the city along side his sister. She struggled every night not to envision Ser Jaime, her Jaime, in the Red Keep as it crumbled beneath Drogon's fire. She didn't want to think of him that way, the body she'd known so intimately bruised and broken beyond repair. She had no doubt that his bones were buried among the rubble of the Keep, But she'd rather remember the man who fought by her side through the long night.
She knew in her heart that he'd died by Cersei's side. He was Jaime Lannister, after all. He'd decided he was going to reach his sister and she was sure he succeed. She knew him too well to imagine that he'd shy away from a fight, even as the world literally crumbled around him. Perhaps she should hate him for it, for leaving her for Cersei, but she didn't. She knew who he was when she let him come to her bed. She knew he was a man broken beyond repair. She knew no matter what she felt for him or he for her, he would never be entirely hers. It was too late for that. He'd committed too many atrocities at the behest of his sister to ever wash his hands of her entirely. That's why she never told him she loved him, because she knew he couldn't say it back. And oh, how she had loved him.
But he had never been hers to lose, not truly. He'd been hers to hold but not to have. She'd known the moment he rode away from Winterfell, choosing his toxic and inescapable family ties over what they had, that she would never see him again.
In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent.
When she'd asked Podrick to have the Maester brew her some moon tea, the loyal squire did her the courtesy of not asking questions. He'd brought the steaming mug and sat it on her table, the same table where Jaime had sat the Dornish wine that fateful night, the night that started their tragically brief moment of genuine happiness.
If only the consequences of those short weeks had been as fleeting.
She stared at the mug until it no longer steamed. As her fire burned low, she dumped the chilly liquid in the chamber pot.
Twice more she had Podrick fetch the tea for her. Twice more she poured it out without ever taking a sip.
We don't get to choose who you love.
She didn't want to, but she grew to love the life growing inside her, turning her body more womanly than it had ever been before.
With peace restored to Westeros and the North granted it's independence from the other six kingdoms, Brienne's oath to Caitlyn was fulfilled. She had not only aided in the return of both Stark girls to Winterfell, but also in ensuring their survival of both the great and last wars. With her pledge discharged, she was finally ready to return home, to Tarth.
She return to the beautiful isle of her childhood and put away her weapons of of war, all except Oathkeeper, which she hung above her hearth as a reminder of the price that she and so many others had paid for peace.
None more so than Jaime Lannister. He had once said that there were no other men like him and he was right. He was riddled with contradictions. He was both a man without honor and a man of honor. He was both her friend and enemy. He was a kingslayer and savior of thousands. He was a good man and hateful. Both beauty and beast. And after he had battled so hard for a second lease on life, he found himself incapable of living it, incapable of letting go of the man he had been. She would have to find a way to live with all the pieces of the man she'd loved and lost, because she refused to cherish a falsely painted memory.
It's yours. It will always be yours.
The second and final time Brienne cried for Jaime Lannister was when the Maester placed their squalling son in her arms. The boy had come out wrong and stunted like the Imp, but Brienne didn't care. She had been called Brienne the Beauty as a cruel jest, but while Jaime had never called her beautiful, he'd looked at her in a way that made her feel beautiful. And that was exactly how she would look at their son.
He was hers and he would always be hers.
She had loved Jaime, but just as with Renly, love had not been enough to save the one she loved.
Nothing is more hateful than failing to protect the one you love.
She had failed Renly, unable to protect him from his own ambition.
She had failed Jaime, unable to protect him from his path of self-destruction.
She wouldn't fail again.
She placed kisses over every misshapen inch of her perfect child.
No, this time she would not fail to protect the one she loved.
And more importantly, Jaime Selwyn Storm would be a good man.
I own nothing, but the people who do went an screwed up my beautiful darlings, so I took matters into my own hands.
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