Jaime is alive. When he appears at Winterfell with hopes of winning back his true love, Brienne, events do not exactly unfold as he had planned. What will Jaime find when he faces Brienne for the first time since leaving her on that fateful night...
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Jaime stood motionless as Podrick quietly closed the door of Brienne's chamber behind him. It took only moments for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dim light from the hearth which bathed the interior in a warm and welcoming glow. How well he remembered the nights spent there in Brienne's loving arms. Like Jenny of the Oldstones, he had never wanted to leave.
'But you did leave, you fool.' Jaime's own thoughts chastised him.
He stood sadly, watching Brienne sleep, as he had done those nearly six moons before. On that last fateful night he had forced himself to find the courage to abandon the woman he loved. Now, he fought himself for the strength to face her, to explain his actions and confess all he had done. Slowly, a weary but satisfied sigh floated from his lungs. Perhaps he truly had lost Brienne's love forever, but she was alive and safe. It was not an outcome he could have guaranteed if Cersei's life were not taken by the bricks under which he had dragged her. He had kept the Queen of his heart protected. Jaime knew that once Brienne decreed the course of his future, it might be the only comfort he would know.
Trembling with hope and dread, Jaime took a tentative step foward to where Brienne lay. She rested only inches from him, her form enveloped in a thick dark fur. Her shoulders rose and fell with the soft rhythm of sleep. She seemed an angel, oblivious to the troubles of the world. Jaime longed to slip beneath the blankets with her and revel in the feeling of his maid in his arms, just as he had done each night over the glorious weeks they were together. All the while the nerves beneath his skin yearned for her, Jaime felt wholly unworthy to be in Brienne's presence.
On the edge of his awareness Jaime noticed a small nondescript chair positioned near Brienne on the other side of the bed. It must have been left there by The Maester or Queen Sansa as they sat vigil at her side. Methodically, he made his way around the mattress to where Brienne was turned. He smiled to himself recalling all the nights she had succumbed to her slumber and turned exhausted and spent onto her left side. Jaime's heart danced thinking of the many hours he had clung to her, his arms wrapped around her slender frame, and his face nestled into her neck. He onced belonged in her bed, now it was a right he would have to earn back, if she would allow it.
As he rounded the footboard, at last he could discern the precious features of Brienne's face. The breath stilled in his chest, as it did each time he beheld her. Even before he was certain he loved Brienne, Jaime had reacted to her as if she held his life in her hands. By the time he realized the truth in the sentiment, there was nothing he would not do for her. Sacrificing his own life to keep her safe, had been but a small price to pay.
Without making a sound Jaime settled onto the chair, his gaze never leaving Brienne's face. For the first time in many terrible weeks, Jaime felt as if he could finally breathe again. Every step he had taken from Brienne's side, had led him back to her. Surely, that had to mean they were bound to each other. Jaime wanted to believe the Gods had meant for all of it to occur, for him to prove the all consuming love which burned in his heart only for Brienne. His only trouble now was to convince her of it. Jaime had wanted to make Brienne hate him on the cold night in the courtyard, so desperately afraid he was that she would follow him to her death. His own death was practically assured, he would not add the loss of her life to his sins. As he lost himself sitting guard at her bedside this night, he prayed he had not been truly successful in that venture, that some small part of her could still find love for him. It was all he could hope.
