A/N: First of all, I'm really sorry for the delay in publishing this chapter. This year hasn't been the easiest for me so far. It got dark. It's brighter now, but still not bright enough. I have hope for a better tomorrow, though!

I would like to thank all of you, the Reviewers, because thoughts of you wishing to read my story lifted my spirits a lot of times. Biggest thanks go to Priestess of Groove from here and Bard_de_Bleu from ao3.

I'm not sure when I will be able to publish the next chapter - I won't have access to my computer for the next two weeks so it will probably come after Easter.

So, the "judgment day" has finally come! The ensemble scenes are the best to imagine and definitely not the easiest to write, but I still love them. It's the first time I've written so much Daenerys and Tyrion, hope you won't be disappointed with how it all turned out! Frankly, I'm quite satisfied with this chapter. I just need to beg your forgiveness for mistakes that could arise e.g. from my editing in the state of the almost asleep brain.

Enjoy!


V

Here We Stand

The creaking sound of the opening doors echoed in Jaime's ears alongside the loud beating of his heart. He hadn't thought it would be so difficult when he had been leaving King's Landing.

They entered the Great Hall with as much dignity as they only could gather, although the only thing Bronn cared about at the moment was to stay on his feet once he lost a steady support of the wall. He was painfully aware of the fact he was losing tension in his muscles and he was getting limp, but it was too late to turn back. Besides, his pride wouldn't let him do that now. He felt there were plenty of people watching them, but he couldn't care less about them. One step at a time, he thought, moving forward, not even trying to keep up with Jaime, just wishing to reach the place where he could finally fall onto the floor before his weakness did it for him.

Jaime, on the other hand, was dreadfully aware of all the people watching them, judging, detesting. He walked steadily, upright, with his head lifted, as he noticed the table at the far end of the chamber and Daenerys Targaryen sitting at it. Her expression was cold, powerful, calm, like a sleeping dragon just waiting to awaken and wreak havoc. To her left was Jon Snow, shooting them glances full of anger and hatred, distrust and resentment. The chair to her right remained empty as its supposed occupant stood before the table, his eyes wide and hopeful, his whole posture expressing excitement mixed with anxiety and fear as he smiled softly at his brother. Jaime only dared a brief eye contact and a slight nod towards Tyrion before focusing fully on the Mother of Dragons. On the Queen.

"Your Grace." He knelt before her on one knee, suspecting he would be forced to remain in this position throughout the entire meeting. His ribs groaned in protest, sending a wave of pain he had to ignore. He noticed there were no animals around, neither dragons nor direwolves, which helped greatly in keeping his mind focused.

Bronn, still fighting with himself to remain in the upright position, managed to reach the place where Jaime was kneeling and looked down at the floor. It invited him warmly to fall into its embraces one more time, sending him memories of the night before. Cursing the Maester and his mysterious mixture in his mind, he accepted the invitation, leaning on his healthy hand to lower himself down onto the stone floor. He knelt on both his knees, feeling he won't be able to remain like that for too long, his muscles weaker than ever before in his entire life. Sighing, he looked up to take in their surroundings for the first time.

Tyrion watched the newcomers uneasily, his heart beating as loudly as his brother's. He had no idea how this gathering will end. Once upon a time, he would have said he had known Daenerys well enough to predict her behavior, but right now such a conviction stood no longer. The current Daenerys resembled a statue made of ice with her eyes always aflame, playing the same tune as her fierce heart did. Once upon a time, he would have also hoped she would listen to his pleas and show mercy; now he dreaded she will not do such a thing. There might be no mercy for his brother and their common friend.

"Ser Jaime. Ser Bronn." Daenerys greeted the knights while Tyrion feverishly counted in his head how many reasons she had to hate them. Unfortunately, all too many was the only proper answer. "I heard you have some important information for me."

Jaime gazed at Bronn trying to catch his glance as they hadn't really established who will do all the talking. One look at the ex-sellsword was enough to know who will be responsible for speaking; his eyes were glistening morbidly and his gaze seemed to be all over the place.

"We do, indeed." Jaime's own voice sounded small and quiet in this big hostile chamber filled with enemies. But there were not only enemies, weren't there? People like Tyrion, Brienne, Podrick, Sansa, Varys. People he knew will listen. People he could focus on when narrating his story. And so he cleared his throat and started telling them his truth, the truth of Cersei's deception, of Euron Greyjoy, of the Golden Company, all the while looking straight at Daenerys, but in his mind speaking to the few people who were not his enemies.

But they all listened. And they listened intently, sometimes reacting quite vigorously. Especially the mention of the Golden Company created temporary confusion, although everyone remained quiet. Daenerys didn't move for an inch, her face expressionless, without ever breaking the story or an eye contact with Jaime. When he finally stopped speaking the silence that fell rang in their ears, ricocheting from the walls and hitting them again and again.

Bronn, having half slumbered through the story, decided he should have confirmed whatever had been said.

"Aye, that blonde cunt tricked you all," he muttered, giving up the fight with his convulsing hand and letting it do whatever it wanted.

Daenerys granted him a passing look before her eyes returned to Jaime.

"You thought your information will be of great benefit to our cause," she spoke, the power of her voice resembling an icy thunderstorm. Was she really a dragon and not a White Walker in disguise? In the bright-gray clothing, Jaime couldn't be quite sure. Maybe they were already on the other side of the war and just hadn't noticed it due to exhaustion. "Were you expecting a reward for your troubles?"

Her attitude didn't prophesy anything good; the tone of her voice would freeze their blood if they hadn't been expecting they would not be welcomed kindly.

"No." Tyrion looked at them with compassion, taking in the bruises and wounds on their faces, the dried blood on their clothes and Bronn's futile struggles to remain kneeling as the floor seemed to get closer to him with every passing minute. The younger Lannister thought Jaime had lied - they definitely hoped for a prize, the highest prize of a warm meal and a comfortable bed, and nothing more than that. "We just wished to pledge our swords to the living."

In the current circumstances, it seemed like a reward they had no right to ask for. Jaime hoped the Queen didn't regard it as a demand, but rather a polite request.

"To the living or to me?" Daenerys' brow went higher as she looked at him enquiringly.

Was it a tricky question? Could a wrong answer cost them their heads? Jaime hesitated, feeling Bronn's blank gaze on him. Maybe their survival depended on his next words, or maybe not; still, they will be of substantial significance. He had to weigh them carefully. Did they want to pledge their swords to the foreign Targaryen Queen who could be, for all he knew, a reincarnation of the Mad King? Or will they just fight for the living against the dead, without belonging to any party in particular?

Suddenly, he remembered what he had told Sansa Stark this morning. And just like that, he had his answer.

"To the living and to the North, whatever it could mean."

It was bold, Tyrion concluded as he stared intently at his Queen, waiting for her reaction. But Jaime had always been straightforward when it came to matters other than love, so maybe he finally gathered enough resistance to stop doing things he didn't want to do, stop keeping oaths to the people he didn't believe in. Did he believe in Sansa or the North though? Or maybe just in Sansa's private protector, the woman carrying his sword and staring intensely at him throughout the whole meeting? Tyrion didn't fool himself into thinking he might have something to do with Jaime's decisions. They were past this point now, sadly.

Brienne felt pride growing inside her; by pledging his sword to Sansa and not Queen Daenerys, Jaime honored their common oath to Catelyn Stark even if he wasn't fully aware of that. They will keep lady Catelyn's daughters safe, they will fight for them. And, what was also important, they will finally fight for the same people.

Sansa smiled to herself. Who would have thought she will be granted the loyalty of a Lannister knight?

"I concede that," Bronn murmured, trying to fasten his glassy eyes on Daenerys, but everything was too blurred and he had to satisfy with staring at the table in front of them. Before, he had thought he could say something like, "If you give me a castle, I'll pledge you everything you want"; now, however, there were no castles in his mind.

There was a spark in Daenerys' eyes which for a moment made Jaime wonder whether he hadn't just condemned them both to death out of sheer pride. Or maybe it was honor and honesty? Could it be this way for the Oathbreaker? Did he still even know what that meant? He desperately wished to turn around and look at Sansa and Brienne - who were standing somewhere behind him - to see what they were thinking, what effect his words had on them. He didn't dare to move, though.

The Queen apparently didn't regard his answer as an offense deserving the death sentence, as her gaze shifted towards Sansa and then came back to him, calm and non-threatening.

"Then let's be it," she said and stood up. Jon looked at her quizzingly and after a moment followed her example. "There are a few possible scenarios right now." She circled the table and came to a halt at the other side of it, leaning against the wooden surface. Now there were only a few feet of the floor dividing them. "In a majority of them you die."

This time Bronn lost the fight with his balance and fell backward, sitting on his heels. The Queen's words reached his ears with delay, but he got their meaning quite clearly. He couldn't bring himself to care.

The silence that fell in the Great Hall seemed to be an enemy of its own. Even if there was someone who would like to speak their mind, no one dared to utter a word; the only voice belonged to Daenerys and the only person who could answer her was Jaime. All in all, it was his judgment day.

Jaime felt some peculiar calmness spreading through him. If he was to die this day, he will do that knowing they fulfilled their task. Whatever will happen, he was ready. But Brienne knew she wasn't. Standing next to Sansa, she was sure lady Stark could hear her heart, so loudly it was beating. She didn't care about scolding it this time, her eyes fixed on the judge and the accused. It was an execution, wasn't it? Her worst fears seemed to come alive at this very moment.

"You might be telling the truth," Daenerys started, slowly walking along the table, back and forth. "Then your coming here would be noble and your honesty would be appreciated. However, I do not see a single reason why you, out of all people, would betray your Queen, your sister, your lover..." she stressed the last word; it almost felt like a slap to Jaime's cheek, "...and travel half the kingdom to reveal the truth to her enemies. You have served her for years, blindly following her orders, and now you expect me to believe you suddenly had a change of heart and decided to choose the right side? Or maybe you are naturally predisposed to treason, just like you betrayed my father all these years ago?"

She was asking questions, but didn't expect an answer. And so Jaime was just looking at her while trying to remain calm. There were a lot of other feelings boiling under the surface like anger, humiliation and disappointment, mostly with himself, but he managed to keep them at bay. He had no influence on what will happen, so the only thing he could do was sustaining the remains of dignity he still had left.

Brienne, on the other hand, felt herself fuming and didn't intend to subdue her anger. Ser Jaime is an honorable man, she wanted to shout; she wanted to make the Queen see he was trustworthy and that she would trust him with her own life. She was already taking a step forward when she felt Sansa's slim fingers tightening around her wrist. She looked at the other woman questioningly and saw in her young lady's eyes a silent plea for her not to interfere. Her heart ached at the conflict, but she remained silent, deciding to watch the horrible events as they unfolded before her for a little longer. There was still time to stop it.

Don't hurt him, she begged internally. Give him a chance to prove his honor.

"The truth is, I don't believe you." Daenerys stopped her slow march and looked at him, her gaze both fierce and dreadfully cold. Tyrion closed his eyes and released a sigh. He knew he had to speak up if he wished to see his brother alive on the morrow, but Daenerys wasn't finished; interrupting a dragon didn't sound like the best idea. Enraging her himself wouldn't get them anywhere. "And that was only the first possible scenario. In another one, it was all her wicked plan - to send you here with these crazy, insane accusations so we would believe you and let you be one of us. You would earn our trust and then either murder us in our sleep or tell her all the plans you would manage to discover so she could find Winterfell completely unprepared for her attack while she would know everything about our army."

Anger threatened to get hold of Jaime, but he put it out quickly. They will embrace their death sentences with dignity, without begging for their lives. And so he didn't take his eyes off her, his head lifted, his gaze steady. They will go out gracefully.

"Or she sent you here to be her eyes and ears without any particular plan and it was your creativity to invent how you will get in." There was a prolonged silence, after which she finished: "I have to apologize as I was wrong. In every possible scenario, you die."

Sansa, watching Tyrion slowly breaking, squeezed Brienne's wrist tighter. The last thing she needed was for her personal protector to do something stupid and she felt Brienne was quite close to doing just that - her whole body was tensed, her lower lip slightly shaking, her eyes filled with a wide variety of feelings.

"Give Tyrion a chance," Sansa whispered to Brienne. "If she doesn't listen to him, there is very little chance she will listen to anyone."

She saw Brienne fighting with herself, but she surrendered once more, deciding Sansa was right. There were more important players here than her; lord Tyrion, as Jaime's brother, definitely had priority over her. She fastened her gaze on the younger Lannister, mentally forcing him to act.

And he did, or at least tried to.

"My Queen..." Tyrion started, but Daenerys barely looked at him and, without letting him speak any further, continued her tirade, her voice powerful, her whole posture inducing respect and maybe even awe.

"Why should I trust anything you say?" she asked. "You are the Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, Man Without Honor. You betrayed and killed my father. You pushed an innocent child out the window with the intent of killing him. Maybe you even sent an assassin to finish the task for you. You wanted to kill me and my dragon the last time we clashed. Not to mention your relationship with your own sister that resulted in two illegitimate kings whose reigns destroyed this kingdom!" Her agitation seemed to reach its peak. She didn't say anything for a moment and when she spoke again her voice was much calmer. "Do you deny any of these crimes, Ser Jaime?"

This time she seemed to want an answer, or rather demanded it. Jaime didn't even blink as his voice sounded loud and clear in the enormous chamber.

"I deny sending the assassin. As for the rest, the responsibility is mine."

Brienne felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She hadn't thought she would ever wish to defend Jaime's incestuous relationship, but now she realized a Targaryen condemning it while clearly harboring some non-familial feelings towards said Targaryen's nephew was just a pure, outraging hypocrisy. She also had to stop herself from saying the responsibility hadn't been only his. What about Cersei? She really hoped he was done protecting his sister and it was only a remnant of old times.

Daenerys stared at Jaime for a moment, then looked at Bronn.

"And you..." Bronn blinked quickly, realizing someone was addressing him, "...you shot my dragon." Fire blazed in her eyes, fire that threatened to burn them all.

Bronn made an enormous effort of forcing the muscles of his neck to move and he slowly nodded. He didn't trust his vocal cords to produce a sound that would at least resemble a human voice.

Such a confirmation was sufficient for Daenerys' needs.

"Why would I trust a word coming out of your traitorous mouth?" Her voice was much quieter now. "Maybe I should have your heads delivered to your Queen instead?"

Jaime smirked bitterly.

"I'm sure she would be delighted." He imagined such a situation. What reaction would such a gift evoke in Cersei? Would she reflect on all those years they had spent together and shed a single tear? Would she show no care at all? Or maybe she truly would be satisfied? Although it would be interesting to find that out, he wasn't especially eager to accord his head for such a cause.

In the following seconds, three people acted in the same moment.

"Your Grace..." Tyrion started one more time but wasn't meant to finish yet again.

Brienne, dumbfounded by the calm and passive way Jaime had been taking all of the threats to his life, reached a conclusion he thought he deserved to die, specifically at the hands of a Targaryen. She couldn't let him do that, especially knowing he was completely mistaken. And she already had enough. Sansa felt her knight's hand slipping away from her grip as Brienne stepped forward and opened her mouth to speak, but didn't manage to as the sound of the doors being opened filled the Great Hall and someone's powerful voice came from the threshold.

"He's telling the truth."

Jaime turned around abruptly, for the first time since he had started his confession looking away from Daenerys, and felt his heart skip a beat when he recognized the owner of this voice. Sitting in his wheelchair in the open doors was no one else but Brandon Stark.

"I've seen it," the youngest Stark added looking at the Queen, then he lowered his eyes to Jaime. His face was expressionless; nonetheless, Jaime felt like his gaze looked deeply into the knight's soul, revealing every sin, reading every dark thought. Jaime could stare into the fire of the Dragon Queen's eyes without a single dread, but he wasn't able to withstand the gaze of the young man whose life he himself had ruined. He didn't want the boy to vouch for him; it was completely surreal. What did it even mean? I've seen it, Stark had said. What had he seen and how?

Suddenly there was a mess in Jaime's head. His heart was pounding, his throat was dry, his whole body was as sore as his mind was tired. Could they return to the moment when there had been a simple death threat he definitely was able to deal with?

Daenerys was silent for a moment, looking at the boy intently. Jaime had no idea what was going on; Stark's affirmation might make his case better in the Queen's eyes, but for him everything went darker. He remembered pushing the boy of only ten years of age out the window. He remembered the sound of the little body falling down from the tower. He remembered his own smug confidence when he had said the words the things I do for love.

There had been moments when he had truly hated himself, but not a single one of them was as intense as this one. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to focus on the situation at hand. He will talk to the boy, he will apologize, he will explain...

He almost wanted to laugh at his own stupidity. His apologies weren't worth a thing. And what was there to explain, really? That he had been a selfish bastard who had cared only about himself and his precious Cersei?

Feeling like he was getting swallowed by some dark abyss, he forced himself to open his eyes and focus on Daenerys once again. He had to fight hard to keep his thoughts on the right track; finally, he let cold emptiness take control over him as it seemed to be the only way to remain sane.

The Queen was looking at him with a grimace of distaste written all over her face. She despised him, as they all had always done. It was nothing new. Yet, there was also some peculiar kind of resignation in her eyes, like she knew what the boy had been talking about, like she had had to change her mind because of his words.

"Is there anything else you would like to share?" she asked Jaime, her voice still cold as ice, but no longer so threatening.

Jaime stared at her, exhausted both physically and mentally. There was something else, although he definitely didn't want to share it. Before, he had had no intention of ever doing so, but now he knew he basically had no choice. He felt it in two pairs of eyes, fastened on his back: one mesmerizingly blue, wishing to speak out for his nobility, hoping to be proud of his honesty, trusting he wouldn't let this become a secret hanging over her conscience; and the other ones, of a different, wolfish blueness, that for some unknown reasons seemed to know everything, see everything. And if the Stark boy was somehow aware of the past, however ridiculous that sounded, keeping anything behind might only ruin Jaime's already basically non-existent chances of survival. There was also a far-fetched idea that when Cersei eventually decided to discredit him completely, she would stop at nothing, even if it would entail revealing some information she herself would not like to share.

He looked briefly at Tyrion, wondering whether his brother knew or not. The younger Lannister frowned, not sure what this prolonged silence meant until he understood and the cold dread flooded him. He hadn't told Daenerys how his conversation with Cersei had gone. Back then, it hadn't seemed that important; right now, it was dreadfully so. He didn't even know why he hadn't told her the whole truth; it now felt like a betrayal. Was it some twisted desire to protect Cersei despite everything she had done? Or maybe an ill-conceived way to express his disappointment with Daenerys' involvement with Jon?

It was too late to delve into that now, though, as Jaime looked up at Daenerys and said, his voice resigned:

"She let you believe she will care for the realm because there is no one left for her to fight for apart for Westeros." He had to somehow explain why he will be telling them this "secret", but all the words seemed wrong, unnatural, unrealistic. Was he really disclosing his most private matters in front of the Mother of Dragons and all of her trusted advisors? "No one in her corner, no one to be a true lioness for, with all her children gone." He paused yet again. He could have said our children as well, considering it was a crime he had admitted to committing. "It's not true."

Oh, how low he had fallen...

One deep breath and the words somehow got forced out of his throat.

"She claims she's pregnant."

A shadow crossed over Daenerys' face while hushed whispers filled the chamber. Tyrion closed his eyes and lowered his head, which made Jaime realize his brother had known about it and hadn't shared this knowledge with his Queen. Brienne smiled sadly, proud of Jaime's courage.

"Claims?" Daenerys repeated, the shadow long gone now, yet there was something in her voice that betrayed she didn't regain full composure. Traces of sadness crept there, alongside resignation and disappointment. Who was she disappointed with? Tyrion or herself, for not being able to say the same? "You don't believe her?"

"I think you already noticed she isn't especially trustworthy," he answered bitterly. "I'm not certain it is true, but I'm more inclined to think it is than otherwise."

Tyrion didn't dare to look at Daenerys, whose wrath he would have to face in the nearest future, so he stared at Jaime, wondering how much it all had cost him. His thoughts went to his cursed family in its entirety: to his sister, who apparently was much more insane than he had ever given her credit for; to his brother, kneeling here in front of so many hostilely inclined people, baring his soul to the Queen he had tried to kill not so long ago, now humiliated and broken, but still strong enough to find the right way, which made Tyrion proud of his big brother and slightly ashamed of himself; to his late nephews and niece, and the one that might or might not exist, but either way won't get to see this wretched world; and finally, to himself, their lord father's murderer, the rotten apple of their family. They were cursed - the rains will weep o'er Casterly Rock and there will be no one to hear them.

"Anything else?" Daenerys asked indifferently, suddenly looking tired, like this conversation and its revelations had drained her out of energy to almost the same extent as it had done to Jaime. Bronn hadn't had much of it to begin with and now his partial contact with his body got even scarcer as the only thing he felt in possession of was his brain.

Jaime shook his head.

"No. There is nothing else."

Daenerys straightened up and apparently wanted to announce her final judgment without consulting it with anyone. Before Tyrion or Brienne could speak up to vouch for Jaime, surprisingly to everyone it was the other Stark present in the Great Hall who stepped forward and said: "If I may, your Grace."

Sansa immediately gathered everyone's attention. Jaime felt even heavier than before; never in his wildest dreams would he have come up with a scenario in which two wolves protected a lion, especially that they were the pups of the same wolf that had judged him so severely, condemning him to all those endless years of being nothing more than the Kingslayer.

Daenerys nodded her head and gestured to Sansa to come closer. Lady Stark made another step towards the Queen.

"We might have lost Cersei's forces, but thanks to Ser Jaime's attempts we might have gained lord Selwyn Tarth's men," she said, wishing it was something to be considered a mitigating circumstance.

Daenerys frowned, probably analyzing the new information and locating Tarth on a map of Westeros and the pages of history.

"Tarth?" she finally asked, looking down at Jaime in confusion. "Why the Sapphire Isle, out of so many possible houses which are stronger and more powerful?"

Sansa looked askance at Brienne, remembering the moment the two had shared before her very own eyes. As the majority of the attendants gazed at the only representative of house Tarth present in Winterfell, Brienne felt her cheeks burn. Her eyes found Jaime's as he dared a glance in her direction. For a split second she saw a silent plea in them; don't do anything stupid, they seemed to say. Then, he turned back to Daenerys and the moment was gone.

"I owe my life to lady Brienne," he said. It was only proper to try and save her father, he considered adding diplomatically, but decided against it. Only proper? What he had written in that letter had little to do with propriety and he wasn't going to lie just to sound better.

Daenerys looked slowly at Brienne; her eyes scrutinized the other woman carefully, lingering for a moment on the lions that gazed at her from the hilt of Brienne's sword. Then she returned to glaring superiorly at the man still kneeling in front of her while Sansa retreated to her previous location, her fingers once again encircling Brienne's wrist.

"I believe I have heard enough. I am able to put your past behind me and let you fight with us. But..." The Queen hung her voice for a moment. What was it that Tyrion had used to say? That whatever comes before a "but" is unimportant? "It wasn't only me you endangered during our previous encounter. You also hurt my dragon, my child. If he decides to forgive you, you may stay."

Jaime blinked, Tyrion's head snapped abruptly towards Daenerys, Brienne's eyes went as wide as it was only possible.

"You want us to apologize to your dragon?" Jaime repeated quietly. The word "dragon" reached Bronn's ears and if he only could, he would burst out laughing at the stupidity of it all, turn around and ride as far away from here as his horse would stand. He realized that even if he was physically capable of doing just that, he didn't have a horse any longer. It only made him want to laugh some more.

"Yes." Daenerys' eyes bore a shade of cold satisfaction. "We will see if he decides to let your crimes against him pass."

While many people were looking at her with horror, Jaime also felt like laughing. He hadn't been killed by Cersei the Mad Queen but was apparently going to be burned alive by the pet of the Mad King's daughter. What an irony.

Burn them all, he heard the words echoing in his mind. Burn them all. He saw the fields of the Reach with the burning corpses of his soldiers scattered all around it; he saw the beast in front of him, its orange-red eyes burning with the same fire as its breath did. He felt the heat on his face, an image of the creature from his worst nightmares so badly alive, so vivid in his head.

"Your Grace..." Tyrion tried for the third time; Daenerys didn't even look at him, her eyes blazing as she smiled coldly at her victims.

"Be warned, Drogon is not an especially forgiving creature. He might not be in the right mood for conversations."

Despite how mad she sounded at the moment, Jaime thought she still didn't seem even half as insane as Cersei. The Mother of Dragons only wanted to exact revenge on those who had wronged her or her family; it was weirdly understandable. These realizations made him even more bitter towards his past self's actions and choices. Maybe if he had seen the truth earlier, he wouldn't be in such a position right now. But it was too late now to wonder what could have been. Instead, he just looked calmly at Daenerys and bowed his head.

"As you wish, your Grace." Even though meeting the very beast that haunted his dreams - alongside his sister - and sometimes poisoned his days as well, was the last thing he would ever desire, his voice didn't fail him. On the contrary, it helped him regain some dignity - if he was to go meet his end, he will do it with his head held high.

Brienne stood paralyzed, frozen to the spot, feeling her blood run cold. How could anyone ask for forgiveness of the dragon they lately had tried to assassinate, along with its mother? How could anyone ask for forgiveness of any dragon in general? It definitely bordered on the impossible.

She watched wide-eyed as the Queen just gazed at Jaime for a moment, like she was assessing his courage, until finally she nodded her head indicating the meeting was over and the matter was closed. Brienne felt her pulse in her ears as a wave of anger rushed through her. Before Sansa could do anything to stop her she stepped forward.

"I beg your pardon, your Grace," she said firmly, her blood now boiling. Jaime cursed her internally, turning his head towards her. Hadn't he asked her not to do that, not to sacrifice her good name for his sake? "But this is..." For a moment she wanted to say insane; she didn't serve Daenerys, she wasn't afraid of the Queen's rage, she could speak her mind freely. But for Sansa's sake, she chose more balanced words. "...beyond all reason."

Daenerys looked at her with polite disinterest, while Jaime fastened his gaze on her, gaze she deliberately avoided. She knew what his eyes would say and she wasn't going to have any of that.

"This is not a death sentence," the Queen answered calmly. "This is a chance."

"This is a death sentence," Brienne protested. She didn't care what anyone was thinking about her this very moment; saving Jaime was the only thing that mattered. She would never forgive herself if she didn't at least try to rescue him. "Ser Jaime is a good man. Yes, he has committed some immoral acts, but so have most of the people in this chamber. He has changed. He knows honor and will fight for you if you only let him."

Jaime closed his eyes, wishing to turn back the time. He begged her in his mind to stop, to come to her senses, but no, she had to be her usual stubborn self. If there would be any consequences for her resulting from all this... he will never forgive himself.

"I am giving him a chance and it is already far more than I should do." Daenerys' voice didn't sound as polite or calm now as it had had moments before. It wasn't a threat yet, but she was clearly losing her patience. "If Ser Jaime indeed has good intentions, Drogon will feel it and spare his life. If not, it will be entirely his fault. I do not wish to hear any other objections, is that understood?"

Brienne breathed heavily, still feeling anger flowing through her veins. She looked at Jaime finally; as their eyes met he mouthed "Please, don't", his eyes begging for her to cease what she was doing. Then, her gaze swept the faces of the people standing near the Queen - they were all carrying the same expression of uncertainty. Did they simply accept their Queen burning her enemies alive? Was it a norm at a Targaryen's court?

Her eyes returned to Jaime. He shook his head the way only she could see it. She had to surrender, hoping Daenerys didn't lie and Drogon really was intelligent enough to understand.

"Yes, your Grace," she said regretfully but with respect and withdrew to her place next to Sansa. It was probably wise to add something like I apologize for the interruption, but it would also be a lie and she was not a liar. She definitely wasn't sorry for defending Jaime, and she wasn't going to apologize for something she considered right.

She felt lady Stark gripping her hand comfortingly; looking at Sansa she saw only compassion and understanding in the younger woman's eyes. Brienne managed to smile at Sansa, glad her lady didn't feel offended by her behavior, yet she craved she could do something more than just speaking vain words that hadn't changed a thing. She desperately wished to change the way the events had unfolded while having the painful knowledge she possessed no power to influence them. How could she let Jaime go so soon after getting him back? She had no desire to find it out, but the only thing she could do right now was to helplessly observe his burial march.

"Ser Jorah will show you the way," Daenerys said to Jaime and looked at an older knight standing near the table.

"Of course, Khaleesi." Jorah Mormont bowed his head respectfully.

"You may go now."

"Your Grace." Jaime bowed his head one last time, trying to show as much respect as it was only possible in his current situation. The old Jaime inside him wanted to mock the Queen or sarcastically comment on the absurdity of his so-called task, but the old Jaime no longer had a voice. The new one, even if his life was going to be short, just wished to obey the order and get the hell out of this wretched chamber.

It was once again silent in the Great Hall as he got back onto his feet, his legs weak, his knee hurting; he wasn't going to show them that, though, and just turned to Bronn whose only movement comprised turning his head towards his companion. In his eyes, Jaime saw a reflection of the terrible weakness the ex-sellsword was experiencing, and so the Lannister knight had to defeat his own fatigue in order to help Bronn up. To his big surprise and unexpected gratitude, he found Podrick already standing beside Bronn. The squire wore a sad smile and regret was written in his eyes; Jaime didn't want pity, so he just focused on Bronn who limply let them grab him by his shoulders and get him up. Ser Jorah Mormont moved from the table and approached them, gesturing to them to leave the Great Hall. Jaime beckoned to Pod and they started a long journey out of this dreadful chamber, where the last hour was hanging heavily over the knight's head, feeling like a lifetime of experience. Bronn seemed heavy, so heavy, even though it was probably Pod who took more of the ex-sellsword's weight on him.

To detach himself from the intrusive attack of all the stares around him, Jaime recalled his waking up this morning, one of the last good memories. The warmth. A comfortable sensation of home. And a pair of beautiful blue eyes.

He dared a quick glance sideways until his eyes found Brienne. She was staring at him wide-eyed, terror and apology written in her blue irises. He couldn't convey that there was nothing she should have been sorry for or look at her seeing her in pain, so he quickly turned his gaze away, concentrating on the big doors far ahead.

He still felt the pair of these big blue eyes burning into his back the whole journey out of the Great Hall.


Although they should have already got used to it, the silence that fell after the doors closed was ringing in their ears almost to the point of being painful. Everyone seemed to be staring at someone with mixed feelings, yet almost no one dared to look at the Queen. Almost.

Tyrion, after having powerlessly watched his brother go to meet his death, felt the hot blood running to his face. Before, he hadn't been able to break through; some kind of a blockage had grown inside him crippling his abilities. This blockage was called self-doubt.

He had been feeling less and less like himself ever since he had crossed the Narrow Sea with Daenerys. Every decision he had made was wrong, every choice resulted in bad consequences. The feeling of being deprived of any usefulness led to the tragic disaster of the last hour and some kind of defiance that had apparently been building inside him finally rose to the surface. Something clicked in him and the tame broke, anger flooding him in an instant.

He abruptly turned towards Daenerys, unable to hide his rage and disappointment nor wishing to do so any longer.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, hurt hearable in his voice. "Why..."

She turned to him slowly, her eyes cold and disapproving. He didn't intend to surrender.

"If they want to prove their worth, they will do what I asked of them. And they will be granted a place in my army, which is a generous offer considering their past. Although..." She let her voice hang in the air for a moment and Tyrion knew what will come next. "In the last minutes, I received more truth from your brother, the Man Without Honor, than from you, my trusted advisor, in the last few weeks. Because you knew, didn't you?"

He decided to care for his own survival later. He had already failed Jaime enough times.

"So now you are going to punish him for all this honesty?" He got lost in his anger, almost forgetting who he was speaking to. "That's what it came to? You'll burn people alive out of sheer pleasure, just like your father was doing before you?"

If silence could get any louder it became just like that at the moment. Tyrion realized he had crossed the line as Daenerys' eyes transformed from freezing cold into ablaze. The atmosphere was so tense no one else dared to breathe, let alone speak, even though a lot of people thought exactly the same thing.

"I am not burning anyone alive, I repeat, I am giving them a choice and an opportunity to show their bravery." For a moment she was just looking at him, probably making a final judgment in her mind, this time concerning the second Lannister. "You are the Hand of the Queen. I do not have any desire to change it. But, conceal another important information or compare me to my father one more time and you might be the first in line."

There was something in her voice that made both Jon and Tyrion wonder whether she herself wasn't afraid of turning into her father. She knew she needed people like them around, the only ones who weren't afraid to tell her the truth, or rather what they believed to be the truth.

Tyrion understood, even though he was still angry at her and himself. It was neither the time nor the place to discuss his issues with her reign, so he decided to take a step back for now. He looked down at the floor and answered much quieter than before: "I understand, your Grace. And answering your question... yes, I knew about it. I didn't consider it important enough to bother you. I... There were more significant matters at hand and I forgot about it."

He couldn't stop himself from looking at Jon. Snow understood the meaning behind Tyrion's gaze and, embarrassed, turned his eyes away.

Daenerys sighed, once again seeming tired.

"If she's going to be as protective of her unborn child as a lioness is of her cub, then it was important," she said with resignation, passing her hand over her eyes in a weary gesture. "The next time you are in possession of some information, let me decide whether it is important."

"Of course."

Silence, once again. Brienne wasn't even sure what was happening anymore. As the events had gone on they had seemed to be less and less real, like she woke up in a peculiar nightmare of some kind. Her thoughts traveled to Jaime. Could he have met the dragon already? Could he have survived? She knew it was way too early for him to reach Drogon, yet she couldn't stop herself from imagining the "apology".

Tyrion, scorned like a child, felt completely out of place. He had been aware of the value of such an information and he realized now the decision not to disclose it had been his own conscious one, despite having tried to convince himself otherwise. He hated Cersei with his whole being, yet...

...yet he couldn't have betrayed his siblings' possible child. It was more important than Daenerys or the power play. It was about the family, or rather what was left of it.

It was Jon who finally decided to destroy the silence. He stepped towards Daenerys and was just opening his mouth to speak when some loud steps came from the corridor and in the next moment the doors opened with a loud crack. Jon's eyes widened as two panting, exhausted people burst into the chamber.

"What happened?" he asked, anxiously awaiting an answer.

He suspected it couldn't be anything good. It wasn't a day of positive news, after all.