AN: probably 5 chapters in all. Likely not finished before Sunday's episode, but probably before next week.

There was only the sound of their breathing, and Jaime looked at her with some veiled disbelief. "It's unlikely that they will take me seriously. You've vouched for me, yes. But I'll be offering advice, or at least, supporting Tyrion, who has recently not impressed the dragon queen."

"It doesn't matter. What you have to relate means something, even if they should dismiss it."

He nodded. "Will you help me?"

Brienne smiled, then nodded.

The room was dark, as were all the rooms of the castle. The hearths were glowing, undisturbed by the fight just hours before.

Daenerys, Jon, Tyrion, Sansa, Davos, and a few others were gathered around a table when Brienne and Jaime appeared. He was being pushed in one of Bran's contraptions that he had disposed of in lieu of a better design.

They silenced when the pair appeared, and watched as she situated him at the table. He did not look at them, but felt more at ease when she sat beside him.

"We are here," began the Queen. "Because that was but one battle. We have not achieved our aim, and there is reason to be concerned that the Night King is mounting a more ferocious battle in the coming days."

Bran arrived, and he sat stoically along the periphery, as had become his custom.

"Where is the Night King?" asked Sansa, looking at Bran.

"He's clouded from my sight."

"There cannot be any doubt that he means to gather more forces," began Tyrion, as eyes fell upon him. "He knows where Bran Stark is, as he had told us. He always knows. Finding him out, then, will not be a formidable task. He has time. He'll use it," the Hand paused, looking around. "And so must we."

"What are you saying?" asked Daenerys.

"I'm saying that the Night King has a dragon," he replied with delicacy.

"And?" Aegon spoke up. "That doesn't change what must be done."

"It changes everything," replied Tyrion. "He can fly. Wherever he deems fit. What if he's going to King's Landing? Sacking the city? Destroying the Red Keep? He'd have thousands of fighters once he killed them all."

Daenerys went pale. "He's taking my dragon to King's Landing?" she breathed.

"Viserion is not your dragon, Your Grace. Not anymore," he breathed.

"What do we do?" Davos spoke. "There's only so much we can do with the numbers we have."

"We need more numbers," Jaime said, looking up. "There is more to Westeros than Winterfell and King's Landing."

"And how, Ser Jaime," Daenerys began. "Do you propose we do that? We have the Vale. Some of the Iron Born…"

"Dale. The rest of the Islands. Tarth," he motioned to Brienne. "There are people along the way who may not have been tampered with by the dead. This is no time for wavering," he cleared his throat and looked at the company. "This is time to act. And act we must. Or we'll all be dead, sitting with our thumbs up our asses."

Some were moved by his bluntness, some were not.

"…I mean to say, we send crows immediately. Tell Tormund to get every Wildling down here. Tell Yara to send her fleet. Tell the Dornish that they must take up arms. This isn't about the North and King's Landing. It's about the fate of the entire world, and history will judge us, if there's any history at all," he finished, looking at each of them.

"What about Cersei?" asked Aegon. "We went to her, she told us to fuck off."

Jaime paled. He swallowed. "She'll die, and there will be nothing left to discuss. King's Landing is finished. There's no saving it. But we must save what we can of the rest of our world."

His words rang out in the cavern of the hall.

Brienne was looking at him, and when he felt her gaze, he turned, too.

She quickly looked away.

"Jaime Lannister is right," Bran's voice came from the corner. "Tyrion Lannister is right. We have maybe a week or two before this comes to a head."

"We send crows," began Daenerys. "And we see who answers. What if no one does?"

"Then we prepare to battle and probably die," Brienne replied. "We cannot sit idle."

"Where is Arya?" Sansa asked.

"No one has seen her, My Lady," Davos offered, looking at Varys.

"She was in the fight. I did not see her fall," Aegon stood. "I need a night. Time to think…" he began to leave.

"Jon, you can't," Sansa stopped him. "This needs all of us."

He looked at her, and sat again.

And Daenerys swallowed. "In the meanwhile, do we continue to prepare the men? Do we head them off? And do we try to stop them from invading King's Landing?"

"It would be a waste of precious time to do anything but stay here and prepare the men," Tyrion said. "We need to fortify Winterfell. We need to get more people. The further the King is, the more time we have. And if he advances with half a million wights, we need to have just as many to answer them. They'll need to be ready."

"There will be a smallish battle every night. So, there will be time to prepare," Jaime said. "We can learn their habits. Their ways. It will prepare us for when the Night King comes with the rest of the army."

Daenerys looked around. "Are we in agreement? We send crows along to all of the Houses not represented, and stay in Winterfell to prepare? Assuming that the Night King is going south."

"There can be no doubt," began Tyrion. "That's where he is heading."

The Queen nodded. "Very well," she looked at Missandei. "Send the crows."

Jaime smiled at Tyrion covertly. It had worked. Somehow, it worked. He watched as they all left the room, but Brienne stayed. He felt her next to him. Tyrion nodded at them both.

"Well. That went better than expected," he said with some mirth.

"Come on. I'll lead you back."

He was relying on her, which both delighted and infuriated him. The notion of him being a Knight, a gallant and honorable one, was always situated along the periphery of his mind…even though he had been told countless times that he was not an honorable man.

Brienne thought that he was.

Perhaps that was what mattered.

She pushed him to his sick bed and situated the chair so that he might lift himself back into it. He struggled somewhat, only because it was rather awkward, but got in eventually. When he looked at her she was gazing out of the window at the far end of the room. He covered himself. "I wonder how long it will take for me to get out of this bed."

She turned. "Take your medicine and try to walk every day, and it won't be long," she went over to the bedside table and handed him a vile of the potion. "Does it hurt?"

"My back?" he downed it.

She nodded.

"No. Not really. It's uncomfortable, as though I need exercise but am bedridden," he smiled.

Brienne rolled her eyes a touch. "You were very convincing. You and Lord Tyrion," she sat down.

Jaime shrugged. "It's what needed doing."

"I hope that Arya is safe," she held a faraway look.

"I…" he couldn't say. He didn't know the young Stark girl well, and there was no reason to believe that she could have survived.

"Don't say it," Brienne said.

"I wasn't going to."

"You were."

He sighed. "It's just that…I would have assumed that if she was alive, she'd have been at the meeting."

She paled. "Yes. I understand what you mean."

"Come, Brienne. You're a Knight. You know the ways of the world."

There was no answer she could think of that would adequately counter his argument. Though she was newly a Knight, she had seen much, lived much. And sometimes she wondered why she was still alive.

"What?" Jaime interrupted her reverie.

"What?" her eyes snapped to his.

"You're far away. Where are you?"

Brienne swallowed. "I don't care to dwell long in reflective things. It's impractical and I prefer to act and defend things and people who I believe in. But sometimes, I suppose, it's useful to consider if everyone you believe in is worth your concern. And sometimes, I think, they aren't."

Jaime nodded. "Never heard someone speak so frugally about thoughts."

"Are you making fun of me?" her brow furrowed.

"No. Well," he paused. "Maybe just a bit," he held out his hand to her, but didn't take it, and it fell back to the bed. "Look. What does this have to do with Arya Stark?"

"Nothing. It has to do with…what I've seen in my travels. How it's changed me. How it hasn't."

"Your concern has always been to defend the truth. What's right."

Brienne shrugged. "It's not always gone to plan."

"Things seldom do."

Her eyes fell. "Tell me, Ser Jaime. Why did you love Cersei?"

He closed his eyes, frowned, then looked away. He barely knew the answer. How could he explain it to her? "It's difficult to explain. But, I suppose, it was a combination of attraction, a shared childhood, and a feeling of being alone in the world save her."

She nodded. "That makes sense. If you're fine with being romantically involved with your sister."

"Are you judging me?" he didn't want to believe it.

"I'm not. It's not something that I could understand, but who am I to make any pronouncements about such a thing as love?"

"Yes. You've never been, have you?"

"I have not."

He looked at her very solemnly. He had not admitted anything to himself…he'd need to come to terms with that before he proclaimed anything, for she was sure to resist. He smiled. "Well, Tormund is quite smitten, it would seem."

Her eyes snapped to his. "What do you mean?"

"Come, Ser Brienne. You saw him. He ogled you and told you he'd knight you ten times over," he laughed, but was desperate for a reaction to the words.

"He's a fine person."

Jaime held his breath. "It sounds like there's an amendment coming."

"However, I'm not interested in those types of pursuits."

He nodded. "Not ever?"

"I beg your pardon?"

He was on the verge of speech, but stopped himself. "I'm rather tired. Perhaps tomorrow you might be able to help me with walking about."

Brienne nodded. "Of course. I'll be stationed outside tonight, and I'll come back just after a short rest," she stood. "Feel better, Ser Jaime."

She left him there, and he laid back. He was tired. But he also didn't want to give her further reason to be angry with him. He fell asleep shortly thereafter.

Brienne had gotten some food, a bit of rest, but with daylight being so sparse, she didn't get much. She walked out into the deep cold, the white glow emanating from the landscape. Fires were scattered about like discarded armor…but they were more valuable than any sword.

Save perhaps Oathkeeper.

She held it tightly. She truly loved that sword.

"Lady Brienne."

She turned. "Lady Sansa," she bowed. "What are you doing in the cold?"

"Wondering about Arya."

Brienne nodded. "Yes. We were just speaking of her not long ago."

"Who?"

"Ser Jaime and I."

Sansa looked away, into the woods beyond Winterfell. "You care for him."

"Who?"

She smiled and turned back. "Jaime Lannister."

"Well, he's misunderstood, I think. Yes, he's made some terrible mistakes. But so have most. And I believe, with all my heart, that he has honor."

"So you said," and she began to walk. "In what ways is he misunderstood?"

"He fought for his house, and his sister and father were ruthless and less than honorable. And his love for his sister clouded much of his life."

"It's strange, isn't it? It wasn't as though Cersei was a kind person."

They reached the edge of the courtyard. "Love is strange, as I understand, my Lady."

"It is and it isn't. But I think that love means protecting those whom you love. It means sharing the parts of yourself that no one else knows about. It means laughter, trust, and sometimes other things, depending on the people."

Brienne was looking at her very intently. "That all sounds right."

Sansa smiled. "And if you find that, you should not let it go."

"Have you found that, ever, Lady Sansa?"

"No. But I'm sure you will."

Brienne blanched. She was surely making fun of her, so she changed tact. "Is it something that you want?"

Sansa's face held some sadness. "Perhaps. One day, and if we survive this war."

Brienne watched as she went back to the castle, and waited for the sounds of the dead to pierce the night.