Jaime watched in horror as Brienne lay motionless upon the ground. Her thick heavy cloak had fallen over her body like an enveloping blanket, protecting her from the chill of the Northern air. The breeze danced through her hair, spinning it like a bright golden halo around her head. For a moment Jaime was frozen, fearing the worst. He could conjure no logic from the scene before him. Even in the depths of battle, when the dead crawled around them, Brienne had not succumbed. It was only now, with all that had passed between them, did she show a single sign of weakness.
Jaime's world tumbled around him like the bricks that had all but kept him from returning to Brienne. For a moment, stunned and shocked, he could only stare ahead, terrified at the reasons for her weakness which plagued his mind. Then, he saw the shallow rise of her shoulder through the fur of her cape. Frantically Jaime dashed to Brienne's side, only to be halted within inches of reaching her by those who quickly gathered to see to the fallen knight.
"My lady!" Podrick gasped, falling to his knees beside Brienne.
Jaime followed the young man's lead and sank to the cold dirt upon which Brienne lay. He could not bare the inches which separated him from the woman he loved. He felt if he did not gather her in his arms, he might truly meet the end that had been already proclaimed of him. Timidly, Jaime reached for Brienne, his fingers trembling.
"Don't touch her!" Queen Sansa's voice shouted from beside him. Jaime's head spun to see her amidst the others on her knees guarding Brienne, their roles having seemingly interchanged themselves. Before Jaime's thoughts could form in his mind, he found himself shoved aside unceremoniously by The Queen in The North herself, as she called for the aid of Sandor Clegane.
Watching as if in another world, Jaime saw the immense hulking figure of The Hound looming over Brienne. Brienne had once beaten the man in single combat, Jaime recalled proudly. Now however, he feared what further damage the man could inflict upon her limp body. Ominously, Clegane stooped and lifted Brienne, still unconscious, into his powerful arms as if she were a rag doll.
"Be careful." Sansa ordered Clegane, her voice overcome with fear. Almost imperceptibly, she tucked Brienne's cloak around her body.
Sandor nodded gruffly. "I know." He answered in a loud gravely rasp. Although his manner was as rough as always, Jaime noticed the unaccustomed gentleness with which Sandor Clegane handled Brienne as he scooped her from the ground.
"Take Ser Brienne to her chambers." Sansa ordered, standing to rush behind Clegane. "Ser Podrick, fetch the Maester." She added, her nervous and worried tone in sharp contrast to the forceful manner in which she took charge of the situation, and those around her.
Slowly, Jaime rose to his feet, as Tyrion joined him. His gaze forlornly followed the group around Brienne before something innate within him pulled Jaime to his senses. Some unseen cord of connection tightened between himself and Brienne, and almost involuntarily, he followed her protectors. The few paces behind the others, at which he stayed, signified how unworthy he felt to be within the presence of the woman whose heart he had broken. The very same woman who held his own heart in her grasp.
In the corridor outside of Brienne's chamber door Jaime paced like a lion caged. He had barely caught a glimpse of her face as Queen Sansa had shepherded the still incapacitated warrior into the privacy of her quarters. Beside himself, Jaime wanted to shriek to the Heavens of the fear in his heart for his lady love. If Tyrion had not tried to speak calm into him, Jaime may well have beaten his stump to a bloody pulp upon the locked oak panel, until by force he gained admittance to the room where Brienne lay.
Sandor Clegane at last managed to bolt from the room as the door opened slightly to allow Winterfell's Maester to enter once Ser Podrick returned with the elderly robed healer. The Hound scowled grimly at the Kingslayer as he lurked along the shadowed edges of the passageway. The tall sturdy wall of a man had obviously been given orders not to allow anyone into the room, and stood imposingly by the door. For a moment Jaime weighed his chances of engaging Clegane in a brawl, and his odds of besting Brienne's guard. He then remembered, the weakness that still limited his movements. He would do Brienne no good as a broken heap strewn across the floor. Ser Podrick's mood was little better as he glowered at Jaime from his vantage point standing guard at the entrance to Brienne's chamber. It was clear the young knight would sooner draw his sword and fight to the death than to give Jaime the opportunity to make for the door.
It was Tyrion's voice which broke the heavy silence. "I thought you were dead." He remarked, studying Clegane with a skeptical air, and wondering why he and Sansa seemed on such amiable terms.
"Hmph." Sandor rolled his eyes in his usual smirk. "Funny thing about fire, a grown man can fall right through it." He described his plummet from the tower of the Red Keep in as much detail as he intended to impart. "Funny thing about Kings Landing, lots of underground rivers to break your fall." Sandor almost laughed at the irony which had led him back to the gates of Winterfell to pledge himself in the service Queen Sansa. As a concerned, former husband, Tyrion felt it was his duty to ensure Sansa's safety and security. He eyed The Hound disdainfull.
Lost in his own worries, Jaime ignored their posturing. The clamor of Tyrion's voice and the gruff syllables of Clegane's vagueness barely registered in Jaimes ears as his skin crawled over his bones. Every nerve in Jaime's body ached to join Brienne, to offer anything that would bring her comfort, and to present the woeful explanation of all he had done for her. He doubted any of it would ever sway her to forgive him. However, knowing she languished but a few paces away while he was powerless to see to her tore Jaime apart.
The pain in Jaime's distant expression did nothing to soften the judging glare in which Podrick had him trapped. The young man stood unmoving before Brienne's door, his hand tight around the hilt of his sword. "Clegane is not the only one who was supposed to be dead." Podrick's eyes narrowed into a cold threatening stare which he did not remove from Jaime even to blink.
The silence which descended upon the corridor held captive even the breath of those who stood awaiting word of Brienne's well-being. Tyrion regarded Sandor suspiciously. Podrick watched Jaime guardedly. Minutes may have passed, or hours, none there could say. It was a stillness at last broken by the opening of the door.
Followed by the Maester, Sansa emerged from the dim room. Jaime could read neither joy nor sadness upon her face. Tyrion knew the Queen's expression would give hint of neither. The entire history which she had suffered, had made Sansa a master of hiding her emotions. She only nodded at Podrick as he moved slightly, making room for her to pass. Once in the passageway, The Queen turned to The Maester and thanked him for his services, and his care of Brienne.
"See that I am summoned, should there be any change." The old man bid. "I shall check on her in a few hours." He stated before lowering his head respectfully and walking away.
Jaime wanted to shout at The Maester to reveal whatever it was that ailed Brienne. He was desperate to know what could be wrong. He forced the shout down his throat and stood instead unmoving before the Queen. "Please, Lady…" He began, as Sandor Clegane bristled a few paces away. "Your Grace." Jaime corrected himself. "I must know what caused Ser Brienne's to languish in the courtyard." He pleaded, his brow furrowed with dread.
Sansa's stoic gaze traveled over Jaime's mended bones. She recalled the pain through which Brienne had lived when he left Winterfell, and again when reports of his death reached the far North. "Shock, I supposed." She answered curtly, a look of disgust replacing the worry for her Sworn Sword. Sansa tried to thwart Jaime's attempt to corner her, but to no avail. He anticipated each direction she tried to turn.
"Ser Brienne of Tarth does not faint!" Jaime declared, his face reddening with the intensity of his argument. "Surely there is something wrong." His jaw steeled at the thought. "Please, Your Grace. I must know." He capitulated.
A long silent pause passed between them, in which Queen and Knight stared at each other, both unsure who had the stronger claim. It was clear each held a resolve equal to the other's passion. However, Sansa seemed to soften as she regarded him. Whether it was the way his tone fell to an anguished petition as he spoke, or the fear in his eye, Jaime was unsure. The Queen in the North seemed to know something he did not, a bit of knowledge which may have swayed her to his cause for the briefest of moments.
"It is not for me to say." Sansa spoke at last.
Jaime stepped back, breathing a disquieted sigh. "May I see her?" He begged.
"No." Sansa stood firm. "I dare say you are the last person she needs to see, Ser Jaime." The Queen answered harshly with a cold glare, and then motioned to Podrick as she left their company.
"Stand guard. Ser Podrick." She ordered. "No one except The Maester, myself, or my trusted maids is to enter Ser Brienne's chamber." She asserted. Podrick answered with a quick sharp bow.
Jaime watched Sansa walk slowly down the corridor, Clegane at her heels. The small shred of hope Jaime had held since the moment he realized he was yet among the living, felt as though it were slipping through his fingers.
—
For the remainder of that day, and into the night Jaime refused to venture from the corridor outside Brienne's chamber, undaunted and unmoved. Servants came and went on orders of The Queen with a tray of food and fresh linens. Winterfell's Maester returned late in the evening and disappeared within the darkened quarters, only to emerge without a word or a glance in Jaime's direction. Even Tyrion at last quitted his brother, sulking off in search of wine and whatever information he could discover regarding Sansa and The Hound. At last, only Podrick and Jaime remained in a tense stand-off before Brienne's door. They stood silent for hours.
"For what purpose have you returned, Ser?" Podrick finally broke the tension between them, his face a solid mask of hatred. "Should you not be grieving your sister?" He mocked.
Jaime met Pod's icy stare with a determined defense. "Look at me, Boy." He demanded, leaning closer. "Do you see a tear in my eye?" Jaime asked rhetorically. He stood inches from the young man whom he still considered a friend and knew he would strike Podrick Payne down if it meant gaining entrance to the sanctum where Brienne was hidden away.
Podrick studied Jaime with the intensity of one who would die for his cause. He nodded stiffly. "You give all the appearance of one wholly untouched by the loss you have suffered." He admitted.
"I have suffered no loss." Jaime corrected. "No part of me mourns that beast." His lips twisted in disgust. "The Hells can have Cersei." He declared.
Podrick felt his face burn red with rage. "Then why did you leave Ser Brienne?" He seethed bitterly. If he were not certain the act would be a greater torment to Brienne than the pain she had already suffered, he would have gladly removed Ser Jaime's head from his neck for breaking the heart of the woman who had taught him all he knew, the one person in the world he respected above all others. "Why did you forsake her? Why did you betray her?" Podrick indicted.
"To protect her." Jaime's indignation turned to solemn regret. "To protect her." He repeated. "I wanted nothing more than to give my life to keep her safe." Jaime affirmed. "I stand before you now by the shear grace of The Gods, and the hope that I may someday prove myself worthy to win back her affection." In that moment, his eyes did swell with the sting of tears but they were not for Cersei.
Podrick swallowed hard, considering Jaime's words. "It seems you very nearly made that sacrifice." He said, nodding at the bones beneath Jaime's flesh which he was sure had nearly all been shattered. The broken knight hoped it was a concession.
Jaime lowered his head. "I would suffer such a fate a thousand times to keep Brienne from harm." He swore.
Though he appeared to understand Jaime's explanation, Podrick seemed little moved by the sentiment. After a long moment of consideration, the young man's expression returned to an impassive scowl. "You did not find her the morning after your departure still standing in the courtyard, fixed upon the same spot where you abandoned her, nearly frozen to the bone, no doubt awaiting your return." Pod rebuked. "You did not hear Lady Brienne's sobs through this very door, nor see the light die in her eyes when word of your death was received." He launched the images of Brienne's torment at Jaime as if they were arrows shot from an archer's bow. The weapons inflicted their intended damage as they plunged into Jaime's heart.
"She loved you." Pod proclaimed in judgement. "She loves you still." His voice now carried more concern for Brienne than anger at Jaime.
With a hesitant step forward, Jaime continued his barrage, hoping to win over whatever part of the young man's loyalty might still run in his favor. "Please believe me, Podrick." He began, his voice shaking, his body quivering with hope. "All that I did, I did to protect her." Jaime declared.
Podrick stilled his anger for a moment to consider Ser Jaime's confession. The morning he discovered Ser Brienne half frozen staring at the open gate, he could scarce believe the man who professed such adoration of her could have been so cavalier with her emotions. Jaime had come to him after the battle, before the feast, and urged every fact of Lady Brienne's life to which Podrick was privileged from his lips. Her squire had then understood Ser Jaime's purpose was to gauge how big a threat The Wilding, Tormund Giantsbane, would be in his pursuit of the lady knight's affections. Confident in Jaime Lannister's intentions toward Brienne, Podrick had revealed all he knew, including the ill-fated ball her father had thrown for her as a girl, her dance with King Renly, and why she hated the word 'beautiful.' It was as if Podrick was giving Jaime his blessing. It brought him joy to see the closeness grow between the two who had quite clearly been so in love for so long, yet unable to act upon their feelings. He knew that during the weeks Ser Jaime and Ser Brienne were together they had discussed a life together. Something neither, given their pasts, could ever take lightly. Podrick had been certain of the love Jaime held for his lady master. In the moons that had passed, the deeds which had brought Brienne such heartache could not be reconciled with Podrick's knowledge of the man who had hurt Ser Brienne so profoundly. All that Ser Jaime now shared seemed undeniable, as did the pain and hope on the elder knight's face. It appeared Ser Jaime was an honorable man, after all.
Still, Podrick was uncertain if any argument would matter to Ser Brienne. "Will it make a difference now?" He asked Jaime, his stance and tone softening.
Jaime sighed at the monumental task before him. "I pray that is does. I pray that it makes all the difference." He confided, his chest heaving with despair. Podrick noticed that the stalwart warrior suddenly appeared weary and overwhelmed. "I can try." Jaime forced, hopefully. "Let me see her?" Jaime pleaded.
"The Queen has forbidden it." Podrick answered compassionately. "I cannot." He lowered his eyes. He had learned from Brienne that a knight's words was his bond. Even for Ser Jaime, he could not disobey an order from The Queen.
Jaime read the dilemma on Podrick's face. "If it were anything else, I would not ask this of you. I know what it means." Jaime was well aware the consequences his request could bring, however his need for Brienne outweighed even his knightly brotherhood. "Please, only for a few moments." He implored. "I need to know she is alright." Jaime's tone dropped with worry.
Before Podrick's decision was cast, the atmosphere of the corridor was disturbed by the rustling of woolen skirts. "If Ser Brienne's health is truly your concern, you'd be wise to leave her in peace." Queen Sansa interjected as she strode regally toward the two men, Sandor Clegane by her side, and Tyrion nowhere in sight.
Urgency flared in Jaime's eye. "Ser Brienne of Tarth is the strongest woman in Westeros." He lauded proudly. "She has collapsed for neither blood, nor battle, nor bear." He boasted, recalling her courage and bravery. "Surely there is something gravely wrong." He feared.
Sansa raised her chin haughtily. "You do not think that perhaps seeing a man returned from the dead would be shock enough to test anyone's constitution?' She challenged.
"Not hers." Jaime shot back, defiance in the rigid set of his jaw. Jaime and Sansa stood locked in a battle of wills, until both remembered that it was Brienne's well-being which mattered most to each of them.
"I beg you, Your Grace." Jaime relented at last. "What is wrong with her?" His voice was a shallow whisper as he finished. "It has been hours since she was taken weak, surely Ser Brienne is conscious by now." He asserted. "Please, let me speak with her." Jaime implored.
Sansa regarded Ser Jaime with what felt like sympathy. He was certain she sensed the love he held for Brienne and the fear for her safety. After a long pause, The Queen traded a knowing glance with Podrick. "She was alert and unharmed when last I sat with her." Sansa conceded.
Jaime's relieved sigh was audible. "Then let me talk to her. She knows I am here." He bargained. "I swear on my life I will do nothing to trouble her." He vowed.
Sansa could see the anguish he felt etched plainly on Jaime's face. "I believe that you did not leave Ser Brienne to reunite with your sister." Sansa stated cooly. "If that had been so, you would not be here." She deduced, studying Jaime for any sign of falsehood.
"Cersei is dead because of me." Jaime proclaimed. "I was the only one who could get close enough." He explained. "I made certain those stones took her life, so that she could never harm Brienne." Jaime assured The Queen in The North earnestly.
Sansa considered his actions and the events Jaime described. "You truly love Ser Brienne?" She asked solemnly, needing to be certain.
Jaime straightened and looked Sansa unflinchingly in the eye. "With all of my heart." He declared.
Sansa lowered her guard. "Very well." She conceded. "But I will not have her unsettled." She warned.
Nodding anxiously, Jaime agreed. "At the first sign of her discomfort I will leave, I swear it." He promised, hoping there would be no need.
"Ser Podrick." Sansa directed. "Allow Ser Jaime to enter." She commanded.
Humbly, Podrick followed Queen Sansa's command. He slowly moved aside and reached to turn the knob on the door that barred Jaime from Brienne. As if somehow understanding the gravity of the event and trying itself to aid the lovers, the heavy oak panel gave way without a sound. Jaime lowered his head in gratitude to Queen Sansa as he lightly stepped past her to enter the room. Silently, he crossed the threshold. The darkness inside enveloped him like arms welcoming an old friend home.
Podrick carefully shut the door behind Jaime and stared hesitantly at Sansa. "Do you think this a good idea, Your Grace?" He asked respectfully, his brow creased with worry.
The sigh which rose from Sansa's chest matched the grim uncertainty of Podrick's glare. "I hope so. She will need him." The Queen answered, her own stare following Jaime's path to Brienne.