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Chapter Text

For almost twenty years, Jaime had secretly hoped that the Red Keep would never again delve back into the sullen environment and dour atmosphere from King Aerys II reign, but it had, and Jaime knew why. All he had to was look out the window of his chambers, and see the gaping crater where the once opulent Great Sept of Baelor once stood atop Visenya's Hill. The sight of the demolished holy established was enough to send Jaime into a fit of rage but more often than not, it only left him in a state of almost catatonic numbness. He was unable to go away inside anymore and was forced to relive that horrifying day all over again.

Having finally rode hard up the Hill of Rhaenys, Jaimed slowed his galloping steed to a trot and finally to a stop as the commanders of his cavalry called for a company halt. He could gape as he took in the ghastly view from above, saw the smoking ruins of where the Sept of Baelor was supposed to be. He urged his steed forward and rode ahead of his army, with only Ser Bronn by his side through the unusually empty streets. Finally he turned a corner and saw it true: the Sept had been reduced to rubble, with small fires still burning in some parts, few smallfolk running around and carrying off the injured and the unmistakable odor of wildfire in the air. Jaime immediately knew what had happened here.

When his men finally joined him on the scene, Jaime arranged for Ser Addam and a small group men to help put out the rest of the fires and calm the smallfolk down (Tommen didn't need another riot to deal with) and for Bronn to lead the rest of the army to the Red Keep so they could finally rest. He jumped down from his horse and took in the horrific scene, up close and personal. He walked up to the one of the commoners, a crying old crone and asked her what had happened here.

"Was making my way up the Street of Steel when I saw it blow, a big great explosion it was. But before that, the streets were too crowded because all the lords and ladies were making their way in there and now they're all dead. The Sparrows, the lords and ladies, the Rose Queen and her lord Father. Maybe a few lions too," she sniffled out. "Whoever was out on this street either died or they're half way dead by now."

Her words registered within him instantly and Jaime's stomach lurched and with a dawning horror he realized what today was. It was the day of Cersei and Margaery's trial with the High Sparrow and his Faith Militant. All of King's Landing nobility would also attend as a courtesy. And all that's left of them now is ashes, Jaime thought and fought the urge to vomit right there on the street. Remnants of wildfire from Aerys' time were still around and were clearly concentrated underneath the Sept of Baelor. But since the sack of the city and the Battle of Blackwater Bay, there hadn't been a true incident with wildfire in years. Nothing could've caused it to accidentally blow, it would've had to be purposefully ignited by someone. Before Jaime could ponder it any further, he heard one toll of the great bells, and then another. 

"Ser Jaime," Addam called to his attention and Jaime turned to him. "The bells... from the Red Keep."

"Continue to help the people as much as you can, I must convene with the King at once," Jaime hastily ordered to his cousin and climbed back on his horse. He rode at a breakneck speed down the uncharacteristically empty streets towards the castle.

The sentries outside the walls recognized him and let him without any questions. Unbidden, Jaime found himself praying to the Father and the Mother to find Cersei here, alive and safe, and Tommen too. He gave his horse to a stable-hand and made his way into the castle, dully registering Bronn and the rest of his men. 

The keep was deathly quiet and Jaime made his to way to Maegor's Holdfast, where he hoped to find his sweet sister and his son, but stopped short when he saw a procession leading into the Great Hall. The halls doors closed before he could enter so he went up to the second level dais and saw it all. A crowd of mostly commonfolk had gathered on both sides and in the middle was Cersei, dressed in a lavish black gown, somberly yet confidently walking up to the empty Iron Throne with the Kingsguard falling in line behind her. She stood in front the throne and Qyburn crept up to her, placed a crown upon her head, and stepped back to the side. Tommen was nowhere insight and neither was Margaery or Uncle Kevan, Jaime grimly noticed.

"I now proclaim Cersei of the House Lannister, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms," Qyburn's high voice resounded as Cersei took a seat down. As if she could sense him, she promptly looked to her left and met Jaime's hard stare with one of her own. By just looking at her face, all of Jaime's recent questions had been answered. A former Queen Mother adorned in mourning clothes crowning herself with the King nowhere to be seen could only mean...

"Long may she reign," Qyburn declared and the bleak crowd echoed him. Tommen is dead, the thought rang hollowly through Jaime's head as he watched the few highborn present approach the Iron Throne to swear fealty and wish the queen a long reign. All of our children are dead... and for what? Jaime couldn't go away inside this time and had to accept and live in the bitter truth now. He numbly left the dais to do his duty as Lord Lannister, as the Warden of the West, as the queen's brother, and as his sister's lover. It seemed like it was the only thing Jaime could ever do.

Jaime approached the Iron Throne, never breaking eye contact with Cersei until he curtly bowed to her. "May Her Grace have a long and prosperous reign," Jaime stiffly announced. "Casterly Rock and the Westerlands are yours."

A barely there smirk grew on his proud twin's face, the face that looked so much like his. "Thank you my lord, for your loyalty to the crown and to House Lannister. We must meet later and discuss your successful siege of Riverrun and.... other matters." The obvious was left unsaid and Jaime nodded his agreement and hurriedly made his way out of there.

That had been exactly one moon ago and ever since then, he purposefully kept his distance from Cersei and only interacted with her when it was absolutely necessary. That first night back, Jaime learned the truth more or less from Cersei. She came to him first for once and told him that the Great Sept of Baelor had unfortunately erupted due to wildfire, unknowingly yet conveniently placed underneath, and that Margaery Tyrell, her lord father, her brother, their Uncle Kevan had perished along with the High Sparrow, all his zealots and everyone else inside. Impassively, she then explained that Tommen had viewed it all from his room, unable to bear the pain of his wife and in laws dying, decided to take his own life by leaping off his balcony to his death. Jaime processed her words with her detached demeanor then asked her why she and Tommen weren't in the Sept with the rest of them, for it was her trial after all. Cersei brushed off his question with a flimsy answer of her allegedly feeling unwell all morning and had just begun to get ready when the Sept blew. Before she took her leave of him, she told him of the arrangement for Tommen's body to be cremated and his ashes to be spread over the Sept on the morrow, and that Jaime should attend as the king's uncle.

After his son's farce of a funeral, Jaime was engaged with the dispersal of the Lannister army, sending half of them back to the Westerlands and keeping the other half in King's Landing to aid the City Watch and further protect the Red Keep. He purposefully sent his best bannermen, the soldiers and knights from Houses Marbrand, Lydden, Brax and Farman, away so they could be spared from Cersei's uses, although he'd miss the company of his cousin Ser Addam. As children they were as close as brothers and one day when he had accompanied Addam to Tobho Mott's shop, Jaime confessed to him his fears of his sister and what he thinks actually happened the day they came back from the Riverlands. Addam hesitantly agreed with him and subsequently comforted him when Jaime suddenly got choked up over Tommen's death. However, there had been no time to properly mourn his son anyways because following Cersei's coronation, intriguing news from all over Westeros and beyond had arrived and took up a good portion of Jaime's thoughts.

First came the news from the Riverlands, of Walder Frey and all his male kin having been poisoned by a mysterious assassin, leaving no trace of themselves, and the remaining riverlords were assembling to choose a new Lord Paramount of the Trident. Qyburn, Cersei's slimy poor excuse of a Hand, also reported that they were most likely to choose Lord Edmure Tully, the former captive lord who the Freys and Lannisters had used to end the siege of Riverrun. Jaime noted Cersei's annoyed response to the report but her reaction was tame compared to the ensuing news after. A few days later, news from the North detailed an immense battle between Houses Bolton, Karstark and Umber against House Stark with minor bannermen, wildlings and the Knights of Vale with the Starks being victorious. The Battle of the Bastards, it was called because Roose Bolton and Ned Stark's bastards faced off, resulted in the reclaiming of Winterfell and the Stark bastard crowned King in the North by the lords. Cersei's furious reaction was heard through the Red Keep and she consulted him and Qyburn on the matter. Jaime had barely been able to convince her out of the idea of a Northern invasion and instead advised her to write the Starks a cautionary letter instructing them to bend the knee and the crown will forgive them of their treasonous insolence. "They may not bend the knee but they'll remember the last time we went to war with them and the history books will say that House Lannister was the first to act diplomatically," Jaime pointed out to her, with the frightening thought of being remembered as destitute of honor in the years to come.

Unbidden, his thoughts went to Brienne of Tarth, his lady knight somewhat of a friend who he had last seen at Riverrun, the clear vision of her stubbornness and guileless blue eyes flashing in his mind. They waved goodbye to each other as she rowed up the river with her squire Podrick in the cover of night, back to her Lady Sansa, to the danger of the Battle of the Bastards. He wondered if she had made it back in time to participate in the battle and if she did, how she fared in it? The sudden horrifying image of the wench lying dead in the snow went through his head and Jaime had to remind himself of the unlikely timing, with Brienne arriving back North after the battle to see the crowning of the bastard king and not before.

The most recent news was the most appalling of all: from across the Narrow Sea, Daenerys Targaryen was sailing from Essos with Unsullied and Dothraki armies and her three fully grown dragons to conquer and claim the Iron Throne. What wasn't shocking was the news that Dorne and Highgarden had declared for the Targaryen girl, as Jaime figured that Ellaria Sand and Olenna Tyrell would rather take out their combined revenge on Cersei through the Dragon Queen than attempting it alone. Her eventual arrival at Dragonstone, the island closest to King's Landing made Jaime especially worried of the possibility of waking up and seeing the city under siege or worse, set aflame by dragonfire. On this day, Jaime met with the Gold Cloaks and the Lannister knights with them to tighten up security within the city and to prepare the city for a possible siege and afterwards made his way to Cersei to let her know of the plans.

Stepping into the council chambers, Jaime walked past the empty table and halted when he saw his sister standing in the open courtyard beside it, over a painted map of Westeros. Confused, he strolled in and made eye contact with the artisan on the floor, nodding at him so he could promptly leave.

"What is this?" Jaime finally asked.

"It's what we've been waiting for our entire lives," Cersei began and surveyed the work below her. "It's what father trained us for, whether he knew it or not." We? 

"He knew it. Made me memorize every damn city, town, forest, lake and mountain," Jaime lamented bitterly.

"It's ours now, we just have to take it," she replied and Jaime tilted his head in question. Surely, she can't be serious, he thought as she finally turned around to face him. "You've been quiet since you came home. You're angry with me."

She said it as a statement, not a question and even though he knew it was true, he deflected. "No, not angry."

"You're afraid of me." Again, she stated instead of inquiring and Jaime steeled himself before answering. "Should I be?"

With that, Cersei paused momentarily, looked away and then continued. "Daenerys Targaryen has chosen Tyrion to be her Hand. Right now they're sailing across the Narrow Sea, hoping to take back her father's throne." She paced around and met his eyes again with a sardonic smirk on her face. "Our little brother, the one you love so much, the one you set free, the one who murdered our father and our firstborn son. Now he stands beside our enemies and gives them counsel... He's out there somewhere at the head of an armada. Where will they land?"

"Dragonstone," Jaime said, fighting down the urge to argue at her presumptuous words. "They have deep-water ports for the ships. Stannis left the castle unoccupied and that's where she was born."

"Enemies to the east. Enemies to the south," Cersei declared with displeasure. "Ellaria Sand and her brood of bitches. Enemies to the west, Olenna the old cunt. Another traitor."

Maybe they wouldn't have been traitors if it weren't for you, Jaime thought darkly and watched as she prowled along the map. "Enemies to the north. Ned Stark's bastard has been named King in the North and that murdering whore Sansa stands beside him. Enemies everywhere, we're surrounded by traitors. You're in command of the Lannister army now. How do we proceed?"

"Winter is here," Jaime started with the obvious and strolled closer to her. "We can't win a war if we can't feed our men and our horses. The Tyrells have the grain and the livestock."

"Will the Tyrell bannermen stand alongside a Dothraki horde and Unsullied slave soldiers?"

"If they think Daenerys will win. No one wants to fight on the losing side," Jaime admitted. "Right now, we look like the losing side."

"I'm the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." The queen said, seemingly unfazed.

"Three kingdoms at best," he corrected. "I'm not sure you understand how much danger we're in."

"I understand we're in a war for survival, I understand whoever loses dies," Cersei proclaimed. "I understand whoever wins could launch a dynasty that lasts a thousand years."

With her words, Jaime's tempered anger suddenly swelled up. "A dynasty? For whom? Our children are dead.... we're the last of us." 

"A dynasty for us, then."

Jaime could only stare at her, appalled. How could she even think about a dynasty for themselves when all of their children died abhorrent deaths recently, as a directly result of their schemes and plots for power. "We never talked about Tommen." 

The composed mask on Cersei's face wavered as she swiftly turned around and walked to the table with wine, Jaime hot on her heels. "There's nothing to say."

"Our baby boy killed himself!"

"He betrayed me, he betrayed us both," Cersei alleged as she poured herself a glass of wine and turned to face him. "Should we spend our days mourning the dead, mother, father and all our children-"

"Cersei," Jaime tried to interrupt but she continued. 

"I loved them, I did, but they're ashes now and we're still flesh and blood," she affirmed. "We're the last Lannisters, the last ones who count."

Jaime absorbed her tirade quickly, again fighting back the urge to dispute her claims. In truth, Tommen didn't betray either of them, their son was easily manipulated by his wife and by the High Sparrow but Cersei wasn't able to meet in compromise with them and had to resort to malevolent deeds. And when Tommen freed Jaime out of his position of Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, it was unexpected, yes, but it had to be done so he could command the Lannister army for the siege of the Riverrun, for the good of their house. He began to wonder when did the sweet and charming sister Jaime knew went, and when the paranoid and corrupt woman came.

"Even Lannisters can't survive without allies, where are our allies now?" Jaime questioned. "Your saw what happened to Walder Frey and his family." He hated the old, shriveled up riverlord but he didn't want what happened at the Twins to happen to them.

"I heard, how could we ever trust a man like that?" Cersei sipped her wine, oblivious of Jaime's simmering rage.

"We couldn't, he was a useless old coward, but the Freys supported us, now they're all dead. Whoever killed them is no friend of ours," he replied. "We need allies. Stronger, better allies. We can't win this war alone."

"You think I listened to father for 40 years and learned nothing?" she asked rhetorically. 

Afterwards, it had all dissolved into utter shit. When Jaime asked who she had in mind, Cersei answered with a proposition to not only invite knights and soldiers of the Reach to the capital to swear fealty but also the King of the Iron Islands, Euron Greyjoy. Jaime was taken back immediately with the idea, as his sister disclosed that Greyjoy's niece and nephew took a majority of the Ironborn fleet and served the Targaryen queen now as her main naval asset, but Euron had rebuilt his fleet and he'd be the perfect ally to aid them. When Jaime pointed out that the Crow's Eye was notorious for betrayal and dishonesty, his tales of ruthlessness and malice well known throughout the country, Cersei shrugged it off and said she'd depose of him if the need arises. Then, Jaime mentioned the possibility of the knights of the Reach choosing to follow their liege lady and not the queen on the Iron Throne, Cersei revealed her intention to meet with the Iron Bank of Braavos for a loan to purchase the sellswords of the Golden Company in case the southern knights disappointed her. He could only gape at her in horror as the all the possible scenarios played out in his mind; the Golden Company breaking their contract as soon when they take one look at the enemies three dragons, Cersei marrying Euron Crow's Eye then mysteriously dying soon after, the possibilities were endless and none were promising. Have they truly stooped so low as to hire sellswords by the bundle and make allies with a known treacherous pirate?

It was all too much for him to take, Jaime decided and leapt up out of his bed suddenly. The need to just get away from it all was overwhelming, to get away from the lies, from the stress of everything, the incessant feeling of uneasiness, the nagging worry that his sister had unknowingly turned into a monster, into another Aerys. He hadn't asked her directly, for he knew she would deny it, but all the signs point to her being the culprit of the Sept explosion, the reason Tommen and so many others had died. His golden twin had done some questionable things before but this was legitimately atrocious. Tell me, if your precious Renly commanded you to kill your own father and stand by while thousands of men, women and children burned alive, would you have done it?  He remembered his emotional bathtub confession to Lady Brienne  and Jaime made up his mind then.

He prepared a bag with clothes, coin and supplies, dressed in commoner's garb and a plain scabbard, slipped Widow's Wail into it and promptly left his chambers in Maegor's Holdfast. First he went to the kitchens and coaxed non perishable food from the head cook and then to the stables and commanded a stable-hand to prepare his horse. Once saddled and mounted, he rode out the Keep's gates in the dead of night without a look back. Where will I go now?  Not a lot of places would graciously or even begrudgingly host the Kingslayer and Jaime paused when he left the city's gate and was presented the choice to take the roseroad, the goldroad or the kingsroad. Could he return to Casterly Rock and lead the remaining the Lannister forces back to King's Landing? Or could he disappear to Lannisport, or to Oldtown, or Duskendale to be a nameless hedge knight and live out the rest of his life away from mad tyrants and dangerous plots for power? Jaime made a decision, probably his most significant decision since Aerys and spurned his horse forward.

Chapter Text

Brienne's footsteps echoed lightly as she marched down the short path from her chambers to those belonging to the main lord of Wintefell, Lady Sansa Stark. She knocked on the door and opened it when her lady bid her to enter.

"My lady, are you alright?," Brienne tentatively asked as she stood in the doorway of Sansa's solar. She had only been in there once before and was little shocked to be summoned there at the end of the day. Brienne had observed Sansa in the Great Hall tonight as they feasted to her younger brother's unexpected return and saw a distant look come over her lady's face. She was as gracious and attentive as ever but it seemed to Brienne that something unnerved Sansa enough from her to be truly happy tonight.

"Lady Brienne, please, come in," Sansa said and gestured her in to sit down. "Yes I'm fine, thank you for asking." Sansa was like her mother Lady Catelyn reborn again, poise, beautiful, well-mannered yet astute and daring as any other lord. "Lord Baelish had just inquired me over the same matter when he made his nightly stopover some time ago."

"Well I had noticed you seemed a little troubled at the feast for your brother's return," Brienne hesitantly started but stopped short in fear of saying something improper. 

Sansa's face fell slightly and she nodded once. "I thought I was hiding my discomfort well but I just couldn't. You'd think the day one of my long lost, long thought to be dead siblings returned home would be a joyous occasion, but.... everything's changed. The last time I saw Bran was before we left for King's Landing and he was unconscious, barely alive, my mother grieving by his bedside and today he's here, a man grown, dressed in wildling furs with a Reed of Grewater Watch companion. When I saw him earlier, I was overcome with emotion, for one brother just left to go South and then another unexpectedly returns, but now I feel..."

She trailed off and paused but Brienne knew better to interrupt her. Instead, the not-so distant memory of her own brother Galladon comes to mind, how he drowned when she was only four and left her all alone. She remembers the raw grief she felt and then burying it deep down at the behest of Septa Roelle. If by chance Galladon were to somehow come back to life, Brienne would be immensely overjoyed and overwhelmed, which is probably what Sansa was feeling like now. But her continual worrying looks were quite disconcerting.

"Bran's different. I don't know what happened to him when he journeyed beyond the Wall but it must have been something bad. When I talked to him in the godswood, he told me of seemingly impossible things and it... unnerved me," Sansa admitted and gulped. "But nonetheless I am happy for his return home and I wish him a smooth readjustment to Winterfell"

"What of the Lady Meera?" Brienne asks, thinking of the doe-eyed, tired looking young woman who accompanied Bran.

"I have met with her in her chambers before dinner and she swore fealty to Jon through me on behalf of House Reed. Her father Lord Howland Reed was Robb's bannerman when he ruled and Meera is the sole heir to her house."

"So what happens now?"

"Well, Lady Meera will have the choice to go home to Greywater Watch and assemble the crannogmen to fight in Jon's war or to send an envoy in her stead to do it for her," Sansa replied. "I'd reckon she's more likely to choose the latter, seeing how close she is to my brother."

"Yes, I agree," Brienne saw how joined at the hip Lord Bran and Lady Meera were. "Will the crannogmen leave the Neck to come North, though? It’s been said they’re a quite reclusive people."

"They will if their leige lady and Regent of the North commands it," Sansa confidently states. "Although I'd rather they'd guard the Neck then leave it."

"How do you mean?" 

"The Neck is the entrance to the North and its environment has protected it from southern invasion for years. With Cersei on the Iron Throne and us ignoring her demand to bend the knee, it's our first line of defense from her. Moat Cailin has sat unprotected since the ironborn's occupation and Robb's forces before that and I'd very much like to put to use soon."

Brienne noted the anxious yet determined look in Sansa's eyes when she spoke of Queen Cersei and empathized with it. From the short time she stayed in the Red Keep in King's Landing, Brienne knew of Cersei's viciousness and cunning all too well, thinking of their blessedly short interaction at King Joffrey's wedding. I don't serve your brother, Your Grace... But you love him...

"That is if the crannogmen have enough numbers to defend Moat Cailin and aid the North in the upcoming war..." Brienne suggests and Sansa inhales calmly.

"Well, if my uncle Lord Edmure answers justly to my letter, it won't be a problem for him to assemble the knights of the Trident to support in reinforcing Moat Cailin. Lord Tully is a man of honor, as per his houses words and now that he's no longer indisposed from being a prisoner of the Freys, he will come to his family's service. I have invited him here in the chance to finally converse in person."

Brienne bit her lip and looked down, abashed at the reminder of her failure to unite the Tully army with the Starks. Riverrun had already been under siege when she arrived and while Ser Jaime had convinced the Blackfish to surrender the castle, Brienne and Podrick had to escape with their mission unfulfilled and without any Tully cavalry to assist Lady Sansa and Jon. Sensing her displeasure, Sansa met her eyes and shook her head with a slight smile. 

"No, no, no, please don't think the blame is of your own, Lady Brienne, because it isn't" Sansa gently chided. "My great-uncle Ser Brynden was known for being notoriously stubborn, which proved true to his very end. Truly, the Freys wouldn't have allowed to you to cross north with the Tullys and if you went by sea, you'd have been too late to the battle Jon rushed into too soon. It was beyond your control, Brienne and it is not your fault."

With her words, the weight on Brienne's heart reluctantly lifted and she nodded, chin wobbling slightly. "Thank you for understanding, my lady."

"You're welcome, it's all water under the bridge now," Sansa affirmed and the side of her mouth quirked up in a small smile. "After all, it's much better this way. The Freys are all gone and I will soon be able to parley with Lord Edmure."

Yes, with the ever elusive and predatory Lord Baelish beside you, Brienne thought but quickly admonished herself for the subversive thought. She knew Lady Sansa did not like or even trust the deceitful Lord Protector of the Eyrie anymore than she did, but she knew of the pivotal backup he provided for the Battle of the Bastards and of the precarious partnership they had formed in its wake. From their previous discussion on the battlements, Brienne knew Sansa wasn't fond of Baelish in any regards and only tolerated him for the vital alliance they shared. 

"Yes well, I think I should take my leave now," Brienne rose up from her seat. "I bid you good night Lady Sansa and will see you on the morrow."

"Of course Lady Brienne, see you on the morrow," Sansa rose with her and walked her to the door. "I will break my fast with Lord Royce and Lord Baelish and afterwards I will convene with you and Maester Wolkan."

Some time later, after putting more food on the fire in her hearth, changed into her night tunic and breeches and reverently polished Oathkeeper before sliding the sword back into its sheath, Brienne laid in bed, tired from a day of teaching the little lords and ladies and Podrick how to swing a sword, reflecting on the fact that her squire was barely improving and from the revealing conversation with Lady Sansa. When King Jon approved of Sansa to make correspondence with Lord Tully before he left, she had overheard the dispute between Lord Petyr and her lady between the door she guarded and saw their irritated countenances when they emerged. Bran's reemergence was a welcome surprise but it will undoubtedly shake things up, whether it'll be for good or for bad is unforeseen. The North ignoring the command from the Iron Throne to bend the knee will almost certainly have consequences, but Lady Sansa was proving herself quite the strategist in making the first move before Cersei even struck. The last dreadful thought Brienne had before drifting off to a dreamless sleep was one of possibly facing off against Ser Jaime on the opposite side of a battle.

Chapter Text

Crossing his horse across the Blackwater Rush was easier than expected but in hindsight, that was where the trouble started. 

Nearly one moon has passed since he had impulsively left Cersei and King's Landing and up until then, Jaime had fared well. He had arrived at a overcrowded shantytown on the outskirts of King's Landing and was able to trade some coin for more food and learned that some of the people living there were either displaced from the war in the riverlands or from the Sept's explosion in the city. A feeling of guilt suddenly stabbed Jaime and he quickly moved on. He rode at a moderate pace, not wanting to tire his steed out so fast, parallel along the Goldroad. 

One day after crossing the Blackwater, Jaime stopped at a quaint inn between the Stoney Sept and the God's Eye. He noticed there wasn't many patrons inside so he took a seat and ordered a pint of ale. A curvaceous tavern wench with two top teeth missing served him the drink and winked at him. Jaime hastily looked away and met the eye of a knight sitting near the entrance. The knight looking at him wasn't wearing any House bearing armor but his two fellow knights sitting opposite him wore the black scaly armor of House Tully. They held eye contact for a few seconds and Jaime broke away to subconsciously fix the glove on his golden hand. He thought nothing of the knight also noticing his slick move and spent the night at the inn. 

Two days later, Jaime approached the God's Eye to water his horse and saw them again. Since last night, he knew he was being trailed when he heard faint voices talking in the dark. He couldn't decipher what they said so he grabbed Widow's Wail and forced himself to stay awake until dawn's first light. Jaime's head start was considerable but not enough seeing as the three knights and one squire were able to catch up to him now.

The knights jumped off their horses and led them to the water's edge, pretending not to notice Jaime standing some length away. It wasn't a coincidence that Jaime and these knights ran into each other again in such a small time frame.  Ok I have two choices, leave now and risk another encounter later or try to diffuse the situation now. When he still had his right hand, four men wouldn't be much of a challenge to Jaime, but with his maiming and little skill with left hand, the chances of defeating them in a sword fight would be very unlikely, even with a Valyrian steel sword.

In the end, the three knights introduced themselves to Jaime, who naturally lied about his identity but they didn't buy it. The man not wearing Tully armor, Ser Ellery, had described him to his associates Sers Dermot and Rupert and came to the conclusion that it was one-handed Jaime Lannister, sitting in the inn two days ago. They asked him why the queen's brother was wondering around the riverlands all alone, a question Jaime himself could not answer, at least not truthfully, as he hastily lied about riding to Hornvale to settle Westerland business. Unfortunately, they called him out on his bluff and advanced on him. When Jaime looked down to pull out Widow's Wail, he missed Ser Rupert's flying fist to his face and the world went dark around him.

When he came to some time later, he found himself with a pounding headache, weaponless, shackled and bound to his horses saddle. Ser Ellery and Ser Rupert rode in front him and Ser Dermot and the squire rode behind him.

"What do you lot expect to gain from capturing the Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the Westerlands?" Jaime demanded.

"Enough gold to rival what your lord father shat out, I hope," Ser Ellery replied and the men burst out guffawing. Irritated, Jaime ground his teeth and was reminded of his and Brienne's capture by the Bloody Mummers. 

"Where are you taking me?"

"We ride for Riverrun, milord," the squire answered and received a glare from Ser Rupert. Jaime gulped and tensed, his mind racing with questions.

The trip to Riverrun was uneventful but with each passing day Jaime grew more worried. Ser Rupert was gruff and distant, Ser Ellery, who Jaime learned was son of Lord Vance of Atranta, was sardonic and full of japes and Ser Dermot and the squire Aegon were both modest and reserved. Jaime didn't try to escape for he knew it was futile and kept to himself as their journey continued. When they reached gates of Riverrun, they rode inside after the drawbridge for the moat lowered. The knights jumped off their horses and Dermot untied Jaime from his and pulled him off his horse. 

"Aegon and I will seek Lord Tully's steward and appraise him of the situation," Ser Rupert announced and marched away with Aegon on his heels. Within minutes, Aegon returned and told Ellery and Dermot to go directly to Lord Tully's solar with Jaime in hand.

The remaining two knights roughly escorted Jaime into Riverrun's main keep, ignoring the stares they garnered from the kitchen wenches and other castle staff. Jaime held his head high, mentally preparing himself for the sentence Edmure Tully could possibly pass onto him: Will he hold him prisoner here and behead him in front of all the lords of the Trident for all the offenses of House Lannister? Will he hold him in the Riverrun dungeon and slowly let him rot, unbeknownst to the rest of the world? Will he hold him for ransom to Cersei? Or will he send him packing back to King's Landing, with no harm done to the Queen's brother lover? That last possibility is the most unlikely of all, Jaime ruefully thought as the knights knocked on the Lord's chambers, there's no way a Tully wouldn't want to hold a Lannister captive since my house and the Freys held him captive for almost two years.

"Enter," Edmure Tully commanded and Ser Dermot led the way in. Lord Tully's solar was adorned in the red and blue of his house colors and had a large window overlooking the moat outside behind the sturdy black desk in which Edmure sat. The Lord of Riverrun looked considerably better from the siege hostage Jaime threatened just three moons ago, his hair closely cropped and his body strong and lean again, no longer malnourished from lack of proper sustenance, but was dressed in a plain jerkin and breeches. Ser Dermot approached and laid Widow's Wail on his desk then stepped away.

"Well met, Ser Dermot and Ser Ellery, thank you for your service towards House Tully, you'd find my steward Utherydes Wayn in the library where he'll be able to provide you bedding here," Edmure stood and addressed his knights. "I'd like to speak to Ser Jaime alone."

Ellery reluctantly unhanded Jaime, bowed with Dermot to Lord Edmure and promptly left them alone. Edmure sized him up and down, an inscrutable look on his face but Jaime refused to look away.

"Sit then," Edmure said and gestured to the chair in front his desk. Jaime slowly approached, chains rattling as he look his seat across from him. "Go ahead, I suppose you'd want to have the first word in."

Jaime nearly didn't oblige him but couldn't bite back the question he'd been holding in. "Why did you have your soldiers capture me?"

"Wrong as always, Kingslayer. I've simply ordered my knights to detain any Lannister men in the riverlands and bring them here or to push them out. I wasn't aware you were in the vicinity and I never specifically ordered your arrest, but seeing as you're an actual Lannister and you were oddly without your cavalry,  those knights captured you all the same. They're probably expecting a fat purse for their endeavor and I'll gladly indulge them."

"So what will you have of me now? The dungeons this time? Or the headsman?" Jaime asked, suddenly weary of the continuing game he thought he escaped King's Landing from.

"Hmm... I think the dungeons will do for now," Edmure answered but Jaime took note of his careful wording.

"For now?"

"Aye, for now Kingslayer. We'll depart for Winterfell in a week from today. Word travels fast and I'd mislike for your sister to learn of your current location," he clarified with one raised eyebrow. "My niece Lady Sansa Stark, the Regent of the North has invited me to parley and convene at Winterfell. Lord Jonos Bracken of Stone Hedge will be accompanying us."

"How odd, I've never known for Lords to travel across kingdoms with their hostages," Jaime deadpanned.

"It is quite peculiar, but not in our case. You'll be a... welcoming gift to the Starks for them to do with you what they please," Edmure explained. "A hostage in the North, you won't be for they'll likely try and sentence you for crimes against House Stark and against the North."

Fear suddenly gripped Jaime as he momentarily shut his eyes, picturing his very likely guilty verdict from the Starks. The last he'd seen of Sansa Stark, she was a meek and grief ridden young lady, his sister-by-law, and if there wasn't a chance her past experiences hadn't hardened her yet, her Northern bannermen will presumably call for his head, and influence her decision. It was time for Jaime to act fast, instinctually inventing a Lannister lie to protect him.

"You know better than anyone, Edmure, that my sister won't take her brother's arrest lightly," Jaime smugly suggested. "You'll remember what happened the last time a Tully took a Lannister prisoner."

Jaime's heavy implication drew out Edmure's ire, seeing as his jaw clenched and his eyes darkened. "Only all too well, Kingslayer," Edmure replied and suddenly stood. "How dare you? The audacity of you to try and remind me of my family's demise at the hands of yours. You, the man who somehow swindled his freedom from Cat? You, the man whose men killed my uncle Ser Brynden, who I had to bury before being promptly paraded back to my cell at the Twins? No ser, your Lannister charm can't save you this time. You may not have personally killed my sister and nephew but their assassination had Lannister written all over it, your father was the man aiming the crossbow and the Freys and Boltons were the bolts. He may be dead now, Seven bless, but their deaths need to be answered for. And all of those who died because of the war your bastard started. You're just as guilty as your sire and your seed.

The least you can hope for is taking the black but I doubt they'd allow it. If your sister were to hear about your capture and demise, what will she do? The last I checked, she's preoccupied with the imminent Targaryen invasion, the war for the throne would obviously take precedence over her missing lover," Edmure voiced in a tone just below shouting. "How poetic, one Lannister will lose his head in the North by the Starks and the other will burn on the Iron Throne by a Targaryen, both of you earning your due comeuppance from two families yours almost decimated."

Edmure's impromptu speech resonated with a soft pang within Jaime and he lowered his gaze from Edmure's tear filled eyes, abruptly ashamed. "I didn't know what would happen at your wedding... I was on the road then and was horrified to learn about it."

"That's rich coming from you, I didn't know you could feel any emotions other than a lust for blood and your sister," Edmure replied and rapidly blinked his tears away. 

"Lord Tully, it's not too late to change this," Jaime humbly started again. "I swear on all the gold in the Westerlands, if you release me now, I and the rest of House Lannister will forgive and forget this offense. You needn't bend the knee to the crown and as long as I'm Warden of the West, my armies won't pillage and interfere in the riverlands for as long as I live."

Edmure momentarily considered his plea and then he shrugged. "Which won't be for much longer, I suspect."

With that, he sent in one of his household guards to escort Jaime down to the Riverrun dungeons. His cell was dark and dank, with a bucket to piss in and some hay in the opposite corner. Jaime laid down in the haystack and contemplated his future. There wasn't a major Northern House that wasn't slighted by House Lannister in the war and the Starks were persecuted the most. Tales of the former Lord Commander turned King in the North had even reached down south, stories of his courage, battle prowess, and wolf-like ferocity was enough of a warning to any possibly enemies. Jaime vaguely remembered Ned's unassuming bastard son Jon from their one short interaction before they departed from Winterfell, the green boy had somehow transformed into a liege both feared and loved, a man who, along with his sister Sansa, will decide his fate. He doubted either Stark sibling would want to grant him mercy when he was the one attacked Ned in the streets and escaped Robb's cell. Well, I'm fucked.

The days blended together in the cell, but Jaime kept his wits about him. A household guard served him two meals a day, brown bread and beans in the morning and cabbage and a sliver of trout for dinner. A week later, two guards waited until he finished breaking his fast to lead him up out of the dungeons into the castle courtyard, where many men were saddling horses and prepping for their excursion North. Jaime spotted Edmure embracing a fair brunette lady with a toddler, no doubt his wife and son. They kissed and Edmure lifted the child from his wife arms and kissed the top of his head. He didn't even realize he was still staring until Edmure had waltzed over to him and addressed him.

"Beg pardon?"

"I said, you'll be travelling in the cargo carriage with Ser Dermot and Ser Harwyn. You'll be allowed to piss and stretch your legs at the end of each day when we make camp," Edmure explained and opened the carriage door for Jaime. "If you decide to escape, I've given my men express orders to bring you back, preferably alive or dead."

"I expected no less," Jaime quipped sarcastically and climbed into the carriage. His knightly bodyguards entered after, Ser Dermot sitting next to him and the new Ser Harwyn across from them. Dermot met his eyes and nodded once yet but Harwyn kept his eyes down and kept his hand gripped on his sword. The starting sounds of the company march was heard and the lurch of the carriage forward officially commenced Jaime's journey to the North.

Chapter Text

The cold Northern wind was especially strong on this day, whipping up the fur collar of Brienne's cloak into her face and her cheeks were stained red from standing in position for some time now. Beside her, Podrick fidgeted for the fifth time and ferociously rubbed his hands together for warmth but for once, Brienne couldn't blame him. After all, they were both southerners and this was the North, where it was chilly at best and punishingly freezing at its worst, it was no place for the faint of heart. But, Brienne's duty was here and she always answered its call.

"They're almost here," Bran's monotone voice announced from in front her and she looked down at the younger man. He was sitting in his wheelchair beside Lady Arya and Lady Sansa beside her. Maester Wolkan, the steward of Winterfell and the rest of the castles household stood behind her. As if on cue, Stark men on horses came riding through the gates of Winterfell followed by many Tully soldiers baring their coat of arms on flags. Two carriages entered behind the plenty of men and finally the procession ended.

Lord Edmure Tully dismounted from his horse lithely and with another lord Brienne didn't know, confidently approached his nieces and nephew. They bowed first and the Stark sisters curtsied, albeit clumsily from the younger.

"Welcome to Winterfell, Lord Edmure and Lord Jonos," Sansa proclaimed with a small smile. "I trust your journey north was without predicament."

Brienne had never met Lady Catelyn's younger brother in her short tenure as sworn sword but she recognized Edmure as her late lady's brother by his Tully blue eyes and the determined yet compelling aura of strength surrounding him. "Our journey went as well as expected, my lady, but it was a long distance and my men will need to recuperate with room and refreshments," Edmure replied.

"Of course Uncle," Sansa obliged courteously. "May I please introduce my sister Lady Arya, my brother Lord Brandon, his companion Lady Meera Reed, my sworn sword Lady Brienne of Tarth, Maester Wolkan, Lord Petyr Baelish the Lord Protector of the Vale and Lord Yonh Royce of Runestone," she listed them all down the line. 

Lord Edmure met her eyes as Brienne bowed and she saw an almost imperceptible look on his face until he looked away to Lord Baelish. Visible confusion and slight disgust met smug self-assurance but before they could interact, Lady Sansa chimed in again.

"Come my lords, if you'll follow me inside where we can privately convene in my study. Arya, Bran would you care to join us?"

"No, thank you, I'm needed in the godswood now," Bran answered.

"And I have to train now, you know that Sansa," Arya defiantly said and Sansa's amiable countenance fell for half a second until she caught herself and recovered. "Very well, Uncle Edmure and Lord Jonos, if you'll please accompany me. Maester Wolkan and Lord Baelish will greet and accommodate your knights in the Great Hall."

The nearly tense welcome then dispersed with the nobles going into the castle and Brienne noticed a Winterfell household guard lead Tully men to the stables with their horses yet three Tully men stood guard by the plain cargo carriage in the rear. Brienne thought it odd for them to still stay as sentries when it was just the cargo carriage but after a while she pushed the thought aside and walked away to the training yards.

"That wasn't a clean move," Brienne chided as she rubbed the spot on her torso where Arya landed a hit. The lady in question shrugged whilst trying to get her breathing under control. 

"It was fair in Braavos," Arya argued in defense. "The Faceless Men didn't care about what was clean or fair, they cared if their target is dead or subdued, regardless of the method we choose."

She was reminded of Arya's unconventional training in every swing, parry and occasional blow they sometimes landed on the other. Whatever happened to the she-wolf in Essos changed the girl Brienne once briefly encountered in the Vale. Ever since her arrival a fortnight ago, Brienne seldom saw the sprightly girl peak out underneath the cool demeanor of the young lady and could only come to the conclusion that her adverse experiences forced the girl to evolve and adapt beyond childhood and into something else. It happens to us all, Brienne thought grimly and recalled the past two years. The bet, Renly, Lady Catelyn, Ser Jaime, the Mummers, Harrenhal, The Hound, Stannis, even thinking about it was almost too much to bear.

"I won't hold it against you, but just try to remember I'm learning from you too," Brienne conceded, because in truth, the move was quite good and she wanted to learn how to do it herself.

"No problem," Arya replied with a small smile but her eyes went behind Brienne so she turned and looked as well. Lady Meera and Lord Bran were coming from the godswood and straight to the training yard. 

"Back so soon Meera? You want to spar to impress my little brother?" Arya asked, amused with her quip. Lady Meera Reed may look slight but once the lady put back on the weight she lost from her time over the Wall, she was in the training yard with them whenever she wasn't Bran. And by the gods, could she fight! Her skills with a spear was unparalleled. Brienne and Arya both quickly came to respect her in and out of the yard.

"No Arya, Bran told me to bring him here quickly for something. I haven't the faintest idea what for," Meera answered and patted Bran's shoulder, whose own hand then reached up to touch hers in turn. 

Just then, a castle page hurried up to them and they all turned their attention to him. Seemingly unaccustomed to addressing so many highborn individuals at once, the boy finally stammered out: "My lord, my ladies, I've been sent by Lady Sansa to retrieve Lady Arya, Lord Brandon and Lady Brienne to Lady Sansa's solar. She said it is a matter of immediate importance."

Confusion rippled through Brienne at the young boy's words. Why would Lady Sansa need to see her for an urgent matter? And to be included with her siblings nonetheless? Could it have been what Lord Edmure may have said in their private meeting? Or was it something to do with Lord Baelish?

"Thank you, we'll be on our way now," Bran stated tranquilly. "My lady, it is fine, Arya will take me there. I will find you later." He addressed Meera in a certain, softer tone and Meera nodded, touched his shoulder once more and moved from behind his wheelchair.

Brienne followed with the Starklings out of the yard but briefly stopped Podrick on her way out. "I have to meet with Lady Sansa now but continue training with the Master of Arms here. When you're done, wait with the other squires until further notice," she told him and handed him her tourney sword over to be placed back with the others.

When they reached Sansa's solar, the aforementioned was already waiting by the door and ushered them in.

"Sansa, what's the meaning of all of this?" Arya intently inquired when they all entered and saw the elder Starks obvious distress.

Sansa exhaled in frustration and began. "My meeting with Uncle Edmure and Lord Jonos went mostly well. Edmure bent the knee to Jon through me but he asked why I was not crowned instead. I assured him of Jon's capabilities and how the other lords rightfully chose him as King. He seemingly moved on but I got the impression that he didn't approve of a bastard as his sire. We discussed strategies for Jon's upcoming war and for Cersei and he has graciously agreed to station half of the Tully soldiers to guard the Neck at Moat Cailin and the other half in addition to his bannermen's knights to fight Jon's war when the time comes. But that's not what I wanted to discuss," Sansa bit her lip and hesitated. "Before Lord Edmure left Riverrun for Winterfell, his knights came across Ser Jaime Lannister and he had come with him in secret here. He delivered him to us in hopes that we try and execute him for crimes against our houses and against the North."

Brienne felt her heart drop into her stomach at Sansa's shocking revelation. Jaime? A prisoner here?? It was all too much for her to comprehend. Her first and most pressing thought was why was Ser Jaime away from his sister in the first place? And how did he get himself captured? Her eyes nearly bulged out her head when Sansa reached behind her and revealed Widow's Wail, Oathkeeper's twin, shiny and golden and sheathed in a plain sword belt.

"Holy shit," Arya exclaimed, oblivious to her sister's grim demeanor. "Where is the Kingslayer now?"

"Lord Edmure said he was placed under guard in the cargo carriage that arrived with him so I ordered five guards to discreetly move him to the dungeons."

"Good, so when shall we execute him?" Arya eagerly requested and Brienne fought to control the noise bubbling out of her mouth.

"That is absolutely not happening," Sansa shot back with a gasp. "I am not executing Cersei's brother lover and the heir to Casterly Rock, because if we do so, we run the risk of war from the Westerlands and a Northern invasion from the crown. We've already ignored Cersei's letter to abandon Northern independence and bend the knee but executing the queen's brother will look like a declaration of war, which is the last thing we need. It's the one event I have been making contingencies for but then this happened..."

"Sansa, I don't know if you can recall," Arya began venomously. "That the Kingslayer is the same man who attacked and injured our father in the streets of King’s Landing. He killed Jory Cassel and took up arms against Robb. The Kingslayer is the father of that bastard Joffrey who killed Father, so I say we strike immediately and root out the evil for once."

Normally Brienne would be hesitant to interrupt their sister's quarrel but she couldn't hold back anymore. Their slander of Ser Jaime shouldn't stand without a proper rebuttal. However, before she could say anything, Sansa retorted. 

"Don't you think I know that? Say we kill him but then what? We send our bannermen and knights off to fight another war with the Lannisters, because that's what will happen if we execute him. Cersei will not stand for her only remaining kin to have been killed by her enemies, she'd have the heads of whoever responsible. Our heads, Arya. I've been trying to prevent or at least stave off this war for months ever since our bannermen raised their swords to crown Jon. I will not make a rash decision based on your judgement alone. He will remain in the dungeons until I notify Jon and our bannermen."

Arya shook her head in disbelief and glanced at Bran and Brienne. "And what do you lot think we should do with him?"

Bran beat her to it. "Sansa is right, killing Ser Jaime will not do us any favors and it will leave a negative effect in the ripple of time."

"Whatever that means!" Arya scoffed, throwing her hands up and stalked to the door but when she reached, she turned back with an ominous look on her face. "The Kingslayer was not on my list but he is a Lannister. You can write to Jon and to the lords but I shall see justice when it is due, and believe me, it is most certainly overdue here." Lady Arya may have the Stark look but her attitude and demeanor was very reminiscent of Lady Catelyn's. She held Sansa's gaze for a lingering moment until her grey eyes unexpectedly met her own.

"Do try to remember your oath to our mother, Lady Brienne," Arya said and pointedly glanced down at Oathkeeper at her hip before leaving, the insinuation not lost on anyone in the room.

Chapter Text

His cell in the Winterfell dungeons was a direct demotion from the one back in Riverrun. It was draftier and grimier and the guards handled them rougher. Although that was to be expected, his caustic inner voice stated, they'd handle an honorless oathbreaker like me with as much hostility as they'd like. However, the supper they served him was a slight improvement, a hot beef brown stew seasoned with peppers, carrots, onions and peas paired a slice of white bread. Jaime used the bread to sop up the remnant and licked his fingers afterwards, propriety damned. The game Jaime's Tully knights fed him on the road was often half raw and tasteless and it would be the only thing he'd eat after a long day in the cramped carriage. There was a high chance he'd be headless by the end of the week so Jaime would savor every meal with fervor.

He was almost sleep until he heard a slight commotion outside of his cell and faint voices in the distance. Dismissing it as a nightly change to guard him, he closed his eyes again until he heard a soft yet distinct call of his name. Jaime's eyes snapped open and he scrambled up. It was Brienne, with a candle lantern, wearing the blue under-amour jerkin and breeches that he had gifted to her, seemingly so long ago. Jaime could've wept at the sight of her, only just barely holding it together.

"Ser Jaime?" Brienne asked as he got up approached the bars. She didn't meet his eyes, her own too busy roaming his physique, thinner now due to a lack of proper nutrition.

"Brienne? Why- What are you doing here?" Jaime asked and her gaze lifted up to meet his.

"I've come to check on you, Ser Jaime? They've fed you supper already, right?" Brienne inquired with concern and Jaime nodded.

"Yes, I suspect it was the scraps from the feast held in Lord Tully's honor," Jaime says, spitting out the name Tully. "Have they reached a verdict and celebrated the loss of my head early?"

"No! Ser Jaime, your trial will take place at the end of the week," Brienne relayed. "Lady Sansa is waiting for some of her bannermen to come to Winterfell before holding the trial for you."

"And what did Lady Stark think of my capture and my deliverance here by her dear Uncle Edmure?" Jaime sardonically asked.

"Well, Lady Sansa was shocked, as were Lady Arya and Lord Bran," she says with a sigh. "Lady Sansa didn't say it directly, but I got the impression that she didn't appreciate how Lord Tully just brought you here unannounced, she was quite distressed."

He nodded then shrugged. Distress alone wasn't going to save him from their headsmen. "What did her siblings think?" He barely remembered Arya, the sprightly little girl who  fearlessly stood up to Joffrey at the Trident and disappeared without a trace when her father was beheaded.

"Lady Arya is... skeptical," Brienne unconvincingly said, after pausing to decide what word to describe the aforementioned's reaction. "and Lord Bran didn't seem fazed. The Stark children have changed a lot over the years."

Jaime nodded, unsurprised. "Yes, that was a given."

A palpable silence falls between them so Jaime takes advantage of it to ask another question. "So what do you think of my arrival here, my lady?"

"Ser Jaime, I'm more... confused," she answered after a moment's hesitation. "After Riverrun, I thought you'd go back with your troops to King's Landing so for you to have been apparently captured by Tully men disconcerts me."

"... I did return to King's Landing," Jaime admit, swallowing a lump in his throat. "I left a moon after returning and was trying to discreetly return to Casterly Rock when three Tully knights got the jump on me and dragged me to Riverrun." His departure was impulsive, yes, but he didn’t regret it, even now. Since no troops or The Mountain himself came chasing after him to drag him back, he’d figure he would take the long way to his ancestral home, avoiding the King’s Road for obvious reasons. The Rock wasn't his first choice but he'd figure he'd rather be anywhere then by Cersei's side.

"'Discreetly'? Did Her Grace not know of you leaving?"

Jaime shook his head, hanging it low. "No, she didn't know, I impulsively left in the middle of the night... I just couldn't bear it Brienne, I couldn't be around her anymore-"

He didn't even realize he was crying until he felt the tears drip his down nose, falling to his feet on the floor. Jaime didn't even remember the last time he cried, he didn't cry standing guard by the bodies of his father and daughter nor did he cry when they scattered Tommen's ashes across the ruins of the Sept of Baelor. He felt his emotions blubber up and out him at once, "Tommen is dead and I wasn't there to stop it. He jumped from the highest tower of the Red Keep when she blew up the Sept with Margaery inside and she didn't even care."

His cries were quiet and sobering and eventually he slowed himself down to breathe deeply and rubbed his undoubtedly red eyes. Still looking at the ground, unable to meet the lady’s gaze he said,”It’s all my fault anyways. Maybe I deserve to repent for my sins this way, if I cannot hold myself accountable then the Starks and the North will do it for me.”

”No, Ser Jaime, no,” Brienne affirmed in a high, clear voice. He looked into her blue eyes and saw no harsh judgment or pity reflected in them. “You have no absolute sins you need to repent for.”

”The sins of House Lannister, then.”

”You alone cannot answer for the crimes done by your deceased father and sisters. The North is a prideful kingdom but they need to listen to reason and give you a fair trial.” 

“And who other than me would speak in my defense? You?” He sardonically asked with a huff.

Brienne straightened up and obstinately replied,”Aye, Ser Jaime, I will.”

”You are sworn to the Stark children, the very lieges holding my fate in their hands. Imagine the scandal if their sworn sword spoke up against their will,” Jaime remarked, simultaneously in awe and dread.

”All of their bannermen and sworn vassals have a right to say something and I plan on being one of those who do. Both Lady Sansa and Arya value my opinion enough to hear me out.”

”You don’t have to do this, Brienne,” Jaime implored. “If you’re publicly vouching for my honor and my life, it would then implicate yours. Why do you plan to do such folly?”

Brienne stared at him hard then brought her hand up to rest on a iron bar near his face. “Because it’s the right thing to do.” Just as quickly, she moved her hand back down to her side, and dropped her gaze away from his. “Good night, Ser Jaime.” She turned on her heel, leaving with her lantern in tow, leaving him in darkness once again.

Five days later, four household Stark guards came to retrieve Jaime from his cell. They shackled his wrists and ankles then marched him towards the Great Hall of Winterfell. He saw the sneers and fearful faces of castle staff and soldiers alike but he ignored it with his head held high.

There was a commotion of voices beyond the door where all of the Northern lords were sitting, awaiting. After a moment, a guard from the inside opened it and his gaolers pushed him inside. Two long tables on opposite sides sat lords and ladies of the North he recognized, most likely the heirs of those who died fighting in the previous wars. However, Jaime recognized the family sitting that the high table who held his future in their very hands: Lady Sansa Stark sat in the lord’s chair, flanked by her uncle Lord Tully on her left and her siblings on her right. Sansa was the spitting image of Lady Catelyn, dressed in grey and swathed in furs, but with her eyes faced on him, he only saw Ned Stark’s cold, judgmental gaze staring back at him. Arya, no longer the little girl who ran away, now older with an even frostier look upon her face. Lastly, Jaime’s eyes landed on the boy he’d never thought he’d see again: Brandon Stark. The boy was now almost a man grown, sitting in a wheeled chair, subdued and calmly watching him with a knowing stare. He remembers...

To his left sat Brienne, fully dressed in her blue armor with a fur overcoat on but his attention was drawn to the person next to her. Lord Petyr Baelish, Littlefinger of the Fingers, looking as smarmy as ever. His presence in the North confounded Jaime, as the last he had heard of him, he was Lord of Harrenhal and had left to the Vale to marry the deranged Lady Lysa Arryn. Baelish apparently forsook the crown's side to play some lone rogue game but that was all Jaime knew, making him even uneasier. Was the slimy and ever-scheming Littlefinger influencing Lady Sansa, and if he was, to what end? His? Theirs?

"As I've stated before, thank you all for making the journey to Winterfell on such short notice. Your efforts in coming here are greatly appreciated and will not be in vain," Sansa said diplomatically. "A raven has been sent to King Jon at Dragonstone notifying him of the trial occurring today. As his heir and regent, I shall judge the accused in his stead." Dragonstone? So that's where Ned's bastard is, Jaime thought to himself. "Six years ago, my lord father Eddard Stark lost his head in King's Landing and war broke between the Seven Kingdoms primarily between House Stark and House Lannister. House Stark called their banners and your houses answered. The North crowned my brother Robb king after he captured the accused post battle. A year later, he and my lady mother were assassinated at Lord Tully's wedding, a deplorable act orchestrated by the accused's father, Tywin Lannister. Countless northmen lost their lives, either valiantly in battle or slain treacherously at the Twins. The accused, Ser Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock, played a part in this war, regardless of it being big or small, must answer to the crimes his House has committed against the North. Every lord and lady present may judge the accused guilty or innocent and inquire anything for him."

A chorus of "Ayes" and fists banging on the table rang out as Sansa concluded her welcome speech. Edmure Tully stood up as soon as they quieted down and said, "My lords, my ladies, make no mistake, the Kingslayer is guilty from his bare bones to his shackled hands and feet. He's been guilty since he slew Aerys Targaeryn II and the realm let him get away with that. He's been guilty since he commit three treasons with his sister and passed their bastards off as royalty. He's been guilty since he escaped King Robb's cell and further threw off the Northern cause. To let him get away with these monstrous crimes now would be an atrocity in itself. And thanks to his house, my nieces and nephew lost their father, mother and eldest brother and suffered greatly to be where they are today. Guilty is the only verdict and the headsman is the only solution."

Jaime swallowed and looked down as another round of cheers sounded out, louder than before. An outraged looking little girl who looked no older than two-and-ten to Jaime's right stood up as Edmure sat down. "I was only six years old when I learned that my sister Dacey was killed at the Red Wedding, leaving me the only heir to Bear Island. No child should ever have to hear that their family has been savagely murdered, not even in battle, but at a wedding. House Mormont has stood beside House Stark for several generations and never once broke faith and we won't start now. The Kingslayer should be deemed guilty, on account to the tragedies that happened to both of our Houses. He should be hanged, drawn and quartered."

It took a while for the roars for his death to die down again and when it did, Lady Sansa gave a pointed look to a boy who looked even younger than the Mormont girl with a raised hand. "Lord Umber, would you like to state your piece?"

"Y-yes my lady, I do," the young lord stammered out, clearly not used to the attention his status gave him. "I do not have a personal grievance against Ser Jaime but I recognize the wrongdoings his House has done over the years. I think we should... hold him prisoner here and ransom him to his sister the queen. The price for his ransom could pay for many supplies we'd need for this upcoming war with the Others. Spilling his blood wouldn't be as advantageous as being paid for his being. The Lannister queen would pay well to have her brother back."

His suggestion of ransom was met with near silence but Lady Arya was quick to correct him. "Lord Umber, you must be thinking of another queen. Cersei will not pay us anything for she is as treacherous as he is. I say, we take seize this opportunity while we still have it and take out this Lannister without the other one even knowing. I agree with my Uncle Edmure, he should be beheaded for his crimes as soon as possible."

So that's two out of three... Jaime thought glumly, but why has Bran not spoke up about what I did to him? He looked to the serene young man who stared back at him boldly. With just a few sentences, Bran could single-handedly decide Jaime's fate and he'd be sent to the chopping block this afternoon. Bran purposefully not speaking up confused him, then finally someone he knew who would did.

Brienne stood, looked past Jaime's gaze to stare ahead straight at the Starklings. "My ladies, my lords, this may be hard for you all to hear but I need you all to listen. Ser Jaime is a good and honorable man, I've seen so myself. I was his captor once but when we were both taken prisoner by Bolton men, they tried to force themselves on me, Ser Jaime defended me and lost his hand because of it-"

"Of course you'd think so, Lady Brienne," Littlefinger interrupted brazenly, drawing the ire out of them both. "We all see the golden lion of Lannister ingrained on the head of your sword you carry so proudly on your hip."

Brienne didn't let his insinuation slow her down, even though the adjoined crowd started a murmur. "Yes, it's true I carry Ser Jaime's former sword on my person because he armed and armored me to go out and fulfill the oath we'd both sworn your mother to save you Lady Sansa and Lady Arya by any means necessary. My sword was forged from Ned Stark's former sword Ice and so is his," Brienne revealed, looking at both ladies with pleading eyes. "My ladies, without him, you'd be dead. Let Ser Jaime live."

Sansa absorbed this new information with care then said, "You vouch for him?"

"I do."

"And if it came down to it, you would fight beside him?" Sansa asked again.

"I would," Brienne said resolutely. Jaime felt his spirit lighten and his heart practically jumped out his chest at Brienne's revelation. He'd go to the headsman completely unburden knowing that she, the most honorable person he'd ever know, had seen him and understood him as no one ever had.

The Great Hall was still with silence, all of them except Jaime watching the Lady of Wintefell deliberate. Brienne finally met Jaime's gaze as she made to sit back down, an inscrutable look on her face. 

"I trust you with my life, Lady Brienne, so I will take your words into account. Is there anyone else here who would like to speak in defense or otherwise for Ser Jaime?" Sansa asked and again the hall was quiet. Jaime looked back to Bran, who made no indication that he would speak, then sighed.

"My lords, I'd like to now conclude this meeting by announcing that I will privately consider some more on Ser Jaime's case, the verdict of which you will be notified," Sansa proclaimed, to the obvious shock of her uncle and sister sitting by her. "Thank you all for attending, this trial is now adjourned. Guards, please take the accused back to his cell."

She stood, and the rest of her bannermen followed suit, then pushed her chair back to leave. Jaime's guards reappeared by his side instantly and he could only chance another look at his lady before being promptly marched out of the hall. 

Chapter Text

The tension in Lady Sansa's solar was thick enough to cut with Oathkeeper. An apprehensive Brienne sat and observed the Stark sisters. Sansa and Arya sat next to each other but their growing strain was silent yet palatable, as it had been for a few days ago since Ser Jaime's trial had concluded. The Lady of Winterfell was as diplomatic as ever, but in the quiet moments when she let her guard down, her stress was clearly visible. But Arya was distant and colder than usual, especially to Brienne. She knew why. Her defense of Jaime during the trial was pivotal, as had it granted him his life, even if for a few more days and Brienne didn't regret doing it at all. Still, there was something truly haunting in the she-wolf's glare and she prayed this coming meeting would hopefully clear the air between all of them.

"How long is this going to take?" Arya let her impatience be known in her question.

Sansa took a deep breath and continued to stare deep into her fireplace. "As long as it needs to. You wanted to be included in this, don't try to back out now."

Arya let out an annoyed sigh but she said no more. Gone was the spirited young woman who relentlessly sparred with Brienne, the cold, jaded assassin had settled in and taken her place. Her behavior had soured even further after they received Jon's letter from Dragonstone detailing for them to keep Ser Jaime prisoner here. Lord Tully, along with Lord Bracken, had returned to the riverlands yesterday dispirited at the fact that Jaime wasn't unceremoniously beheaded despite Lady Sansa reassuring him that he'd still have a punishment. Brienne silently reveled in seeing the two riverlords leave like wounded dogs, with their tails between their legs.

Finally, a knock resounded on the door and Sansa calmly told them to enter. The door opened and revealed four guards and Podrick standing around a handcuffed Ser Jaime. Brienne has sent her squire along with the household guards so that Jaime could at least feel at ease and so that Podrick could experience some individual responsibility on his own. The boy was an eager and overly willing help to her, although the latter used to be of such a nuisance to her.

"Unchain Ser Jaime's limbs and leave us," Sansa commanded her guards but when they hesitated, she continued. "He is unarmed and I have my sworn sword here should he move to hurt us. Unchain him."

The guards did as bid and Jaime nodded his thanks to Podrick only before they filed out of the solar. A silent beat passes as Jaime and the Stark sisters size each other up then Sansa broke it by saying, "Ser Jaime, please take a seat. Supper will be served shortly."

After a moment's hesitation, Brienne took the seat closest to the fire so if needed be, Jaime was seated closest to the door if he had to make a quick escape. Not that I would necessarily help him but it was always good to think ahead, Brienne thought to herself anxiously. He was dressed poorly, like a lowborn commoner, looking thinner in shape and his facial hair was scraggly and unkempt. However, his handsomeness still clear beneath his disheveled appearance.

"Where's your handicapped brother Lord Brandon? He couldn't make the trip up the stairs?" Jaime said with his trademark tactless comments. She shot him a disapproving look but Jaime only had eyes for the sisters. Sansa's lip quirked up in a caustic half-smile but Arya remained stony faced.

"Oh ser, I'd think a humbled crippled man such as yourself would have more dignity to make such insensitive comments, especially seeing as you and my brother have something in common," Lady Sansa remarked with a raised brow. That silenced Jaime right up and after a moment he sighed and spoke again.

"Seeing as I still have my arrogant head on my shoulders, I assume you're still deciding what to do with me, so why don't we get this over with?" Jaime suggested tiredly and spared her a glance. Wishing he valued his life more, Brienne pursed her lips and directed her gaze back to her lady.

"On that we can agree, Ser. You see, I'm at a bit of an impasse here. My uncle Lord Edmure unexpectedly brought you here, hoping to see an execution that I could not, in good conscience, give him," Sansa revealed with a small grimace. "My brother King Jon wants you to be kept prisoner here, while some of our lieges including my own sister want your head. If I let you go, I'd risk you slinking back to your sister and leading your men back here for an invasion in retaliation for holding you captive. And if I execute you, I'd be risking war from the Crown and from the Westerlands." Her gaze met Brienne's for a moment then slid back to Jaime's. "My sworn sword, Lady Brienne publicly vouched for your life but my other advisors Lord Baelish and Lord Royce have condemned you in private. I have valid reasons to let you go and valid reasons to see you to the chopping block. We are here tonight, just the four of us to finally make a decision."

"...Are you expecting such a humbled cripple like me to beg for my life?" Jaime mockingly asked after a long moment. "Because I assure you, you won't get it." Brienne winced internally. Jaime doesn't value his life as much as I thought he would, or used to. That much was clear.

"We'd like to ask a few questions first before you do so," Arya replied coldly, not falling for his bait. Just then, a knock came at the door and when Sansa ordered them to enter, serving girls entered to deliver their food. Dinner consisted of thick beef steak, buttered, gravied and garnished, steamed vegetables and roasted potatoes. Dornish wine filled Sansa's chalice, while Brienne and Arya both chose spiced wine and Jaime was served water, not by choice. For the next several minutes, they all ate in relative silence and Brienne noticed how Jaime cleaned his plate of the side dishes yet sat back with just his steak left. His pride will not allow him to show him struggling to eat in front of the Stark sisters, Brienne realized grimly. She spared a quick glance to the ladies in front of her then quickly reach over and picked up his fork and knife and began to cut his steak into pieces so that he could eat.

"Brienne, you don't have to," Jaime admonished, his tone of voice soft in comparison. Sansa and Arya both looked up to see what their sworn sword was doing and discreetly shared a knowing look. 

"Just eat," Brienne said as she shook her head, finished divvying up the steak for him and sat back unfazed. Jaime hesitated then dug in with gusto and Brienne was overcome with the memory of a familiar scenario with Lord Roose Bolton, all those years ago. She felt her liege ladies' eyes on her but she only looked down at the table, unconcerned with what she just did.

As soon as Jaime swallowed down the last of his water to wash down his steak, he gestured tiredly to the sisters and asked, "What is it you wish to know?"

"Why did you leave Cersei?" Sansa inquired immediately with a steel gaze.

Jaime shrugged nonchalantly, though his eyes were downcast. "I became disillusioned with her and couldn't bear to be in her presence anymore." His curt explanation more or less matched up with what he told her in the dungeons, Brienne noted.

"You really abandoned her amid an imminent Targaryen invasion, unless you'd have us believe that Cersei doesn't consider her a threat to her crown," Arya countered and Jaime only raised his eyebrows. "We're more like to believe that you've been sent here to infiltrate and spy on us for her."

Unexpectedly, Jaime barked out a sharp laugh. "HA! She may have her many faults, but my sister would have never sent the Kingslayer out for fucking espionage. Besides, if anyone here in this thrice damned castle is here for dubious purposes, it's that lecher Littlefinger. Gods only knows why you've kept that man around long enough for him to plot your downfall behind your back and whisper chaos in your ear," Jaime confidently replied, smug in his comeback. A sense of vindication overcame Brienne as she heard his suspicions, validated that her doubts about Baelish were shared. The man who sold Lady Sansa to the Boltons was not to be trusted and although Jaime didn't know about that, at least he knew who Lord Baelish really was.

Sansa and Arya traded tense looks, seemingly unsure now that they've been called out. "Lord Baelish is here on behalf of the Vale and has pledged his support for House Stark. He counsels me as he sees fit and I have not yet found fault with him, despite his reputation. But back to the matter at hand.... let's say we take your word for it, that you actually left Cersei on your own volition. If we were to let you go, would you return to her and lead your forces here in retaliation?"

"The chances of that are very slim, seeing as I have no desire to return to her and there would probably be no troops for me to command because they would all be too preoccupied with the invasion. And even if they weren't," Jaime hesitated and briefly glanced to Brienne before saying, "I'm afraid the North is too cold and dreary for me to willingly come back."

A feeling of hope rushed through Brienne, though it was slightly marred with his last statement. On the off chance the Stark sisters decided to release him, it would be very likely Brienne would never see him again, only the knowledge that Jaime was safe in the south would be of some comfort to her.

Arya turned to face her abruptly. "And what of Lady Brienne?"

Brienne's eyes widened in shock and she turned to see that Jaime mirrored her expression. "What of her?" Jaime asked back sharply.

Lady Sansa also turned to her sister, an equal parts interested and questioning look on her face. Arya shifted to sit up and lean forward in her seat before she answered. "I just want to know what can possibly possess a woman of such virtue and honor to staunchly vouch for your life. Lady Brienne was a sworn sword to our mother and is now one to us, fought the Hound for me without question, found and protected Sansa yet here she sits, Lannister sword at her hip and cutting your meat into smaller bites for you."

A deep blush burned on Brienne's face as soon Arya's rebuttal finished. It certainly didn't help things when both her and Ser Jaime spoke at the same time.

"My ladies, I know how things must look but let me assure you, I have been nothing but loyal-"

"I thought I was on trial here, not Lady Brienne-"

Lady Sansa raised her hand to silence them both, an odd mix of irritation and amusement on her face. "Alright, that's enough. Lady Brienne, neither of us here are doubtful of your steadfastness in your allegiance to House Stark, but if what I understand at what Arya is hinting at here, is perhaps..." Sansa trailed off, struggling to articulate her words correctly. "The possibility of your divided loyalties between our House and Ser Jaime."

Brienne was simultaneously at a loss for words whilst stuttering to counter her claims. However before she could even start, Jaime spoke up again.

"Well, let me the first to reassure you of Brienne's loyalty. And it would be a half truth to say that she carries a Lannister sword, for the Valyrian steel used to make it and mine, before it was so rudely confiscated, was made from Ned Stark's own sword."

"Ice," both Stark sisters gasped aloud then turned to each other. Brienne's hand fell down to grip Oathkeeper's pommel, having never once forgotten the original swords form and owner.

"I knew Oathkeeper looked familiar," Arya spoke lowly in realization. "Whenever we sparred, I just couldn't exactly place it."

"The fault is mine, I neglected to mention its origins to both of you," Brienne deferred and Lady Sansa stood up and walked away to her desk, reached inside it for something. She walked back to the table with Widow's Wail in both hands, holding it almost reverently. 

"Two halves of the same sword," Sansa spoke in awe, her Tully blue eyes shiny and almost content.

For a while, the room was silent and contemplative, the only sounds to be heard was the firewood crackling and burning. Brienne stared down Lady Sansa, having no idea about what this could mean for Jaime's position but she could see the wheels turning in her lady's head, thoughts and decisions forming in her head.

Just then, a knock came at the door and Sansa laid Widow's Wail back down then moved to answer it. The same kitchen servants came to collect their empty plates and dinnerware but Sansa held one of them back and said, "Send in the guards to take Ser Jaime back to his cell."

Jaime turned to look at her, his green eyes ripe with confusion and an emotion Brienne just couldn't quite decipher. If she knew any better, she would've described it as a look of longing.

The household guards entered and roughly jerked Jaime up, chaining his hand and wrist and his ankles together. "Please escort Ser Jaime back to his cell," Sansa calmly commanded them then turned to address Jaime only. "We have yet to make a decision about your fate but with the information learned tonight, it will be reached soon enough."

He nodded shakily and looked back at all of them then left with the guards. Lady Sansa shut the door behind them and heaved out a heavy sigh. She turned around, walked straight to Brienne and sat down where Jaime was sitting. 

"Tell us everything."

Chapter Text

That night, Jaime touches himself to feel something. Anything, really.

Back in his cell, he figured that the dinner with the Starks wasn't a complete disaster but Jaime's fate was still left up in the air. He had felt the coldness radiate off of the two Stark girls sat in front of him but the warmth of Brienne comforted him in a most unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome, way. 

Almost unthinkingly, Jaime unlaced his breeches and rubbed himself over his smallclothes. He replayed the memory of Brienne methodically cutting his steak into small bites, her pale blonde lashes fluttering and eyebrows furrowed in concentration over those astonishing blue eyes. The recollection of her standing up in the bath they shared years ago also flashed through his mind as his cock hardened, a very wet Brienne standing up in all her righteous fury, uncaring of her nakedness. It used to cause Jaime great shame for thinking these thoughts about her while committing this act before but with the possibility of a very public execution waiting for him, he really couldn't care less. Jaime shoved down his smallclothes, grasped his cock firmly and stroked himself to completion.

Jaime drifted off to sleep afterwards, wrapping himself in the meager blanket they gave him to ward off the harsh Northern chill but the warm food in his belly helped for once. He had an odd dream, a recurring one for the last few days. He was in a field with Brienne, an idyllic meadow of sorts with flora and fauna and a distant sea beyond them. Brienne was happy and smiling and so was he, a true happiness he hadn't felt in a long time. A dream of spring.

The next day passed by uneventfully, with the guards wordlessly passing him a mid-morning meal to break his fast and Jaime had no visitors. He didn't expect Brienne to drop by after last night but it was nice to see Podrick, how the lad had changed from a boy to a man grown. The sun was fast setting as the day came to a close then Jaime heard something unexpected outside his cell after his supper had been passed to him.

 Heavy footsteps approached and a voice Jaime didn't expect to hear that day ordered the guards. "Open the cell and unchain Ser Jaime. It's Lady Sansa's order for me to see him to the Godswood tonight."

Jaime sprung to his feet, shocked to see Brienne standing on the other side. The guards hesitated then obliged with the odd request. "Step back, Kingslayer," one of them ordered as they keyed open his cell door.

The other guard stepped in and unchained his hand and wrist, walking back out to Brienne. "We will be here if you need any assistance, Lady Brienne." She nodded, then turned to Jaime and jerked her head at him to approach.

He tentatively walked out his cell, unsure of what exactly was happening here. Brienne quietly led him away at a slow pace, through the courtyard of Winterfell with snow crunching beneath their feet. “Ask what you'd like now, Jaime.”

”Have they decided on a late night execution for me? Put my head on the walls for the morning crows to peck out?” Jaime questioned sardonically.

Brienne sighed heavily, her arm brushing against his. “No, Jaime, they’ve decided to let you live for now.”

“So what’s all this then? Why the Godswood and why now? I once heard that Lady Sansa used to be a young, fanciful romantic, is she taking us to her Godswood to marry us or something?”

Jaime turned to look at Brienne’s reaction, her cheeks blushing slightly at the insinuation. He liked seeing her blush. She stammered out the beginnings of a reply but ultimately said nothing.

He returned to face forward, looking at the bright red leaves on the unnerving grey tree in front of them. “What happened last night after I left?”

Brienne shrugged and replied, “Lord Bran joined us then they asked about our time together, from getting captured to Harrenhal to King’s Landing. I told them truthfully of every detail, everything.”

He winced at the thought of the Starks knowing of their painful plight with the Boltons and of his struggle with the recovery from the loss of his sword hand. “And because of your testimony, they’re letting me live?”

"Arya wanted your head but Lady Sansa and Bran were hesitant, they want to hear more of what you have to say first," Brienne said, nodding her head towards the aforementioned siblings standing at their place of worship. With them stood an unfamiliar girl around the same age as Lady Sansa, standing protectively behind Bran's wheelchair. Lady Arya stood beside them carrying Widow's Wail in its sheath. They finally reached and Jaime declined his head towards them respectfully, still unsure of what this was.

"Good evening Ser Jaime," Bran greeted softly. "How has your day been?"

"Uneventful, I guess," Jaime replied uneasily, realizing this is the same boy he had pushed out of the tower window so many years ago.

"I must apologize for my absence last night, I couldn't attend the dinner as I had other matters to see to," Bran said, a playful smirk on his face. "In both senses of the word." 

Jaime looked up for clarification and thankfully Lady Sansa came to his rescue. "During his travels beyond the Wall with Lady Meera, my brother became a greenseer, and calls himself the Three Eyed Raven."

He had heard of such people but greenseers were a rarity in the South, Jaime knew that for sure. Thankfully, Bran came to his rescue. "When I became the Three Eyed Raven, I was imbued with the power to view events in the past, present and future. Knowing what's to come and the important part you play in the future of Westeros, I could not, in good faith, let you be executed by my sisters."

The dual feelings of shock and confusion rippled through Jaime. He shot a skeptical look to Brienne but the hopeful look in her eyes made the relief in him swell up. "I am... grateful my lord, but you think I have important role play in the future?"

"No, I don't think, I know. I have foreseen it," Bran clarified firmly. "Last night, my sisters discovered that yours and Lady Brienne's blade were reformed from our ancestral House sword, our late father's own Ice." He gestured for the sword and Arya came forward and handed it to him. "I have foreseen this blade aflame next to its twin in this very spot. It was wielded by you in defense of me against a great enemy."

"What enemy, Bran?" Sansa worriedly asked him. "Was it the Lannisters?"

"An army of the dead. The great enemy Jon spoke of is real, he had encountered them beyond the Wall as had Meera and I," Bran recounted, fear apparent on his face. "They march on the Wall and will attack Winterfell within moons. Without realizing it, Ser Jaime has traveled here to make amends with our House and join in its defense against them."

Bran handed Widow's Wail to Jaime, who tentatively took it from him, speechless. "Twin swords reforged from Ned Stark's own to protect his children. Lady Brienne is protector and sworn shield to Sansa and Ser Jaime shall be the same to me."

Arya and Sansa protested immediately, even the unfamiliar girl Jaime assumed was the lady Meera, furrowed her eyebrows but Bran raised his hand to silence them. "It is foreseen and I have yet to see my greensight dreams not come into fruition. Ser Jaime, do you consent to being my sworn sword and shield?"

Jaime felt himself nod without realizing it and swallowed a huge knot in his throat. "Yes I do." He began to lower to one knee to recite the oath to him but Bran stopped him. 

"You can't swear yourself to me without other witnesses present. You will do so tomorrow in the Great Hall with all of Winterfell present. For now, you will kneel and pray to our gods. Unload your guilt and pray for forgiveness, for absolution, for redemption and whatever else you desire."

The others stepped back as Jaime stepped forward and knelt on the cold snow. The words automatically came flowing in his mind and out of his heart, all of his sins and burdens and vices he had held in for the last twenty years. Jaime prayed, for forgiveness to those he wronged directly. Eddard, Catelyn, Robb, Rickon, Rickard, Brandon, for contributing to their demise. Sansa, Arya, Jon and Bran, for being part of the reason why they are the last of their family. Robert, Stannis and Renly, for creating a rift between brothers by maintaining the lie of Joffrey's parentage. Kevan, Margaery, Loras, Mace, and everyone else who perished that day for not avenging their deaths when he had the chance. Myrcella, for not protecting his sweet girl and being the father she deserved. Tommen, for not appreciating him enough in life and not mourning him enough in death. Joffrey, for not mentoring him and teaching him right from wrong when he had the chance. Tywin, for shirking his duty and not taking his rightful place as son and heir sooner. Rhaella, Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon, for not defending them in their time of need. Every Stark soldier he had cut down in cold blood, for not coming clean with his role in the war they were fighting.

Jaime prayed for forgiveness to those he wrong indirectly. The orphans he had created when he stroked between Cersei's legs. The nameless soldiers, the ransacked villages, towns and castles, the raped women, the proxy conquests spawned from the lie he maintained as the war pervaded through every corner of Westeros. Jaime prayed for absolution, his soul most of all, he prayed for redemption and reclamation of identity. Not the Golden Lion of Casterly Rock, not the Kingslayer or the sister-fucker, not Lord Commander or even a knight of the Kingsguard. He was Ser Jaime of House Lannister, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms.

He brushed away a sole tear as he finished his prayer and stood up, facing the group. The look of pride on Brienne's face almost made another tear fall and he shared a shy smile with her, feeling unencumbered for the first time in years.

"Come Ser Jaime, you will sleep in the castle tonight," Bran specified as Meera turned his chair around. "Lady Brienne will show you to your quarters."

The group began to walk away, trudging through the snow back to the castle. Jaime turned around to look back at the weirwood tree, at the ghastly face carved into the wood, and for what felt like the first time in forever, all Jaime could feel was hope.