"She shall hate me." Jaime voiced as he crouched sullenly against the hard back of the caravan bench. The jostling of the wagon creating a welcomed discomfort in his mended bones. Surely, he deserved no relief.
"Probably" Tyrion nodded impassively. "Was that not your purpose when you left her?" He questioned.
"I feared she would follow." Jaime answered darkly, his gaze distant, envisioning that dreadful night, and the one he had forsaken. "I could not have protected her, and seen my plan to its outcome." He lamented.
Tyrion leaned forward, his eyes narrowed, his interest piqued. "You have avoided the topic since I pulled you, barely breathing, from that pile of rubble." He stroked his beard hoping Jaime would at last divulge the reasons he left Winterfell and the woman he clearly loved. Until now, his brother had been stoically tight lipped about the whole dismal affair.
They were far from Kings Landing. Cersei was dead. The Realm was returning to a normal pattern of life under its' new King. Jaime had been restored to health. The Red Keep itself was being repaired for Brandon Stark, a wise and noble ruler. With each passing moment the cart in which they rode was speeding them farther from the scene of Jamie's reported demise, and closer to the place he had parted from Brienne. The Lannister brothers were headed North, to collect the heart Jaime had left there. Tyrion thought, perhaps now, his brother would confide in him.
With a serious tone, Tyrion trudged on. "When we spoke in Daenarys's camp, I naturally assumed that your course was to rescue our sister and smuggle her to safety." He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "However, when I found your sorry half-dead carcass fallen atop Cersei, you were far from any escape you could have possibly made." Tyrion described in bewilderment. "Perhaps now, you would not mind telling me just what in the Seven Hells you thought you were doing returning to the Capital amidst all that death and destruction?" He inquired.
Jaime shrank further in his seat, and answered Tyrion with a sardonic sneer. "I was trying to protect her." He whispered.
"Protect who? Cersei?" Tyrion scowled. "Well, if that was your aim you certainly did a piss poor job of it." He raised his brows disbelievingly toward the rounded ceiling of the wagon. "Not that her suffocation by falling bricks has troubled my heart." He mumbled. There had never been any love lost between Tyrion and Cersei, and the price she had laid upon his head finally destroyed any portion of family loyalty he ever felt for her.
"Gods No!" Jaime almost chuckled, before his expression grew serious and dire. "You heard him." He recalled.
"Heard him?" Tyrion repeated. "Heard who?" His brow furrowed. He was losing patients with Jaime's vagueness.
"That night in the tavern in Wintertown." Jaime muttered, lost in a dark and heavy memory.
"The tavern in Wintertown?" Tyrion echoed, annoyed at his redundancy, yet understanding exactly to what his brother referred. Jaime's description could have meant only one other person in the world. "Bronn?" Tyrion recognized, though he still could not fully fathom his brother's meaning. "What does Ser Bronn have to do with this?" He questioned. Jaime merely nodded, still lost in thought.
Jaime's words were spoken through a thousand miles and nearly six long painful moons. He had spent almost half a year healing from his injuries. The separation from Brienne was an eternal torment, one he prayed she would end once they reached their destination. The encounter with Bronn in that pitiful Northern tavern had set him upon the course of breaking Brienne's heart. The threat Bronn made against her life felt like it was leveled only yesterday. The desperation to keep Brienne safe and protected from Cersei's evil still churned violently in his gut.
Jaime's broken demeanor reminded Tyrion of the shell of a man he had found imprisoned by Targaryen troops when his brother was caught sneaking into Kings Landing. The Kingslayer appeared more a corpse than a 's mind replayed their conversation with the opportunistic sell sword. Once more he saw the arrow from Bronn's crossbow sail toward Jaime's head. He felt the brunt of the man's fist against his own face. Tyrion again knew the depth of Cersei's hatred upon realizing that she had sent Bronn to assassinate her own brothers. He was certain then there was nothing Cersei would not do for the power she craved. It was clear that Jaime had drawn the same conclusion. At that moment, so many moons ago, Jaime had far more to lose than just his life.
"You heard him, Tyrion." Jaime scowled. "Maybe a few of the Dragon Queen's top generals get picked off, one by one." Jaime rasped, repeating Bronn's warning. His eyes were almost black with hatred in the low light of the caravan.
Realization at last dawned in Tyrion's eyes. "Ser Brienne was one of those generals." He said plainly, understandingly.
"Cersei would have killed her." Jaime asserted resentfully, dread and fear still gnawing at his heart. "Either in some war she would have started with The North, or from her twisted revenge at having lost me." He seethed. "Mark my words, Brother. Brienne would have paid the price for my betrayal." Jaime said, his entire body shaking with certainty, and rage.
Tyrion regarded his brother, pondering the impossible choices Jaime had made. "You left Ser Brienne because you loved her." His tone held an air of admiration. "Your mission was to kill our sister. You meant to sacrifice your own life for the woman you truly love." Tyrion wondered if he could have made such a selfless choice. "You very nearly gave your life to keep Ser Brienne safe." He lauded, his gaze upon Jaime filled with pride.
Jaime looked away, unable to bear Tyrion's accolades. "My hope was to present Cersei's head at Brienne's feet." He admitted, his lips almost turning upward in a smile at the thought. "I wanted, with all my heart to return to her. Fall upon her mercy and beg Brienne to forgive me." He said sadly. "I would have spent my life groveling for one more chance." Jaime's voice broke with the tears he fought as he remembered the way Brienne wept on the night he left her standing in the frozen courtyard.
"Euron Greyjoy's blade changed everything." Jaime recalled ruefully. "As his sword tore into my ribs, I knew I would not leave The Keep alive." Jaime rubbed his side, feeling the raised scar through his tunic. "I knew I would never make it back to my darling Brienne." Jaime breathed heavily.
"And you could not take the chance that Cersei might live to exact her vengeance upon Ser Brienne." Tyrion finished Jaime's thoughts.
"So I dragged that bitch to the Hells myself." Jaime said proudly. "It was the only way." He proclaimed.
"You knew about Cersei's lie?" Tyrion questioned. "The Maesters examined every inch of her body when she was taken from rubble, before she was laid upon the pyre." Tyrion cleared his throat. "She carried no child. There was never any babe." He looked away feeling his news would be sad to Jaime's ears.
"Of course I knew there was no babe." Jaime replied without remorse. "It was just another lie to manipulate me, and I suppose Greyjoy as well." His face twisted in disgust. "Why do you think I left her when the dead invaded?" He asked, rhetorically. "I realized that very day when Cersei admitted to me that she had lied to Daenerys, and she had no intention of sending troops North, that no babe burgeoned in her womb." Jaime explained cooly. "No mother would take the chance of allowing those things into the world where she was supposedly soon to bring a child." He surmised. "So I kept her filthy secrets, even from you." Jaime admitted, recalling how he had assured Tyrion that the babe was real when they spoke of it at Winterfell. "I gave no hint of my discovery in the hopes that her falsehood might have later entrapped her." Jaime asserted.
"Without the prospect of a babe, there would be no reason to stay her execution, should Daenerys have captured her." Tyrion's logical mind at last connect all the pieces.
"Why do you think I stayed in the North with Brienne the whole time Cersei's reign and safety were threatened by Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons?" Jaime's said rhetorically. "Why do you think I could only manage to tear myself from Brienne's side and return to Kings Landing when Cersei's fleet attacked Daenerys's ships, and the tide had turned in her favor?" Jaime's stare bore a hole straight through Tyrion. He would have thought his brother, of all people, would have seen his motives.
Tyrion bolted to the edge of his seat. "You knew, the whole time." He charged. "Even when I spoke to you in Daenarys's camp, you knew your plan could cost your life?" He clenched his fists in anger. "Why did you not tell me?" He demanded.
"Would you have let me go?" Jaime smiled knowingly. "Would you have set me free?" He stared at his brother, already aware of the answer.
Tyrion relaxed and slid back against the hard seat back. Of course he would not have freed Jaime only to die. Laughter rippled up Tyrion's throat. He shook his head in relief and amusement. "I was right about one thing." He conceded.
"What was that?" Jaime laughed in response to Tyrion's infectious humor.
"There was one innocent you cared about." Tyrion answered, his eyes sparkling with glee.
Jaime sighed mournfully, imagining Brienne's icy glare when at last he revealed himself. "Not that she will ever speak to me again." He replied painfully.
"Nonsense." Tyrion encouraged. "Once you have explained your true purpose as you have here, I am sure Ser Brienne will be putty in your hands." He grinned suggestively. Jaime sighed and slouched gloomily in his seat.
"Come now." Tyrion smirked. "I doubt there are many women who could resists the charms of the great Jaime Lannister." He proclaimed.
Jaime drew a hopeful but ominous breath. "Brienne is not many women." He reminded,
Tyrion rolled his eyes. "That much is obvious." He answered with a nod.
"I beg your pardon!" Jaime bristled, protectively.
Throwing up his hands in mock surrender, Tyrion attempted to calm his brother's ire. "I simply meant there are not many lady knights in The Realm." He corrected. "And certainly no other who has won your heart." Tyrion explained. "I am sure she will see that all you did was out of love for her." He comforted. "You are alive, after all of that. There must be a reason." Tyrion declared, his face brightened by a beaming smile.
Jaime softened a bit at Tyrion's encouragement. "From your mouth to The Gods' ears, Brother." He hoped. Jaime knew Brienne better than anyone. He understood how much he had hurt her, and he realized the endeavor of winning her back would not be quite so easy.
As usual, Tyrion's name gained him admittance at the gates at Winterfell. The driver maneuvered the team carefully through the crowd that bustled within the courtyard. Jaime peered intently through the tiny opening left by the thick fabric panels which hung over the small windowed door of the caravan. Amid the artisans, servants, workers, and drilling soldiers, he searched desperately for any glimpse of Brienne. The wagon made a wide turn and brought the horses up next to the stables where they would be boarded. It was as they halted, and Jaime's moved to stare out of the few inches left exposed at the opposite pane, that at last he saw her.
Jaime's heart ceased its beating. The breath caught in his throat. Brienne stood but a few paces from the cart in which he hid. He longed to spring from the darkness of his shelter and prostrate himself before her. All that stopped him from such a display was the fear of her reaction. Jaime was certain she would rebuke him, he wondered if she might very well run him through with the blade he had given her. She had every right. He would level no blame on her for such a choice. So the man who was once the greatest knight in Westeros, cowered in fear of his lady love's disapproval.
Breathless, Jaime watched Brienne from the cover of the caravan wagon. Every word he hoped to utter in her presence disappeared from his thoughts. In their place was left only the glow of his love for her, and the vague hope that she might accept him. He could almost feel her power as she stood imposingly, reviewing her troops. The heavy fur cloak she wore was closed at the neck and hid her glorious form from his view. His body reacted to her, envisioning the tight sensual curves of her frame. The wonderland upon which his eyes and lips had feasted. The secret beneath her armor that only he knew. Jaime's heart yearned to burst in his chest at the memory of the passion they shared, and the thrill of the love that burned within him. Only the knowledge that his torture was to keep her safe, had made leaving her possible. Only the hope that someday she may forgive him kept him now alive. Gods, he loved her. Though she was completely unaware, his entire world was now in her hands.
Tyrion motioned for Jaime to stay where he had shrunken against the punishing boards, and swung the Caravan door wide. Bounding to the ground, he filled his lungs with the crisp cold air of the North. It was as if time stood still in the middle of the courtyard. Tyrion surveyed the sea of faces that stretched before him. Ser Podrick smiled in greeting from where he was poised by Brienne's side, always at the ready for her commands. A few yards away, Queen Sansa herself strode with several advisors. She looked up, at once curious. A warm smile found Sansa's face to see it was her former husband whom the cart held. Not far from The Queen's side, sneering and on guard, the scarred face of Sandor Clegane was a shocking and unexpected surprise. His death in battle against his brother, Ser Gregor, had been reported far and wide in the South. Apparently, Jaime was not the only one who denied The Gods their bounty that day.
Reverently, Tyrion stepped toward Brienne. He knew Jaime waited within the caravan, and feared that to tarry any longer could actually mean his brother's death, this time from dread and anticipation. Tyrion bowed, as Brienne looked over him with a sour expression and a raise brow. Swallowing hard against his nervousness, Tyrion cleared his throat, mustered his courage, and began to present Jaime's case.
"Ser Brienne." Tyrion greeted, his tone far too strained to appear casual.
"Lord Tyrion." Brienne answered, the worried line between her eyes which Jaime so enjoyed soothing with a kiss was already deepening in confusion.
There was no other course of action now than directness. Tyrion continued bravely. He hoped Jaime could bare just a few moments more. "Forgive the boldness on my part, but I have brought someone who wishes to speak with you." Tyrion announced, his eyes trailing toward the wagon.
Jaime heard his cue. There was only to step into the light and into Brienne's arms. Hopefully, he rose to his feet. Timidly, he emerged from the caravan to face her. The rare sun lit northern day could not warm him as much as finally staring into Brienne's deep blue eyes. However, what he found there was not the sweet reception he had hoped.
Brienne could only stare as the realization of what was occurring formed in her brain. For one brief moment the soft glimmer of joy burned in the depths of her glare. It was soon replaced by disorientation, and the shock of disbelief. Jaime was alive. He was there, standing only inches from her. She could reach out and touch him. He was real. But, he had left her. Jaime had forsaken her, and returned to his sister. He had left her to languish in the pain of a broken heart. The memory of the dreams he had left dying in Brienne's hands pummeled her like the bricks that were said to have taken Jaime's life. How could that ever be forgiven? Brienne's lip quivered, before she clenched her jaw to still it. Her confusion shattered Jaime, and tore his heart to shreds. It was clear she did not look upon him with trust any longer. The color drained from Brienne's face, leaving her as pale as a ghost. A sudden troubled grimace pained her expression, and for a moment Jaime thought she might be ill. He reached his hand to steady her.
"Brienne." He spoke, his voice filled with hope, and desperation, and fear.
Regarding him with eyes empty of any emotion he could discern, Brienne backed away from Jaime as if he were fire and she had been burned. Her countenance pleaded with him not to follow. Brienne shook her head, trying to wring him from her mind. All she could think to do was to run. Brienne willed her body to turn but her feet were barely able to move. Stiffly, she forced herself to flee, the world churning in a terrible cruel tempest. Jaime yearned to follow Brienne, to proclaim his love for her before all, but his legs had become useless. He was frozen upon the spot where he stood. He could only stare hopelessly as she walked away, leaving him in the same pain he had left her. Brienne made barely ten paces toward the safety of Winterfell's keep, when the world went dark and she collapsed, her limp body crumpling to the ground.