"You came back to me," she said, her eyes brimming with lust and love and sweet relief. "I knew you wouldn't leave me… you need me, and I need you." Her voice was sensual, susurrus, but her breath was cool on Jaime's neck, aromatic with wine of the arbor. Her cold hands were on his chest, and his muscle coiled at her icy touch. "We are a part of one another…" she took his remaining hand and lead it down to touch her stomach. "And our child will be a part of us." Her immaculate, unblemished face was untouched by the winds of winter, yet she was so cold.
"You're… so cold, Cersei," Jaime said, reaching his hand up to run his hand over her cheekbone… but her face evaporated at his touch, his hand finding only the cold air. He panicked, and spun around. He was in her chambers, but they were dark, the hearth unlit. Jaime could see her fair head peeping out from under the silk-lined blanket, and frowned. He approached her sleeping figure, slowly as to not wake her. As he pulled back the coverlet, she screamed from her bed of blood, the sheets a Lannister crimson, her hair a Lannister gold.
"You did this," Cersei shrieked at him, a banshee. Jaime felt tears well, unbidden, behind his eyes.
"No, Cersei, I didn't… I couldn't let you… you conspired with Euron Greyjoy and didn't tell me!"
"You left me! Your other half, you left me to die!" she writhed in her blood, the stink of metal and flesh overwhelming Jaime's senses. "How could you leave me? I gave you everything! I loved you!"
Once, he thought, once you did. "You betrayed us all…" Jaime's words were stuck in his throat. "You didn't love…"
"You betrayed me! You LEFT ME!" she shrieked as she shot out of the bed, and her body was rotten, falling from the bone, her delicate, feminine hands stretched out as they took Jaime by the throat.
Her screaming reached a crescendo as Jaime shot up in his own bed of blood. Disoriented, he felt the dampness around him and the cold night air. He was shivering, and as his eyes adjusted he realised he was in the small guest chamber in the guest hall that he had been granted. Winterfell. Jaime took a shuddering breath, grounding himself.
He fell back onto the pallet mattress, wiping his face down. That was when only one name from that dream echoed in his head; Euron Greyjoy. Jaime's stomach dropped.
He leapt out of bed into the cold night air, and felt the sweat on his chest slowly harden into tiny icy droplets. He could not feel the cold right now- he had to warn the others. How had he forgotten such vital information?
Jaime was practically bare as he crossed the Winterfell training yards in the dead of night, his meagre candle teetering on its platform as he shook uncontrollably from the cold. His beard grew frosty. His boots were soaked through, and the fur he had taken with him from Kings Landing was thinning already.
He stumbled into Winterfell's great keep, sighing with relief as the warmth of the torches lining the walls emanated sweet heat. He knew that the bedchambers were not on the first story, like the Red Keep, so he took the winding stairs upwards. He finally came to what looked like the level with bedchambers. He had no clue which chamber was Tyrion's, which, to his amusement, he knew he shared with Davos Seaworth. He had no clue which was Jon Snow's and likely Daenerys's, or which one was Sansa's.
The largest of the chamber doors must be Snow's, he considered; Tyrion and Davos' would likely be the one beside that one. He lifted his hand to knock.
"Ser Jaime?"
Jaime turned and Brienne stood, in possibly the longest night shift he had ever seen, her large, guileless eyes staring at him in bewilderment, darkened by the torch's glow. Jaime laughed harshly. She never looked like she was expecting, nor glad, to see him. He could see vaguely the outline of her form through the thick shift, and felt his body respond unwillingly. He forced himself to look her in the eyes.
"You're awake?" he quipped, keeping his voice low. "Have you been busy with your Wildling? I have to be honest, I always had an inkling that bears were your type."
"Why are you here?" she replied, her voice equally as quiet.
"Thought I told you earlier. To fight the dead." Brienne didn't say anything. Jaime looked at her squarely. "I'm here right now because I just remembered some information that had escaped my mind," Jaime sighed. "Nothing to worry your honourable stubborn head about." Brienne flinched. Jaime turned back to the door.
"Information." Brienne paused. "Ser Jaime, Tormund Giantsbane won't harm me. I know that," she said. "I trust him."
Jaime huffed a laugh. "You trust him." He shrugged his shoulders facetiously. He could feel himself being petty, but he couldn't stop it. "Fine. Trust him. It's the end of the world, make the most of it. Want him to make you feel like a woman? Do that. I have more important matters on my mind at this point in time, Brienne. Go back to bed." His voice was sharp. He didn't understand why he was being so terse with her. You're not jealous, are you? He thought. No. That was ridiculous. He could have any woman in the world. Brienne didn't count.
Brienne shook her head in frustration. "You don't need to have concern for me. That is all I am telling you."
Jaime groaned. Had she forgotten the sapphires? The bearpit? "Well, clearly not. You dismissed me easily enough yesterday." He moved his stump in anger. Gods, he wished Bronn would give him his fucking hand back. Bloody humiliating.
"I dismissed you because I wanted to talk to Tormund." Brienne frowned at him, her broad face quizzical.
"Clearly!" he was growing tired. He felt his voice growing louder, and it echoed around the stone walls. He took a deep breath. "I know you can protect yourself. I wouldn't have sent you to protect the Stark girls otherwise, nor to parley with the Blackfish at the siege of Riverrun. I don't care who you spend your nights with, wench. I just care if they're worthy." Jaime coughed, turning back to the door yet again. "What I mean is, I think the daughter of Selwyn Tarth should… I have no idea what I'm saying, Brienne. Just… be careful."
"Should what?" she retorted, her own voice rising. He could feel Brienne's gaze burning into his back. "I don't spend my nights with Tormund, ser. But I could, if I wanted to." He could hear she was breathing heavily. "The nerve. Honestly, you spent your nights with…" she trailed off.
Jaime winced, but decided to ignore that. "Of course you could, if you wanted to," he said softly. He didn't turn to look at her. "I need to discuss some important information. This is not important." Jaime felt himself loosen slightly, relieved that she was not sharing her chambers with the wildling. "Goodnight, Brienne."
He felt her presence hesitate, and heard the heavy chamber door close behind her. Jaime knocked on Tyrion's chamber door.
Morning came, blue and grey with a chill that froze Jaime's bones. Dim morning light came in through the Great Hall's windows. Jaime, Tyrion, Jon Snow, Daenerys, Jorah Mormont and Davos Seaworth were crowded around the head table.
"The Golden Company?" said Jon. "You just… forgot to tell us about this?"
"Apologies. My mind was somewhat stuck on the army on the dead," said Jaime. Jon Snow smiled bleakly.
"Aye. I can understand that." He looked to Daenerys and Jorah. "You say they're from Essos?"
Jorah nodded. "Mercenary company. The largest sellsword company in Essos, even larger than the Second Sons," he said, looking at Daenerys. "I fought with them before pledging myself to Viserys, Khaleesi."
Daenerys nodded. "I remember you telling me that," she said, smiling at the memory. Jon stiffened slightly at the tender expression on her pretty face. Jaime caught eyes with Tyrion, whose eyes confirmed what he saw. "So. Your sister has ordered that insufferable Greyjoy uncle, who we saw turn tail back to Pyke, to ferry them across the Narrow Sea to take back, what, the four or five kingdoms she lost?" she asked Jaime pointedly.
Jaime nodded. Three kingdoms, at best, he remembered saying. "That is what she told me. That is partly why I left her. She is…" he felt Tyrion's eyes on him, "… she is not well. She wants all seven kingdoms, even if they are frozen over and she is the only one standing. She will not stop. She wants the dead…" Jaime swallowed, "… she wants the dead to destroy her enemies."
Tyrion smiled sadly at Jaime as he realised Jaime had lost all faith in their sister, Jaime's life-long lover. Jaime wished he would stop looking at him like that. I have changed, brother, he thought. I changed long ago.
Varys took a step forwards "My little birds told me there had been a naval battle off the coast of Tyrosh," he said. Jaime noticed his voice was stronger, less wispy than it had been in King's Landing. A farce? "Could it have been Euron Greyjoy's fleet? The Golden Company are currently, if my little birds are correct, in Myr."
Tyrion and Daenerys looked at one another. Jon sighed, putting a hand to his lips as he thought. "It might have been. But there are many fleets, aren't there, Ser Davos?"
Davos Seaworth nodded. "My old friend Salladhor Saan had a fleet almost as big as an Iron Islanders. But I'll admit, the timing and the position would be a remarkable coincidence," he said, his Flea Bottom accent so strong Jaime thought he'd hear him wrong.
Jon, Tyrion and Daenerys shared a glance. "We don't have time to worry about Cersei," said Jon. "Dany leaves tomorrow, and we all march North Easterly in a matter of days. We will send an envoy to Kings Landing, perhaps, to talk with Cersei. Tyrion told us of Bronn's experience with that… weapon which Cersei is in possession of.
Daenerys' face darkened. "And Bronn was the one who shot Drogon?"
"That doesn't matter at the moment, your grace," said Tyrion quickly. Daenerys had a look in her eyes similar to Cersei's, whenever Tommen, Joff or Myrcella had been in danger.
"Perhaps our envoy will be able to somehow obtain this weapon," continued Jon.
Jaime snorted. "She won't listen to anyone besides that cunt Qyburn. You can bury your dead with that idea. And how is this envoy supposed to go to Kings Landing, get the Scorpion without being seen, and leave without Cersei knowing and having them gutted by the Mountain? You might as well let the dead kill you here."
Jon's face was blank. "We will send an envoy."
Tyrion shook his head. "Jaime's right, Jon. She won't listen to anyone, and she has spies everywhere," he echoed his brother. "You don't know her like we do."
"No, I don't. But the decision is final. It's all we can do at this present time." He avoided Daenerys's questioning eyes, something that intrigued Jaime. "We must continue preparing. You are all dismissed."
Jaime was in shock. He pulled Tyrion aside as they left the hall. The cold air was bitingly, painfully cold. "How can they pull that off? Bronn said the Scorpion worked, yes, but we can't just go and take it from Cersei. She'd die before letting us take it."
Tyrion massaged the bridge of his nose, which had reddened in the cold. "I don't know, Jaime. I know a lot, but this, I do not. Maybe they'll send you," he suggested.
"I'd be dead as soon as I walked through the gates."
"I doubt it. She didn't kill us when we were there last."
"I'm not going back," Jaime said, his voice stern. "I'm never going back."
Tyrion walked ahead of Jaime in the direction of the courtyard, where Jaime had eventually begun to make himself useful with the honing of the people's weapons. "Moving on to bigger, better things, I gather?" he chuckled.
Jaime frowned. He didn't mean…? "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his face burning. "Bigger and better as in, helping save the country from destruction? Then yes, I am," he spat, matching Tyrion's pace.
"Do you think Bronn, Podrick and I, and basically half the country, haven't noticed the way you look at her? The way she looks at you? The Dragonpit, gods! Even Cersei knew. And you don't belong to our sweet sister anymore."
"Tyrion," Jaime warned, "I don't have any… I don't know what you're suggesting…"
"Oh, you just happen to hate Tormund Giantsbane as soon as you walk through the gates of Winterfell because he's a Wilding? You've never been one to discriminate based on differences, brother, look at us," he said. He smiled knowingly. "You ought to tell her before we leave to fight, before Giantsbane gets to her first. Our days are numbered, Jaime. I saw it between Jon Snow and Daenerys, I can see it between…"
"Why don't you tell Daenerys how you feel, then, Tyrion?" Jaime didn't want to talk about this. Tyrion's face fell. "Look at you. You, Mormont, Snow, following her around like ducklings. Our days are numbered," he mimicked.
Tyrion's face was as pale as the snow that fell into their darkening hair. "It's different."
"It's not bloody different." Jaime took a deep breath, catching Tyrion's eyes. "I'm sorry. That was unworthy."
Tyrion shook his head. "It's fine. Honestly." His eyes were sad as he looked at Jaime in wonder. "I just… don't get you. You have the one thing, the one thing I've had twice in my life, right in front of you. It's incredible, really. How oblivious you are. Both of you…" Tyrion's eyes wandered to behind Jaime. Jaime's forehead creased. "Well, well. This will be interesting."
Jaime dreaded turning around, because he knew what he would see. Who he would see. And it wasn't Brienne.
A tall boy, long, pale face and dark hair. He sat, covered in blankets, in a chair with wheels, and he caught Jaime's gaze.