Jaime Lannister heard the rush of blood through his ears as he pushed himself to his limit.

His arms were shaking as he tired to steady himself on the chair. It was unfortunate that the chair had wheels, for it served as a poor steadying device. He could bear his weight on his legs, but they remained stubbornly docile. He still could not move them…but at least now he could stand.

Jaime was going to fight when the Night King came. He was. He would be beside Brienne if he had to sit in that fucking chair.

"Ser Jaime!"

He turned. She was rushing to his side…and he stumbled, falling into the bed. "Ser Brienne," he managed, turning and sitting up.

"I thought that you were going to wait for my assistance," she stood there, watching him concernedly.

"Well, you'll likely not always be here to help. Best I start somewhere," he grabbed his legs with his left arm and pulled them back onto the bed. He hated that he was so handicapped. He only had one working limb.

She swallowed. "You could have fallen," and she moved his chair and sat on the wooden one.

"Yes, well. I suppose I could have. But that doesn't mean that I'd be hurt again. There are no giants that I can see…" he smiled.

She blushed. "I wish you wouldn't make fun."

"Sorry?"

"I know I'm monstrously tall. But that doesn't mean…"

"I was kicked by a giant in the back, those were your words," he interrupted. "I was not speaking about you or your height. I wish you'd realize that I'm sincere and that I have no intention of causing you pain."

She smiled very slightly. "It's difficult after a lifetime of it."

He nodded. "I've dealt with 'Kingslayer' and 'Oathbreaker' for twenty years. I know what it's like," he paused. "Well. Maybe not exactly. You cannot help your impressive height."

"Nothing impressive about it, really."

"No? Does it not help you in battle? Does it not render you a formidable opponent?"

Brienne looked at him. "It does both."

"Then I'd say it's impressive, and most Knights would be pleased to have it."

"Not many Ladies would."

Jaime sighed, sitting back. "No. But you never wanted to be a Lady. You wanted to be a Knight."

"I wanted…" she began. "To be both. But the world does not favor Ladies who look and act like me. It supports old ideas and labels that many people cannot wear. And so I abandoned the notion, and decided to embrace the warrior label. But that doesn't change who I fundamentally am, nor does it make me less of a woman. Well," she paused. "Perhaps a little."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I do not need your pity."

"I mean no offense. You once listened to me speak of my station in this world, and you're the only one who knows it. Not even Cersei nor Tyrion, though my brother knows some of the story. He's persuasive," he smiled very slightly.

"Podrick knew mine."

He swallowed. "Is he…?"

"We cannot find him."

Jaime's gaze fell. "Tell me your story, Brienne."

She cleared her throat. "My father wanted to make a good match for me. He's a good man, basically. So he held a ball," she paused, then stood, went to the window. "And all of the eligible men in the land came, for Tarth holds some wealth. No sapphires," she smiled to herself. "But wealth nonetheless. I danced with many…and I was so happy. They told me in soft tones that they'd take me away to their castles…and I believed them," she paused. "I wanted to believe them. Until it became too obvious that they were making fun of me. They laughed…and I realized just how ugly and monstrous I was. I hold no delicacy…" she closed her eyes. "Renly then came to my side. He began to dance with me. He said, 'Don't let them see you cry. They're nasty little shits, and nasty little shits aren't worth your tears.' From then on I wanted to save him, as he had saved me," she turned back around, and when she looked at Jaime, he was transfixed. "But I failed."

"Brienne. You're neither ugly nor monstrous."

"You don't mean that. You've made your own comments…insulting me…"

"But that was…" he hated himself then. "I was your prisoner. Trying to goad you in order to escape. So much has changed since then."

"And so much hasn't," she went over. "Get up. Let's walk."

"No…we need to finish this."

She rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter. I simply do not like having to worry about people I care for making fun of me."

"But I'm not! I wasn't. I'm just…an irritating, sarcastic ass. That's all. Don't you know that?" he added softly.

"It's fine. I do. But when it comes to me, it hurts."

Jaime nodded. "I won't do it again."

She swallowed. "Come on," she reached for him.

He took her hand with his left, his only. "You are lovely, Lady Brienne," and he kissed her knuckles. She told him she cared for him…to his face. And he was moved.

She almost yanked her hand away…but she didn't, and helped him to standing. "Put your arm around my waist. We can start there."

He did so, and he grasped her tunic, relishing how close they were. "Where will you take me? I'm at your mercy."

"We will start with the window," and she turned hm toward it. "Now, right foot," she waited as he dragged his right foot in front of him. "Left," and he painstakingly moved his left. "See? You can move your feet."

"Wonderful. As long as the wights move as fast as Tyrion holding a bottle of wine being ordered into battle, I'll be fine."

"Stop it," but she chuckled.

It had been two days, and he was improving. In fact, he could walk, slowly, by himself. Brienne had kept her promise and came to his room twice a day. They had begun to venture into the castle…

And Jaime was now sitting by the fire in the great hall, sipping wine. He had taken his potion as directed and felt almost better. He prided himself on never accepting milk of the poppy, though there was no real reason to hold pride in something like withstanding pain. Everyone had it, to a greater or lesser degree.

"What's going on in that mind of yours?"

Jaime looked up. "Pain remediation."

Tyrion sat next to him. "Are you in much?"

"Not really. It's better."

He nodded. "We've had answers from much of the crows. Most are coming."

"Most?"

"Dorne has proven to be reluctant. But we've got the Summer Isles on the way, the rest of the Iron Isles, even some in Essos. The problem is, they'll likely be too late."

"And what of the rest of Westeros?"

"All on their way. Including the Wildlings."

Jaime nodded. "Well, it's something."

"I alerted Cersei."

"You did."

"I had to. How awful would it be to leave her there, defenseless and unprepared?"

He looked at the fire. "I cannot be impartial when it comes to her. So it's best I say nothing."

"And what of Ser Brienne? Unable to be impartial about her, too?" Tyrion sipped his wine.

Jaime swallowed, then downed his wine and poured some more. "It's complicated."

"It isn't. People make things complicated."

"Well, seeing as how I'm a person…"

"Jaime. Look at me."

He did.

"I know you as well as anyone, perhaps even more than Cersei. I know that you love her."

He sighed. "I suppose I have for quite some time. It started as an irritating relationship, then moved on to amusement, to respect, to caring. And somewhere it transformed. I cannot say where or when…" he paused, then looked at him. "Ned's sword. It was melted and made into Widow's Wail. And the other half was given to her…by me."

"You should say it out loud. Say it, Jaime. It'll make it easier once you tell her yourself."

"Am I going to tell her? I don't know."

"Well, you're not going to sit idly while death is knocking, are you? What good will it be to die with those words in your throat? And should you both survive somehow…" Tyrion sighed. "Tell her. Perhaps you both can enjoy some happiness in these last days. Besides, it might be the only truly healthy relationship you've ever had."

He chuckled. "Can't argue with that," and he sipped.

"Does she love you?"

Jaime closed his eyes. "No. I don't think so."

"Well, perhaps she only requires a push."

"Or perhaps she only sees me as a friend."

Tyrion nodded. "Possibly. But you're still moderately handsome. You have some wit, albeit but little. You're a fine Knight, sometimes. You're only somewhat broken by your relationship with your sister…" he paused. "Never mind. You're a right mess. You shouldn't tell her."

Jaime laughed. "But there it is. What can I offer her?"

"I think you've already given it to her. She wanted to be a Knight."

"But then I have nothing else…"

"Oh, come now brother. You have you. And if she wants that, that's all you need to offer," Tyrion stood and poured more wine.

Jaime felt his throat constrict. "She doesn't. And is it fair to burden her with this knowledge?"

"Nothing is fair. But she'd appreciate the truth."

He closed his eyes. "She thinks she's a monster. That she's ugly."

"Excellent. You have plenty of experience with those kinds of thoughts."

"What do you…?"

"Jaime. Have I or have I not been the subject of such ridicule my entire life?"

He smiled at him. "Thank you, brother."

Tyrion nodded, sat back down. "I hope that the two of you find happiness…here, at the end of all things."

She was practicing her stance. Balance, concentration…she held Oathkeeper in her grasp. She turned and swung her Valarian Steel at an invisible opponent.

"You're quite something to behold."

Brienne turned to see Jaime in the doorway of the courtyard. There was no one else there. "You're up and about. That's good to see," she sheathed her sword and went over to him.

"Thanks to you."

"Well, it was the least I could do, considering."

"Considering what?"

"You saved my life, again."

He nodded. "Seems we keep doing that. Ever wonder why?"

She looked at him. "Honor, and…"

"It's not honor, Brienne. Honor compels you to fight on a side. You are not always on my side."

She turned away and started back inside. "I am, though. You are my friend."

He followed her, though a bit slowly. "You'll need to lessen your stride, friend, if we are to walk together."

She smiled, then slowed. "Sorry."

"But yes. We are friends. As true as I've ever had."

"Your friendship has meant the world to me. I mean that," she looked at him as they walked on.

"As it has for me," he swallowed…they were in the castle, there was a small alcove lit with a torch just to his right. "Come," he touched her arm, and guided her into the recess, his heart pounding. "Lady Brienne, there is something that I need to discuss with you. It's of some importance, and I'd appreciate your listening until I'm through, without interruption, as it is delicate in nature."

"All right," her brow was furrowed.

"Promise me that you'll listen until I'm through."

"I promise."

"You won't leave this alcove."

"No."

He nodded and took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and leaned against the stone wall, Brienne directly across from him. "I was in love with my sister." He opened his eyes.

She nodded.

"And that relationship has mired everything in my life. I fathered her three children. And I had to pretend that they weren't mine. Pretend that I didn't love her. At least, as more than a brother. And I became accustomed to it, so much so that it was second nature to me. All of the lies, the hiding, the…well. It was my life.

I took it as a fact, and that loyalty to Cersei was all that mattered. And I acted accordingly. I do not know when I began to realize that she was mad. But I think part of me always knew, and it was easier to deny it.

So I did," he looked at her. "What I've always wanted was to love someone and have them return it, loving me as myself. To accept me without condition. I believed that Cersei did. But she did not."

Brienne's face was indiscernible.

He swallowed, looked at the ceiling, then back. "It didn't occur to me that I could ever be moved by anyone else. I always said that we don't choose who we love. And I believe that. We don't. But Cersei soon became a habit, and I'm not sure if that's love," he searched her face. "I came to Winterfell, because I felt compelled to. I felt compelled to because it's the right and honorable thing to do. I felt compelled to because I didn't know what else I could do to be right and honorable. I felt compelled to because I knew that you would be here, because it is right and honorable. And I wanted to see my friend before either of us died. But also because…" he felt his throat constrict, and he swallowed, looking down. "Because I have been moved. Because you are everything that I've aimed to be in this life. And because I'm in love with you," at that he looked at her.

Her face was white…she took a step back. "What?"

"Please don't make me say it all again."

"How could you say those things?"

"Because they're true, and I couldn't not say them."

Her head fell.

"It would seem that you do not reciprocate," his voice cracked. "I …"

"Damn you, Jaime Lannister."

He began to panic. "Brienne…"

"No. You had your speech. Now you need to hear mine," hot tears welled her eyes, some spilling on her face. "Of course I reciprocate. But there is absolutely nothing that we can do about it."