What Was Left

Chapter 19

"Jaime!" Brienne screamed over the clamor of the battle that raged around her, suddenly oblivious to anything but the bloodied and motionless form of the man she loved in her arms. Her sobs sounded in her own ears louder than any of the shouts from the men who surrounded her. All around her King Bran's men fought valiantly within the Red Keep to hold back the encroaching Essosi soldiers. However, her world lay still and dying within her grasp. The enemy was slowly gaining an advantage over Jaime's own troops as he lay bleeding.

"Please don't leave me, again." Brienne begged as she cradled Jaime's face next to hers. "I love you." She confessed. "I never stopped loving you, not for a single moment." She swore. Brienne could not bear his death a second time.

As if in some tragically joyous response to Brienne's admission, Jaime moaned lowly and stirred in her grasp. A cry of desperation caught in her throat, and Brienne looked hopefully into his expressionless face. His eyes were yet closed, but she could hear his breathing. The rasp of Jaime's sigh sounded into her ear. She felt the shallow rise and fall of his shoulders as he struggled for breath. "That's it. That's it My Love." Brienne asserted. "Fight! Fight for us." She pleaded. "I shall not accept your sacrifice, not this time." She vowed, laying him back onto the ground.

Frantically Brienne tore Jaime's blood soaked tunic from his torso and used Oathkeeper to slice jagged pieces from the garment. These she carefully packed into the wound left by the Essoi's vicious blade. Brienne knew the bleeding had to be stopped, but prayed that she was not doing more harm as she shoved the fabric strips deep inside Jaime's ribs. He protested slightly at the pain, but then fell silent again. Any tension that remained in his muscles left him, his body going limp in her arms. It was then Brienne allowed her gaze to rise from her urgent work to behold the horrific sight ahead of her. The Essosi had breached the fortress wall. All around her King Bran's soldiers lay dead and dying. There were more than she could ever hope to sustain or even comfort. The invaders had gained control the Red Keep.

Of one thing Brienne was certain. She had to get Jaime out of there. Brienne imagined there was nothing some young Essosi, eager to make a name for himself, would consider a greater badge of honor than parading around the head of the great Kingslayer mounted upon a spike. She shook the horrible vision from her brain, and decided her course. The enemy would get no part of him, Brienne promised herself as something from deep within her made her retrieve Widows Wail from where it had fallen at Jaime's side. She sheathed the prized weapon in his scabbard before grabbing him tightly to her once more. She would not allow his death again, not while there was breath left in her body. Brienne was determined to see Jaime out of the Keep.

Defiantly she rose, hatred in her eyes. Disdain for those who would steal the life of her beloved, who had nearly cost that of her son, drove Brienne onward. She was an unstoppable force, as she hooked one arm across Jaime's chest and pulled him toward the same gate from which they had sent Galladon away only a few hours before. Wielding Oathkeeper before her, Brienne shielded his still frame with her own body. She prayed that her escape would not worsen his injuries. Brienne was the strongest woman in Westeros, yet he was a grown man and she was already laden with armor. The effort brought a strained groan from her throat. Slowly Brienne dragged a Jaime across the courtyard, dodging enemy blows as she went, nearly screaming from the torment in her own muscles. She would not stop.

Each step was an agony of both body and soul for Brienne. Her heart writhed in terror within her chest. Never in all the battles she fought had she ever known such fear. Never had she ever wavered, never had her hands ever shook. However, Brienne had never before clutched the body of the one she loved, the father of her child, imagining she could feel the life draining from him. Her very bones shouted at her for relief from the burden of hefting Jaime's frame with her aching muscles. Yet, Brienne's singular focus was keeping him alive. There was nothing she would not do, nothing that would halt her steps.

Brienne peered down to check the well-being of her precious charge as she hoisted him through the heaps of fallen bodies. Unable to hold her anger within any longer, Brienne turned it to will power. "Don't you dare die on me, Jaime Lannister!" She ordered. "Not again!" She commanded through teeth gritted in determination.

As if the Heavens themselves had parted and shined a guiding light upon her path, Brienne looked up and spied a lone horse ahead of them. It's hair singed and blood stained, the beast stood almost waiting for them, watching Brienne's impeded progress. Renewed with hope, she trudged harder toward the majestic animal. In her final steps, with the last of her energy, Brienne nearly collapsed at the horse's feet as she settled Jaime on the ground. Fighting with all of her might, she reached up and grabbed a handful of mane to steady the animal. She whispered comforting words and patted its jaw to reassure the frightened mount that she would do it no harm. Finally, trusting that the horse would not bolt, Brienne took hold of the reigns that hung from the leather harness around its head.

Satisfied that she had secured a strong enough seat upon which to make their escape, Brienne bent to tend to Jaime. It was then that an unseen Essosi soldier sprang from the shadows, his blade lowered toward Brienne's throat. She spun quickly, Oathkeeper at the ready and met the assailant's thrust with forceful block that sent the man crashing backwards. Brienne wasted no time in following. She jumped boldly ahead, desperate to protect Jaime, slashing Oathkeeper wildly in front of her. Brienne gave her foe no time to recover, but set upon him fiercely. His eyes glinted at the flames in her own. Through the dirt and sweat which covered them both she noted that the invader who was so intent on ending her life could have been no older that Podrick. She allowed her mind and heart a moment to ponder the whereabouts of her young friend. Brienne prayed he had escaped The Keep safely with King Bran. She lamented that it seemed so many wars had been fought upon the backs of children

The idea brought her own babe to mind, as her sword flashed in the orange glow of the burning Keep. Brienne's heart hallowed at the thought of Galladon. He seemed now so far from her, and she hoped with of her heart that he was. She knew that Samwell and Gilly Tarly would care for him, fight to the last for him if need be, but how she wished to be with him. Suddenly Brienne was impassioned by the rage that the army which her opponent served was the cause of the forced separation from her child. She felt emboldened by her resolve to help Jaime and see Galladon again.

Brienne charged fearlessly against the enemy's steel. She had fought much worse, a simple Essosi youth would not best her. In the moonless fiery night their swords clashed, the seasoned warrior and novice. One hoped for glory, the other needed survival. For a few harrowing moments Brienne and the Essosi struggled in a hopeless volley. Steel rang out over the shouts and clamor of the overrun Keep. At last, Brienne could abide no more delay. If she and Jaime did not make there escape soon, their hopes of finding safe passage would be gone. With all the skill of a practiced hand, Brienne found her opening. As the man raised his blade to block her strike, she pivoted and changed her angle of attack before the soldier could anticipate her movement. Oathkeeper ripped through the man's torso, spilling most of the content of his chest onto the ground. His face registered only the slightest awareness as he fell.

Brienne had no time to bask in her victory. Jaime Iay dying only paces away. Without pause, Brienne hurried back to him, and lifted him to sit upon the cold blood soaked ground. Jaime's head fell forward, his muscles useless. Brienne braced his neck against her shoulder, and clamped her arm around his waist. In one groaning motion Brienne stood and shoved him upright against the horse's side. She kicked her foot into the stirrups at the horse's side and raised herself into the saddle, dragging Jaime the rest of the way along with her. Gasping in near exhaustion she took hold of the reigns.

For a brief moment Brienne caught site of what was left of King Bran's men. The few who remained standing were fast losing their valiant efforts to turn the tide. Essosi were everywhere, what they were not stealing, they were destroying. She could hear the screams of servant women from within the castle as they were violated. Her stomach turned to think that she knew most of the dead, dying, and lost. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined fleeing from her duty. Abandoning her troops was far worse than dying with them, but loosing Jaime was a fate she knew all too well. She would give up everything for his life. As he had once done for her.

With a bitter curl of her lip, Brienne took one last look at the chaos that now ruled within the walls of the Red Keep, and let a mournful sigh escape her throat. 'I will be executed for this.' She thought reproachfully. Then, Jaime stirred in her arms.

He said nothing, did not open his eyes. He merely showed a tiny glimmer of life. It meant everything to her. For Brienne in that moment, no sacrifice was too great. Urgently, she pulled the horse to the side and kicked him to a gallop. Within minutes, she was racing through the Barbican and out into the pandemonium of the city streets, protecting Jaime and spiriting him away from destruction of The Keep.
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Brienne traveled through the night and half of the next day along the Kings Road south of the Capital. Somehow she had managed to get herself and Jaime out of the city, which was on the verge of imploding. When she closed her eyes she could remember distinctly the face of every terrified citizen who had stared up at her as she escaped the madness of the city beset by invaders. She wished there could have been something more she could have done to help them. Yet, Brienne also recalled the sickening moment that the Essosi assailant's weapon had sliced into Jaime's flesh.

The split second of realization that he had willingly taken a blade meant for her. The sickening sound of Jaime's body falling to the ground. The relieved look in his failing eyes when he knew she was unharmed. All of it swirled in Brienne's memory, torturing her every stride forward. During the night she had watched Jaime slowly slip further from her, until by morning his skin held the sallow pale shade of death, and his breathing was barely discernible. Drawing the horse to a walk in order to rest her only means of transport, Brienne was nearly out of her mind with worry and grief.

At the same time Brienne was overwhelmed with fear for Jaime, her heart was bursting in agony for Galladon. She had departed from Kings Landing with her wounded love but a few hours after the Tarly's wagon had departed with their child. Her pace had been so swift Brienne hoped that perhaps there was a chance of reaching the little wagon as it hastened away from the fighting. As the hours passed with no sight of them, she tried to take comfort believing they were far ahead and on their way to safety. Now, as the time stretched on, and her own body ached to nourish her babe, Brienne feared the worst had occured. Her entire world would crumble if she were to lose either Galladon or Jaime. It was an outcome Brienne refused to contemplate, but one that loomed ominously at the edge of her thoughts.

By the time the sun reached its zenith in the sky the next day, Brienne became painfully aware that she could travel no further. The horse was near collapsing from want of water and rest, and was already balking at her commands to continue. It was the change in Jaime that caused Brienne to worry the most. He lay motionless against Brienne in the saddle. His skin had turned almost transparent and his lips blue from loss of blood, although he burned with fever. With her own body fighting exhaustion, and her hope failing, Brienne brought the horse to a stop beside the sluggish trickle of a dwindling stream.

Gently, Brienne pulled Jaime from the horse, and settled him softly upon the carpet of decaying leaves that blanketed the forest. Next to the tiny brook, she removed the gaunlets that covered her hands and discarded them carelessly onto the ground. She then reached under the vambrance of her left forearm to rip a rough section of fabric from her tunic. She soaked the woven strip in the dark water and rushed back to Jaime's side. Falling to her knees beside him, Brienne cleaned the grime from his face, and soothed his fevered brow with the cool cloth. By her calculation, she deciphered that they were somewhere between Felwood and Haystack Hall, which meant they were still over a week's ride from the coast of the Stormlands, and an eternity away from Evenfall. Jaime would never make it.

Brienne's tears flowed unhindered down her cheeks as she clutched Jaime's hand, and bent close to face. "Please, My Love." She beseeched him. "Don't give up. I will think of something." She vowed to him, although her own heart twisted in her chest with disbelief. A sinking dread plagued her as she moved to check the roughshod packing with which she had dressed his wound. Before she could remove the first blood soaked layer from the gash in his side, Brienne's attention was caught by the sound of a twig snapping behind her.

Urgently, Brienne held in the gasp which threatened to signal her surprise. She whirled around to face whomever it was that had managed to catch her unawares, drawing Oathkeeper to the ready, eager to spring. Defiantly, she stood over Jaime's body, ready to defend him with her own life. She expected some strong armored traveler, or a fierce Essosi follower bent on blood lust. What met her questioning eyes was as far from either as a living being could have been.

A shriveled and bent old woman stood only a few paces from Brienne along the path she had just ridden. She appeared not more than a beggar in her worn rags, her gray matted hair was roughly sliced to shoulder length. In the dim light of the overgrown trees the woman's skin appeared in places yellow and in others green. She smiled at Brienne with an unsettling toothless grin.

"Beggin' your pardon." The stranger offered in an accented tone that had not known its native language in many years. She held up her hands in yield to Oathkeeper's tip. "I mean no harm, My Lady." The ancient eyes smiled at Brienne all too knowingly from within their cover of wrinkles.

Brienne's suspicions remained at their height as she stared warily at the old woman. She was certain there had been no one near only a few moments before. "Who are you?" She demanded.

The woman's expression softened a bit. "Merely one who has seen your distress and wishes only to help." She answered with a kindness that hinted at a deeper reason.

"You followed us?" Brienne accused, not persuaded by the old soul's pleasantries.

"My Dear, that would, take far more strength than I have in these old bones." The old beggar waved her hands across the front of her rags to show that she had barely the strength to stand let alone purse an able-bodied knight on horseback.

Brienne knodded, seeing the woman's reasoning. "Where did you come from?" She continued.

"These woods are my home." The elderly interloper's gaze traveled up to the canopy of leaves that shaded them from above. It was then that Brienne noticed the otherworldly yellow cast of her eyes.

Brienne stance stiffened. "These are The King's woods." She corrected, unsure how the woman came to take up residence upon royal lands.

The old woman wavered as she chuckled. "These trees and shadows have sheltered me since long before Brandon Stark came to Kings Landing." She smiled almost fondly. "I take nothing from The Crown. I harm no one." She assured Brienne. "The King is aware of my presence here. He has not asked me to leave." She explained vaguely.

Brienne's brow furrowed in realization. "You are a woods witch." She stated, alarmed.

The old woman smiled comfortingly. "I am but a simple healer." She affirmed, neither confirming, nor denying Brienne assumption.

"A healer?" Brienne's heart skipped a beat. She hoped the stranger did not notice the hope that flashed upon her face, or the way her head turned almost reflexively in Jaime's direction. From the way the woman's eyes traveled to where he lay still upon the ground, it was clear she had already deduced Brienne's dilemma.

"It appears you are in need of my skills." The woman said, a hint of concern in her tone. Her experienced stare washed over Jaime, already trying to determine the extent of his injuries.

Brienne eye's grew damp at the thought of Jaime's wound. She desperately wanted to beg the woman for help, but did not yet trust her. Although he was very close to death, she would not risk his life to an unknown squatter. "I..." She began, uncertain how much to say. "We.." she trailed off as the elder brushed nonchalantly past Oathkeeper and headed to examine Jaime. Brienne turned and followed at her heels.

With an exaggerated sigh, the old woman knelt to inspect Jaime's wound. Brienne bristled as if it pained her to watch the woman's filthy fingers probe the bloody mess of Jaime's ribs. The healer's hands seemed skilled enough as she twisted another layer of packing from the deep gaping gash, raising it to her nose and sniffing deeply. Brienne noticed a frown paint the dry crusted features that no longer smiled.

With a groan of effort, the woman stood to face Brienne. "The wound has become infected." The healer announced. "He will die." She determined.

In that, Brienne lost all attempts to control her demeanor. "No." She blurted out through tears she could not hold at bay. "Please. Please. You have to help him." She begged. "I will do anything." Brienne promised, frantically.

The woman studied Brienne's plaintiff expression for a moment. Then she seemed pleased. She looked deep into Brienne's troubled eyes, and reached to touch her hand. Brienne imagined she felt a charge of warmth pass between the elderly woman's fingertips and her own flesh. "Yes." The old urchin nodded. "Younger, more beautiful." She whispered to herself with a far away smile.

"What?" Brienne only faintly heard the words the woman had spoken. At any other time she would have raged at the use of the word which had been leveled as an insult her entire life. However, now, she was far too consumed with worry and grief over Jaime to care what words the healer chose to describe her.

The woman patted Brienne's hand. "Bring him." She ordered, and stood back while Brienne again hefted Jaime upon the horse and climbed onto the saddle, ready to follow the stranger deeper into the woods.
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The witch led Brienne through the trees for what seemed like hours. The longer they rode, the thicker and more dense the woods became. Jaime did not stir as he laid nestled against Brienne the way he had at Harrenhal, when he had fallen unconscious into her grasp. In places the horse had to be coaxed to wedge itself between the wide trunks of the ancient timbers. It was a marvel that the stooped and gnarled old woman was able to keep her gate steady beside them.

At last they arrived at what appeared to be the old woman's dwelling, although such a term could only be applied loosely to the tiny hovel of a shack which sat overgrown with vines on the bank of a curving stream. The walls had been erected of a strange combination of bark and the remnants of a tent. The thatched roof was more patch than reeds. So small was the structure that Brienne was not sure she would even be able to stand straight within its confines.

Her elderly escort said nothing, simply motioned Brienne to follow as she hurried into the hut. Fighting against her own sore and complaining muscles, Brienne once again pulled Jaime from their mount and dragged him toward the entrance of the little house. Fearful that she had already moved him too often, Brienne's concern grew as she felt a fresh rush of his blood over her hand. Warily, she entered the darkened refuge.

Inside Brienne found little to calm her fears. The light cast by what could barely be described as a hearth was far too dim to see clearly. However, what her adjusting eyes could discern clearly gave the impression that her benefactress was well practice in not only the healing arts, but the dark ones as well. Brienne's stomach tightened with the fear of what she had brought Jaime into. She had no choice, she could not mend him in her own, and if the old woman could help, she would have to overlook the more questionable aspects of her character.

"Lay him on the bed." The woman spoke commandingly without raising her eyes from gathering necessities and implements from around the small one room abode.

Brienne did as she was bid, making her way through the stings of dried objects that hung from the ceiling. She prayed they had once been vegetation, and not animal in nature. Dusty jars and crockery filled every empty space of the home's interior, and the thick smell of spices hung in the air. Brienne barely noticed any of it. Her attentions were riveted on caring for Jaime. She laid him softly upon the pile of quilts she assumed was the bed. He shuddered as if in pain, but moved no further. Neither did he open his eyes as Brienne knelt beside him and smoothed back his soiled, sweat soaked hair. Her face lined with worry, she clung to him perhaps more to steady herself than even to comfort him. She was unsure if he knew she was there, and held fast to the hope of his awareness. Brienne did not realize that her fingers were clutching the rounded edges of his stumped arm. Here, in a situation so like that in which he had lost that hand, the gesture seemed somehow fitting.

As Brienne fought to hold back her tears, her hostess at last settled in at her side. The woman laid a surprisingly clean cloth upon the threadbare mattress. Brienne pulled Jaime's arm up to his shoulder, but did not release her grip, staring with dread at the knives and other sharp instruments the rag held. Her gasp caught in her throat, imagining the purposes of the dreadful items.

"Worry not, My Dear." The old woman said, sensing Brienne's fear. Her yellow eyes not leaving her work. "I will do my very best for him." She promised, as if she already knew Jaime.

Brienne nodded, and swallowed hard. Suddenly she needed a deeper connection with the woman who held Jaime's life in her wrinkled old hands. "What is your name?" She whispered.

"I have been called many things." The woman chuckled, still deeply intent upon her work. "Some have sought me for healing, some for trading." She smiled. "There are those who have come to me to learn their future." Brienne thought she saw the corners of the old woman's mouth rise in a smirk. "And some have declared me a witch." She described direly. Brienne held her breath, again regretting allowing this person anywhere near Jaime.

As if reading her apprehension, the old woman paused her examination of Jaime's wound, and smiled sweetly, almost innocently, at Brienne. "You may call me Maggie." She offered with a smile.
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After their introduction the old witch, Maggie, set to work cleaning Jaime's wound. She worked quickly but steadily, sure of her skills and her diagnosis. Brienne assumed the role of assistant. Before she realized her shaking hands began to provide the help the old woman needed to heal Jaime, gathering instruments at the ready, discarding soiled bandages, and holding back layers of festering skin. For a moment, Brienne was not afraid. There was purpose now. She had declared her love to Jaime, and she would not loose him again. She would not allow him to give up. He had been willing to give his life to protect her. This time she, would fight for him.

At last, as evening turned to the darkness of night, Maggie finished stitching Jaime's ribs closed, and laid aside her blades and needles. She swabbed the wound with a dark foul smelling salve, and pressed a clean cloth to the incision. Brienne settled a worn quilt around his fevered body, and exhaled nervously. The worry and fear had returned to her.

Maggie gave Brienne an understanding smile, and braced her hands upon the edge of the mattress as she rose to her feet. "It will be a long night." She said softly, patting Brienne's shoulder. "You should remove your armor, My Dear. You will be more comfortable." The old woman suggested.

Never taking her eyes from Jaime's still face, Brienne nodded. The logic in Maggie's proposal was undeniable. "Perhaps you're right." She agreed, beginning to loosen the leather straps on her shoulders.

While Maggie left the hut to dispose of the remnants of her work, Brienne stood and removed her steal plates, and untied the laces of her gambeson. Her eyes misted with tears as her body, now freed from the confines of her armor, begged for the relief of feeding Galladon. Brienne could hear the scream of her own heart as it searched hopelessly for her child. She prayed he was safe, and that she would be reunited with him soon.

Although Brienne pulled off the vestiges of her knightly station, Oathkeeper she kept securely fastened at her waist. It was not that she felt she had anything to fear from old healer in whose home she was now a reluctant guest. She was now almost certain there was nothing to fear for the kindly old healer. Somehow it felt wrong to remove Jaime's gift from her side, as if some link between them would be broken. As she stacked the pieces of her armor at the foot of the bed and turned to make her way back to Jaime's side, Maggie returned to prepare for the night's shelter.

"Oh, My Dear." Maggie gasped, peering at Brienne with concern. "Where is your babe?" She questioned, alarmed.

Brienne stepped back from the elderly woman in shock. For a scant moment, she wondered how Maggie knew that she had a child. Then she felt the wetness streaking its way down the front of her tunic. She lowered her eyes to see the darkened lines trailing along the fabric from her breasts. It was very clear she was a nursing a mother. At that, her resolve to remain stoic failed her. Brienne's tears began to flow unhindered down her cheeks, thinking of her darling babe lost to her somewhere, hopefully heading to her father on Tarth.

"We...we sent our son ahead of us, away from the city. Kings Landing has fallen." Brienne sniffed, battling her emotions not to gain the better of her.

Maggie's gaze washed over Brienne's form. "Has it now?" She asked, seemingly unconcerned for the fate of their Capital. Her attentions were much more focused upon Brienne. "You poor child. You must be sick with worry." She took Brienne's hand and held it tightly.

"I, I have no idea if he is well, or frightened, or when I will..." Brienne began, her emotions pouring from her unintentionally. "Or if I will ever see him again." She voiced her worries to this stranger with whom, for some unknown reason, she felt completely comfortable. "I fear I will be dried by the time I find him." She said somberly.

Maggie was silent for a few ragged beats of Brienne's heart, deep in thought. "This is your husband, then?" She asked, turning her face toward Jaime, who lay deep in a healing slumber upon her bed.

Brienne turned a loving eye to his form. "We are not married." She corrected. "But he is the father of my child." She admitted, her face softening with her feelings for him. "We love each other very much." She found a tiny smile and reveled in proclaiming their bond.

Maggie nodded kindly. "What is your name, Dear?" She asked, her very presence somehow calming Brienne, as the old woman continued to clutch her fingers.

"Brienne. Ser Brienne of Tarth." The Evenstar's daughter announced, proudly exalting the title Jaime had bestowed upon her. "He is..." She began.

"He is the Kingslayer." Maggie interrupted, but without judgement in her tone. "I am aware of who he is." She assured.

Brienne felt her cheeks redden in anger, even over her confusion that Maggie already knew his identity. "His name is Ser Jaime." She would not abide anyone ever again placing upon him the hateful moniker under which he had suffered for so long. "Ser Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock." She raised her own head high with his introduction. "Master of War to King Bran's Small Council." Brienne concluded almost expecting some Heavenly sign to accompany the name of the man she loved.

Maggie lowered her head in friendly contrition. "Forgive me. I meant no disrespect." She conceded.

Brienne's ire cooled, deflating her indignation. "I am the one who should beg forgiveness." She cleared her throat. "I am a guest in your home." Brienne lowered her eyes. "You have already aided us more than I had any reason to hope." Her worried gaze traveled once more to Jaime.

Maggie smiled considerately. "There is no need." She told Brienne. "I have done no more than I am sure you would for someone in need." Her eyes seared into Brienne's own, as if she were reading her very soul. She nodded a grateful concession.

The old woman let go of Brienne's hand with a reassuring squeeze. "Go to your man's side now." She bid. "He needs you. I will prepare a tea for you that will sooth your need to nurse your babe." She told Brienne. "It will keep you ready for him, once you find him." She promised, then she raised her small gnarled fingers and took Brienne's chin softly in her hand. The intensity with which she stared into Brienne's eyes made the younger woman quiver with wonder, yet she could not look away.

"You will see your babe again." Maggie vowed. "Soon." She declared.

For some reason Brienne suddenly believed the woman. "Thank you." She whispered.

Maggie simply smiled, and turned Brienne toward Jaime. She then set about mixing the herbs for the tea she had described. Brienne rushed to the far side of the bed upon which Jaime lay fighting for life. Still not willing to lay all of her faith onto Maggie, Brienne positioned herself so that woman would not leave her sight throughout the long night to come. She sunk to the floor beside Jaime as her tears began to fall anew. She grasped his hand and held it firmly in her own strong fist as if she could somehow be a beacon in his darkness. After a short while Maggie returned with a steaming hollow gourd of a sweet dark liquid.

"Drink all of this rich tea." Maggie ordered. "I will make more for you in the morning," She said, the care evident in her voice.

Brienne nodded and tried to smile. "Thank you. I will." She answered, unsure why she trusted the woman, but her gut telling her she had nothing to fear. Then she turned her wary eyes up to the haggered old face that watched her, and motioned toward Jaime. "Will he live?" She beseeched the old woman.

Maggie studied her patient, and pressed her hand to Jaime's forehead. "The wound will heal, but the fever still rages." She informed Brienne. "I will try to lower the burning, but the rest is up to him." She gave Brienne a hopeful look, but one that seemed tinged with a dire warning before leaving to gather cold water with which to wash Jaime.

Brienne's breath felt thick and strange in her lungs. Her heartbeat slowed as if it were somehow connected to Jaime's own. She stared at his motionless frame and thought of all the things she wished she had told him. A tear slipped from her chin onto his fingers which she clutched close to her. Unable to bear the distance between them, Brienne raised her face to Jaime's and placed a soft kiss upon his lips.

"Please, My Love." She begged. "Don't leave me, again." She whispered.
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Jaime lay sweltering in fevered delerium for three days. Maggie worked unceasingly to cool his body and tend to his wound. As soon as she would cover him with cool wet sheets, the heat eminating from his skin would warm them until they were almost dry. She swabbed him with a mixture of something which smelled of mint and rum, and layered even more healing ointment over the incision in his ribcage. Throughout the weary hours, trapped somewhere within his own troubled mind, he would call out for Brienne and Galladon, as if he were searching for them. He thrashed, desperate to find the woman he loved and their child.

Brienne never left Jaime's side. She refused to remove her fingers from around his hand. "I am here." She reassured him. She would kiss his fingers, and touch his face, attempting to ease him through the hallucinations that plagued his recovery.

"My Dear. You must eat." Maggie worried over Brienne, bringing her a bowl of warm broth, on the third morning of Jaime's ordeal. She had refused both food and sleep, her own mind reeling with fear for both Jaime and Galladon. Caring for her child's father was the only thing she could do to keep from descending into madness.

"I fear I could not keep it down." Brienne sighed sadly trying to give Maggie the hint of a grateful smile. Her voice was a strained whisper, her eyes heavy as she cradled Jaime's hand next to her cheek. Meekly, she returned to her tortured vigil.
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The sun took a long path to it's zenith on the fourth day of Jaime's arduous recovery. The previous night had been the worst through which Jaime had suffered. So delirious he had been that Brienne feared the fever had taken his mind. Sweat poured from him like rain, and he grimaced in pain as he continued to call for those he loved. Brienne bolstered her hope in the knowledge that he never once spoke Cersei's name, even in his burning hysteria. Brienne did her best to keep her faith fresh by taking over Jaime's care from Maggie. She washed him, and changed the soaking bed linens. All the while, speaking soft soothing words of love to him. By the morning his fever had broken. As Brienne mopped his restless brow with a cool cloth, at last, Jaime opened his eyes.

Brienne gasped and melted into a loving overjoyed smile, her face close enough to his that the relieved tears which fell from her eyes splashed upon his cheek. "You have returned to me." She declared, staring deep into his exhausted gaze.

He graced her with a weak grin of his own, as he brought his hand to caress her face. "Was I gone that long?" He asked, hoarsely.

A shudder of laughter at Jaime's droll joke escaped her throat, and Brienne's eyes danced as a weight lifted from her heart. "Long enough." She nodded, and sweetly kissed him. Jaime relaxed into her tender embrace.

When they broke from their passionate greeting, Brienne helped Jaime settle onto the mattress. He tried to stretch the stiffness from his muscles but was halted by the pain in his side. Brienne quieted him with the touch of her hand upon his shoulder. "Do you remember what happened?" She asked, ready to relate the details of their ill fated attempt to defend the Red Keep.

Jaime pondered her question for a moment, recognition dawning on his face. Then he turned his head to her and smiled dreamily. "The last thing I recall, you told me you loved me." He said, envisioning Brienne's declaration as he lay bleeding on the battlefield. "Was that but a beautiful dream?" He teased.

Brienne blushed, but did not lower her eyes. "No. Beloved." She confessed. "It was not a dream." She beamed.

Jaime traced the angles of her precious features with his fingers, almost afraid the contact would cause her to vanish. "Than I have died and gone to the Heavens." His eyes filled with tears to accompany hers.

Brienne shook her head, nearly too overcome to speak. "Oh no." She asserted. "You are very much alive." She promised. "And I intend to keep you that way." Brienne vowed, nestling her head against his neck.

Even through the gnawing pain of his wound, Jaime basked in the feeling of Brienne next to him. He breathed in her scent and kissed her hair, sighing with as much deep contentment as his stitches would allow. Then he noticed his surroundings. The dark, dingy conditions of the forbidding little room in which he lay brought a million questions to his mind.

"Where have you brought me?" Jaime almost tried to chuckle in spite of his caution. As his eyes drifted around the dreary interior of the shack a guarded suspicion began to take hold of him. The only thing which kept him from bolting from the shabby pile of quilts which formed his sick bed was his trust in Brienne and the adoring way that she beheld him.

"A healer." She answered apprehensively. Of course Brienne realized how strange their refuge seemed. Under normal circumstances, she would have never suggested they shelter in such a place. However, there were few options on that dark night only days prior when she had ridden Jaime through the Kings Wood feeling his life slipping though her hands.

"A healer?" Jaime repeated lowly. "It appears more a witch's hovel." He remarked, his gaze settling upon the vials of colorful potions and piles of charms that were the tools of their host's craft. In a rush of understanding, Jaime tried to gasp in shock, his efforts again hampered by the tight pain in his side. "This is...a Woods Witch's shack?" He questioned Brienne, his expression turned suddenly dire.

Brienne's relief at Jaime's return to consciousness suddenly turned to despair. "I had no choice." She lamented. "You were dying. There was nowhere else." Her tears falling anew, Brienne could not force from her memory the fear of nearly losing Jaime a second time. "I would have done anything, taken you anywhere." She vowed.

Jaime had not meant to grieve her. She had watched over him, somehow gotten him out of the city overridden with invaders, and seen to his care. He had been returned to his lady love because of all she had done. "Brienne. Brienne." He quieted her, his fingers gently brushing her trembling lips. "I know." Jaime tried to, ease her mind. "I am not angry, merely concerned for your safety." He told her, worry shading his face.

Brienne sighed, and leaned into his hand. "I am alright, unharmed. I have not left your bedside." She assured him. "And Maggie has given you the best of care. She healed you." Brienne smiled.

"Maggie?" Jaime questioned, some distant memory beckoning at the back of his mind.

"Ah. I see you have awakened." The stooped old woman announced as she entered the hut, a small pile of firewood in her tottering arms. She appeared more a creature of the woods than a human, It was almost as if she had sensed Jaime's revival. Both he and Brienne turned to regard their host.

Maggie deposited the firewood near the hearth and limped to the bed, where she made no pleasant introductions but went about checking the bandage over Jaime's ribs, and feeling his skin for signs of heat. "The fever has lost its grip on you, Ser. I am happy to say." Her gray jagged smile was almost haunting as it accentuated her words.

Jaime could not place her face, but he was certain he had seen her somewhere before, and there was no doubt in his mind that her name had been spoken to him on some previous occasion. "Do I know you?" He inquired seriously, never releasing Brienne's hand.

"I cannot say that we have met, Ser." Maggie answered respectfully, but with a vague tone in her voice.

Jaime raised his chin in acceptance of the answer given by the person who had healed him, and then brought his confused eyes to Brienne once more. "Where are we?" He asked, willing to believe only her response.

Brienne's eyes grew wide with the image of holding him in the saddle, fearing his death with each step. "We are in the Kings Wood." She informed him. "I galloped as far as I dared the night I pulled you from The Keep." She recounted, the line between her eyes deepening. "You stepped infront of an Essosi soldier. You took the blade meant for me." Brienne choked, her eyes growing pained. "I brought you as far as the horse would carry us." She grasped his fingers tighter. "I feared you would..." Brienne could not finish, she could not voice the terror she had known at the thought of losing him.

Jaime pulled her to him with what strength he had, and kissed her forehead. "It is alright now, My Love." He whispered to her, wanting to give her some peace.

After seeing Brienne settled once more, Jaime eyed the ceiling. His brain working furiously. "What of the enemy? Have they managed to gain hold further inland?" He wished he had an army with which to meet the Essosi marauders he was sure were already winning footholds throughout the continent.

Brienne's face was as worried as his. "I have heard nothing. There are have been no riders, no scouts from either side." She reported.

"Strange." He pondered. "That could speak to any number of meanings." He and Brienne shared a worried look, neither wanting to voice the thoughts that passed between them. Yet, both fearing for their child, for Tarth, and for the King.

"I dare say there will not be much news this way." Maggie interjected. "We are far off the beaten path." She informed them.

Jaime gave Maggie a wary look. "How is it you come to reside upon the King's lands?" He inquired, dryly.

A wry laugh rose from the woman's throat. "I did not so much choose to reside here, as take refuge myself." She told him. "Long ago I read a grim future to someone. As you might expect, that person was not at all pleased." She nodded.

"I suppose not." Jaime interjected.

Maggie's eyes held a distant glower as she continued. "That young lady was powerful, very powerful, and very hateful." Her eyes snapped to Jaime as she spoke. "I thought it best to leave my situation there and move on, lest I hang for my own prophecy." Maggie shrugged as if it had been her only choice long ago. Jaime continued to search his memory for any sign of the wretched old face that now stood before him.

"But here? On Royal lands?" Brienne questioned beginning to wonder if she had been wrong to trust the old woman. "How is it you were allowed to stay?" She could not imagine the decrepit little shack had been overlooked.

A chortle nearly brought a cough from deep within Maggie's chest. "Oh. We are far on the edge of The Wood, very distant from the city." She described. "In his day King Robert found it quite useful to have such a discreet healer to tend to the afflictions he picked up from the whores in Flea Bottom." She explained. "Or they from him." She leered. "It was a mutual business arrangement." Maggie laughed. "And before him." She sneered. "The Mad King was a constant visitor to my home." Her gaze again settled uncomfortably over Jaime. "He was much guided by my readings for him." Jaime bristled at the name of the king who had died by his own blade.

"But what of King Bran? Surely he knows you are here." Brienne pressed, feeling protective of the young monarch.

"We have never spoken face to face." Maggie smiled mysteriously. "But he knows I am here, and he has allowed me to stay." She relayed. "I am no threat to the Three Eyed Raven, I assure you." She affirmed.

Her guests gave each other an cautious look, their concerns calmed at least for the moment. Although Jaime returned to his reserved and suspicious deliberation of Maggie and her purpose, he would allow her care, at least for now. It would give him time to place her in the recollections his mind searched. He vowed to himself that even if he were not completely healed, that he and Brienne would tarry only as long as would be absolutely necessary. Soon they would be on their way to join their son.

Seeming to read the resignation in their thoughts Maggie sighed deeply, a look of forced satisfaction resting over her aged features. "Very well then." She changed the subject. "Let me bring you a bowl of broth, Ser Jaime." She insisted. "To rebuild your strength." Her eyes danced with delight.
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Jaime was forced to spend nearly a week in bed waiting for the wound inflicted by the Essosi swordsman to heal. He was eager to declare himself fit and able to move freely, however Brienne would take no chances. She assumed the role of nursemaid to him, and saw to his every need day and night. Jaime hated watching Brienne run herself ragged tending to him, but it seemed to give her comfort and occupied her mind so that thoughts of their babe did not threaten to overwhelm her quite as much. So he gave in to her demands and humored her, remaining immobile while she cared for him. He could see the longing for Galladon behind her eyes each time she looked at him. He heard the mournful tone in the voice she tried unsuccessfully to make sound cheerful. Jaime watched the sorrow on Brienne's face when she thought he was not looking. He heard her crying for their child in the night when she thought he was asleep. The pain of the separation from their son was excruciating for both of them. Jaime felt as if he had failed Galladon and Brienne, and tried to will his body to heal. The worst part was not knowing if the Tarly's and little Galladon had actually made their way safely to Evenfall.

On the sixth day of Jaime's recovery, upon her return from gathering herbs, Maggie found her patient sitting perched on the side of the bed being fawned over by the woman who loved him. Brienne stopped her fussing over his bandages and looked up smiling when the old woman entered. Jaime, however, held the healing witch in his glare. His suspicious stare followed her as she trudged to the hearth, and set down the firewood with a groan. She stood and sighed, feeling his eyes boring through her. It was clear, they needed to speak, alone.

Maggie made a show of stretching the knots from her back, and her hobble was far more pronounced as she tottered to the bed. "Oh." She winced. "These old bones get tighter each day." She chuckled, wringing her hands as if she were working out the pain in her swollen knuckles.

Brienne watched her, suddenly ashamed that she had not done more to help their host while her attentions had been fixed upon caring for Jaime. "Forgive me." She cleared her throat. "May I help you with the chores?" She asked, hopefully, as Jaime reached up and took her hand.

Maggie appeared to give Brienne's request some consideration. "Thank you, My Dear." She smiled sweetly. "If it would not be too much trouble, I would be ever so grateful if you could help me fill those pails with water from the stream." She pointed to several empty buckets beside the door. "It is so difficult for me to carry their weight these day." She looked down bashfully.

"Of course." Brienne agreed. "It would be my pleasure." She nodded, and gave Jaime one last glance, silently inquiring if he could do without her for a short time.

He raised her fingers to his lips and placed a tender kiss upon her knuckles. "Don't be long." He replied, concerned at whatever unknown hazards might threaten her in the dark forest. Brienne nodded to reassured him, gathering the pails from the ground and slipping out into shadows of the trees.

Once she was gone, Jaime returned his scrutiny to Maggie. She showed no sign of shying from his skepticism. "You are Maggie the Frog." He asserted, his memory of what he knew of her having returned to him in the wee hours of the morning as he had lain awake worrying over the safety of Brienne and Galladon. "The witch who used to live in the woods near Lannisport." He charged.

Maggie bowed as low as she could. "One and the same." She confirmed with a flourish of her arms. "You do remember me." She seemed flattered.

Jaime took a long moment to stand upon his unsteady legs, using the moments to throw a warning glance in Maggie's direction. "I remember that my sister told me you once foretold her fortune." He now detested even the mention of Cersei, but he needed to determine if this woods witch posed any danger to Brienne.

Maggie's face fell in disgust. "The Queen." The old woman nearly spat the words on the ground. "Yes. She came to me when she was a girl, and demanded to be told her future." Her eyes were distant with the scornful recollection. "And did the late Queen impart to you what I described?" She wondered.

Jaime shook his head. "She never described what it was she learned from you." He said. "But she was frightened near our of her wits, and declared that you were a vile vicious woman, and a fraud." Jaime cared not about Cersei's discomfort of long ago. He now knew, that she had probably gotten exactly what she deserved from old Maggie. However, he could not dispell the fear he felt for Brienne's safety.

"I can assure you that nothing I told your sister that day was a falsehood." She raised her chin defiantly. "I said she would marry a king. Was she not Queen?" Maggie asked haughtily. "Did she not birth three children, and outlive them all?" She demanded, revealing the path she had foreseen. "Those events, as well, was foretold by my tongue." She almost seemed to gloat.

"Cersei is no longer any concern of mine." Jaime answered emotionlessly, shaking the thought of her from his head. "My Lady Brienne is not usually so trusting of strangers." He eyed Maggie darkly. "Yet she eagerly relies upon you." He continued, lowering an accusatory stare in her direction. "Have you bewitched her?" Jaime accused.

Maggie responded to his agitation with a laugh. "I beg your pardon, Ser Jaime." She shot a knowing look in his directions. "The only one here who has bewitched Lady Brienne is you." Maggie raised her brow, envisioning all she had seen of them. Even when she had sensed them in the future she read for Cersei, it was unmistakably clear, that the entire world was drawing the young Lion and the Evenstar's then infant daughter together. "She is simply grateful to the one who saved her man from certain death." Maggie informed him.

"Am I?" Jaime shot back. "Brienne's man?" He questioned, unsure just how much of their history the old woman knew. He wondered if Brienne still saw him that way, after all they had been through.

Maggie regarded Jaime sympathetically. "Ser Jaime." She looked surprised he would even doubt such a bond. "You have always been hers." Maggie's eyes gleamed to use the words he had once sworn to promise himself to Brienne.

Jaime stood back in shock. It felt as if Maggie had been standing there in the White Room, when he had given Oathkeeper to Brienne. In the tent on the field at Riverrun, when he had pledged himself to her a second time." For a long moment he could not speak. "Not always." He finally lamented, thinking of the time he had wasted ruining himself doing Cersei's bidding, even when he knew he loved Brienne.

Maggie's eye softened as she saw Jaime's anger cooling at the thoughts of Brienne. She took a deep breath and relaxed in the warm visions which played in her head of the Lion of Lannister, and the Maid of Tarth. "It was never your sister that was the other half of your soul." Maggie spoke to him as one would a child. "It was always the Daughter of Tarth for whom you were destined." She smiled whimsically. "You and Lady Brienne were always meant for each other. She is your true soulmate, as you are hers." Maggie proclaimed.

"Then why was I born along with that wretched bitch?" Jaime shouted. "Why did I give up everything to give her what she wanted?" His voice cracked with regret and self loathing.

Maggie nodded, understanding the power Cersei had held over him for so long. "You always thought your purpose was to be her protector, or perhaps that is what she told you." Maggie said patiently. "You were born after her, clutching her heel, am I right?" Maggie asked unnecessarily. Jaime nodded, his eyes growing wide at the knowledge of his life of which Maggie was somehow aware. She moved closer, and looked sternly into his face.

"You were not trying to hold onto her." Maggie informed him. "It was not a desperate need to stay with her that caused your tiny hand to clutch at her as your mother brought you both forth." She almost sneered. "You were trying to drag her back from whence she came." Maggie reported. "Even your newborn heart sensed her evil. Even then you were trying to protect the world from her, to keep it safe for the soul to whom your heart was bonded." Maggie smiled warmly.

Jaime shook his head, unable to fathom that this stranger had known of him even before his birth. "This makes no sense." He raved. "Surely, you have heard all of this from someone, a servant, rumors in the street perhaps." He conjectured, blustering his disbelief.

"Those were not the only fates I imparted to your sister when she came to me." Maggie continued, undaunted. "You were always what your sister held dear." She confirmed. Jaime scoffed in reply. "Not because of any great affection for you, but because of what you could give her." Maggie described exactly how Cersei had always perceived Jaime.

The corners of Jaime's mouth twisted into a loathful sneer. "I gave her whatever she wanted." He rued. "She wanted to become Queen, I entered to the Kingsguard as part of the bargain. She wanted people dead, I killed them. She swore she would bare no child of Robert Baratheon, I gave her that, too. She wanted someone else's child silenced, I threw him from a tower window." Jaime confessed.

Maggie stood at his elbow staring up at him. "Aye. All of that you did for your sister, in her name." She did not contradict his assertion. "You were everything she needed. However, I prophesized that she would not keep her heart's treasures. That along would come another to whom she would lose them." Maggie paused, her eyes dancing. "And did not one younger, more beautiful than she win your heart away from Cersei, and take all she held dear?" Again, she watched Jaime's own eyes grow soft and calm, as if he were dreaming of Brienne.

"That is unless you do not think Lady Brienne a beauty." Maggie prodded.

Jaime spun on her, rage flashing in his eyes. "Brienne is the most beautiful creature I have ever set my eyes upon, more pleasing to my eyes and my heart than Cersei ever was." He declared. "My sister's so called charms pail woefully in comparison to merely the light in Brienne's lovely eyes." He declared.

Maggie tilted her head and acquiesced. "Because Lady Brienne has the soul of an angel." The witch's demeanor brightened. "And so do you, Ser Jaime." She smiled. "True beauty comes from the inside, from one's heart." She smiled. "Lady Brienne has spent her life caring for others, pledging herself for the good of those under her care." She agreed.

"But, I have spent my life a shallow, callous fool." Jaime lamented. "Willing to kill and maim innocents at my sister's whim." He admitted regretfully.

Maggie regarded Jaime with empathy. "Those we're not the acts of your true heart." She comforted. "You have never believed it, but you have always been the man of honor you wished to be. It was not until you desired to prove yourself to Lady Brienne did you feel that goodness shining in you." Maggie reached and touched his elbow reassuringly. Jaime allowed the familiarity, and stared at her, hoping she spoke the truth.

"I pray you are correct in your perception of me." He answered lowly. "For Brienne's sake." Jaime wished.

Maggie patted his arm. "There was one other thing which I prophesied to your sister." She hastened, knowing there was not much time until Brienne returned from her chore. "I told her how she would die." Maggie looked knowingly at him. "Do you know what the word Valonqar means, Ser Jaime?" Her smile was almost sinister as the phrase left her lips.

Jaime's expression was one of confusion and intolerance. He vaguely remembered attempting to learn the ancient Valyrian language when his father would hold him hostage for his long daily tutoring sessions as a boy. How he had hated those times, and his father for them. "Brother. If I remember correctly." His frustration at the seemingly foolish question was obvious.

Maggie laughed, yet again. "It means little brother." She corrected his inaccuracy.

Jaime's forehead wrinkled in shadowed contradiction. "Tyrion?" He responded, shaking his head. "Tyrion did not kill Cersei. He was not even there." Jaime countered.

"No, Ser Jaime." Maggie smirked. "Not Lord Tyrion." She insisted. "What the word means is younger brother." She searched his face looking for a sign of recognition. "Were you not born second?" She questioned. Jaime's eyed widened at her meaning.

Maggie continued, eager to inform Jaime of what she was certain he was already aware. "Was she not drowning in her own tears?" Maggie eyed him. "She was weeping, was she not?" The witch's face almost beamed. "Did not you lead the Queen to where the foundations of the castle were the weakest?" Maggie prodded. "Did you not wrap your arms around her, and hold her still beneath the crumbling ruble as the dust and debris choked the breath from her throat?" She nodded, her eyes dancing. Jaime stepped back, suddenly realizing the old woman knew everything he had done. "Did you not send you sister to the Hells to protect the woman you love, the younger more beautiful...Queen of your heart?" Maggie asked, her gaze sympathetic.

Jaime's own eyes grew wistful at the thought of Brienne. "I did." He confessed.

"You were not born grasping your sister in order to die with her." Maggie proclaimed. "Your fate was always to send her from this world, to save Lady Brienne from the evil that Queen Cersei would have wrought upon her, and your son." Maggie smiled as if she were witness to the living embodiment of a long ago spoken promise. "I told her what my vision showed me, that the Valonqar would come for her and ring the life from her." Maggie explained simply and truthfully. "You are the Valonqar, Jaime Lannister." She smiled proudly.

Jaime stepped back, allowing the old seer's words to form in his brain. That had been the reason Cersei has always feared Tyrion. Jaime had always assumed it was due to his brother's advanced intelligence, even over Cersei. Now he understood, that Cersei's lifelong wariness of Tyrion was because she assumed he would become her killer. So sure had she been in her dominance over Jaime that she had never dreamed it would be he who would take her life. He wanted to laugh, imagining that it had been him all along. There was no regret, no remorse. He did not think nostalgically upon the years with Cersei. The only thought that shone in his mind was the overwhelming relief that he had protected Brienne. Her safety had been his only goal when he left Winterfell, her life his one treasure. It pleased and heartened him to hear Maggie tell of how he and Brienne had always been destined for each other. All that he had done, all he had suffered, he would gladly repeat for her. He regarded the old witch kindly, a wide smile painted across his face.

"Thank you." He said gratefully. "For healing me, and caring for Brienne." He bowed his head.

Maggie answered with a low creaky curtsy of her own. "It has been my honor, Ser." She assured him.

Before another word could pass between them, Brienne entered the hovel, carrying two heavy pails filled with water. A few drops sloshed upon the ground as she set down her burden by the door. As she rose, her eyes beheld Jaime, and her smile had never looked brighter. He returned her happiness with enraptured ardor, and gave a silent prayer of thanks to the Gods that he had again been spared from certain death. He would not squander one precocious moment with her.

"It appears, you are feeling better." Brienne grinned as she crossed the floor and draped one arm around Jaime's waist, careful to be gentle on his injured side.

"Do I?" He answered, joyfully.

"You're still standing." She shrugged, her eyes wide and hopeful.

Maggie watched them, enjoying the love that radiated between them. "I do believe that Ser Jaime is well on the mend." She announced. "A short walk in the fresh air and sunshine might do him wonders." She suggested, a wry smile accompanying an upswept brow.

Brienne gasped in agreement. "That is a wonderful idea. It is a lovely day outside." She acknowledged. From somewhere, Maggie had supplied Jaime with a new tunic which Brienne wriggled over his head. She then gently pulled him toward the door. He could not deny Brienne's excited offer. He had no wish to. The thought of finally being alone with her was far too enticing to turn down.
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Once out in the open air, Brienne could sense Jaime relax. She felt his loving gaze upon her even as they walked, their fingers gently entwined. Bashfully, she could not meet his eyes, yet his nearness calmed her and settled an ease over her which she had not felt since they had stood together in her quarters so ready to declare the love each felt. They walked in silence, a thousand unspoken emotions hanging between them. Brienne's gate was slower than her usual long purposeful stride, for which Jaime was grateful. His still healing wound was tender, however he would ignore the tight muscles and prickling itch at the incision if only he could wrap his body around her and make slow passionate love to her. How he longed for her.

At the thought of feeling Brienne's glorious body next to his, Jaime's steps grew even more halting, lost in his thought as he was. Instantly her worried gaze found his soft heavy eyes. "We should sit." She offered. "Are you tiring?" Brienne questioned, worried that perhaps their stroll had been a misguided idea, and was taxing Jaime far too much.

Jaime could have walked across Westeros with her, but found himself eager to linger at her side. "Perhaps for a bit." He smiled, almost timid in his loving charade, his face close to hers.

Brienne reddened with a shy blush that Jaime found irresistible. She lowered her eyes, searching for a spot that would give him comfort among the branches and scrub. As she inspected the path ahead, her eyes were drawn to a what appeared to be a shaft of light breaking through the canopy in the distance. It seems to call to her. "Can you make it there?" She motioned toward the clearing.

His face beaming Jaime took her arm, willing to follow Brienne anywhere. "Lead the way, My Lady." He accepted, his heart racing at the sensation of her touch.

Together they navigated the trail to where the sun light brightened the woods. Jaime watched the golden light warm Brienne's face as they approached. Her eyes glistened like stars in the sky. She was truly the loveliest thing he had ever beheld. She gave him a wide smile in anticipation as if she had been reading his thoughts, before she peered beyond the fringe of leaves that separated them from the respite they sought. A gasp at what she saw, escaped her throat. Enthralled, she pulled him into the light.

Ahead of them stood a wide, sturdy ancient timber. If they had not known better, they would have sworn it was a Weirwood tree. However, most of those remnants of the old gods had long since been destroyed in this part of the realm as the Faith of The Seven had spread. The lovely old hardwood had certainly seen the time before septs had begun to minister to the souls of the citizens. At first glance the leaves that crowned the limbs appeared to be as red as a Godswood tree, surrounded by others as white as snow. It was only upon closer inspection did one realize the foliage was actually the tiniest of red flowers, caressed by still more blossoms of the palest blue. It seemed the living embodiment of the union Jaime wished to forge between the houses of Lannister and Tarth. It stood out of place among the dark gnarled branches of the forest, a symbol of renewal. All that radiated outward from its trunk for several yards seemed as though it were from another world. Bright green grass carpeted the forest floor under a canopy which had suddenly opened to the blue sky above. A brilliant display of wildflowers stood in tall stands that led to the tree. It reminded Brienne of the colorful floral meadows of Tarth. It reminded Jaime of how so much of the world paled in comparison to her.

They breathed deep the sweet fresh breeze that whispered through the little glade as they walked, hand in hand toward the tree. As they neared the soft green tuft at the base of the trunk, the shivering of the flowers sounded almost like music, serenading the adoration each wished to declare. Although it was Jaime who was recovering from a near mortal would, he saw Brienne settled comfortably upon the soft grass, before he nestled beside her. The tall wild blooms framed her, and the sunlight glistened through her hair, making her seem an angel. Jaime stared at her in awe. So taken with each other they were that words would not form between them. They smiled, lowered their eyes in embarrassment, and nearly giggled, as nervous as two children being introduced to their intendeds for the first time.

It was Brienne who broke the awkwardness between them. "Are we just gong to sit here?" She began, and suddenly realized her inquiry sounded like a proposition. "I, I mean surely there is something we could talk about." She stammered.

Jaime caught his breath, mentally kicking himself for his lack of poise. Brienne was the mother of his child, surely there was no need for his illogical bout of nerves. "Thank you." He said solemnly, thinking of all she had done for him. "You saved my life." He brought his eyes to hers and held their soft blue depths within his gaze.

Brienne looked at him, stunned. "You took a blade meant for me." She reminded him. "You jumped in front of that Essosi's sword." She shivered with he memory. "It is you who saved me." She asserted.

Jaime too shook his head, remembering how near Brienne had come to death. "There was nothing else I could have done." He said lowly, taking her hand. "I would do so again, and consider myself the luckiest man in the world." He said earnestly.

Brienne was silent for a long moment, tears forming in her eyes. She finally spoke, her voice was choked with fear. "I thought I had lost you." She sobbed. "Again." She turned to Jaime as if just the thought of it might steal him from her.

Jaime lowered his head and rested his brow against Brienne's temple. "I would fight The Seven themselves to remain at your side." He swore to her, gathering Brienne in his arms. He held her close until he felt the terror loosen its grip upon her.

"I heard what you said." He smiled, watching a wild blue blossom floating gracefully down onto her hair.

Brienne pulled back from him, questioning him with her eyes. "What I said?" She asked, confused.

Jaime nodded. "Yes." His grin widened, and his eyes grew dreamy. "In the courtyard, when I fell." He explained. "You said that you loved me." He stared at her blissfully.

"Oh, that." Brienne teased. Her expression feigning innocence at the importance of her admission.

Jaime huffed, pretending to be insulted. Yes, that!" He regarded her with amused false ire.

Brienne raised her eyes to study the sky as if she were thinking. "Well, in the heat of the moment..." She shrugged. "You were injured..." The corners of her mouth turned up in a self-amused grin.

A sweetly frustrated chortle rose from Jaime' throat. "Brienne of Tarth, don't give me that." He jested. "You told me you loved me." He declared again.

Brienne eyed him for a moment, and then could no longer keep up her facade of humor. Gently she brought her hand to caress his cheek. She stared deeply into his emerald eyes, soft loving tears forming in her own. "Of course, I love you." She answered moving her other hand to hold his jaw the way she had in the courtyard at Winterfell. "I believe what you told me, about why you left the North, and all that happened after." She assured him. "I forgive you. I trust you, and I love you." She swore. "I love you. I always have." Brienne happiness mirrored Jaime's as the words left her lips.

"Oh Brienne." Jaime pulled her to him. "You have given me a greater gift than even my life." He beamed, his eyes dancing with joy.

"I love you. I love you." He breathed, his lips brushing against her temple, as they traveled to her mouth. "With all of my heart and soul, I love you." He confessed, pressing his lips to hers and feasting upon their sweetness.

Brienne went weak in his arms, losing herself in the rapture of his kiss. Softly, she trailed her fingers down his arm, as his followed suit to her waist. He parted her lips with his, and probed her mouth with his tongue for the sweet delicacy he desired. She teased him with a swirling foraging of her own, as her mouth opened wider to accept him. It was not like the first kiss they had shared at Winterfell. There was no rushed awkward embarrassment. This was deep and needful. The familiar want of hearts separated for far too long. A low heady moan rose from deep within her.

Dizzy with longing, Jaime felt the outline of Brienne's perfect breasts as her chest heaved for breath against him. With the fingers of his left hand, he began to work the closures of her tunic, and he felt himself growing hard in anticipation of desire, his lips never leaving hers. He tugged and twisted until finally her garment fell open to him, baring her glorious body before his eyes. Gingerly she answered his efforts, by loosening the string of his britches, and sliding them low on his hips. The sensation of her touch so close to his sensitive cock made him gasp in pleasure, and then groan with want. He slid her blouse off her shoulders and down her arms. Brienne let loose of him only long enough to wring her hands free of the fabric. Jaime let it fall behind her.

He beheld the perfection in awe, and then tasted her neck as he worked his lips toward the soft enticing flesh of her breast. She cried out in shock, as his teeth grazed the tenderness of her hard nipples, still full and sensitive from the need to feed Galladon. The tea Maggie had made her sip had kept her ready for her babe.

Suddenly understanding the reason for Brienne's tentativeness. Jaime released her and looked up in dread. "Forgive me, my love." He pleaded. "Did I hurt you?" He could not bear the thought of causing her distress.

Brienne shook her head, and stared back at him. "I'm just a little tender." She said, eager to assuage his fear.. "But I am still nursing." She reminded him.

Jaime shook his head. "It matters not to me." He said breathlessly. "I want all of you." He asserted.

Using the pause in their passion to her advantage, Brienne tore Jaime's tunic from over his head, and leaned back even further into his arms baring her breasts to him once more. Jaime wasted no time returning to his exploration of her body. His mouth again found her nipple. This time she sighed in ecstasy, the momentary pain turning to pleasure as his tongue circled and worked her to a frenzy. As he sucked harder upon her sensitive skin, she felt the warm flow of her need for him beckoning between her legs. When he raised his head, a thick creamy drop of her milk lay at the corner of his miuth. Greedily he licked at the remnants of her, and smile sensually. Slowly, Jaime laid Brienne back onto the soft pillow of the thick lush clearing. She drew in a lustful breath, and stared deeply into his eyes, before his lips again found hers.

Eager for the passion they would share, Brienne pulled Jaime's britches further down his legs. Her long graceful fingers ran over the rounded plains of his ass. She squeezed and kneeled his flesh, and his cock throbbed between his legs, growing harder for her. Again, he groaned against her neck. Deftly, his left hand moved to her waist, and he nearly ripped her trousers from her. She held tight to his neck and kicked the britches off. Jaime rose to his knees and wiggled out of the last of his garments.

Both freed from the confines of their clothing, Jaime lowered himself to Brienne. Her fingers traveling up his back, and pulling him to her. As he rested his weight upon her, their mouthes met in a sensuous panting kiss. He nibbled her bottom lip, before plunging again into the bliss of her mouth. Brienne relaxed beneath him at the feel of his hard erect cock between her legs. The wetness of her desire glided once more down her thighs, inviting him. All Jaime wanted was to bury himself deep within her.

"I've waited so long for this." He moaned into her ear.

The pressure of his erection against the tender nerves at the entrance to the path he would travel drove her wild with desire. "I need you." She answered back, her breath hot upon his neck.

He enjoyed her desperation. It aroused him even more. He would make her wait, until she could do nothing but beg him. Subtly, almost imperceptibly, he slid his fingers down her stomach, and trailed through the delicate curls between her legs to the spot he knew would make her scream. He shifted his weight upon one hip, and settled in to pleasure her. Watching her wide eyes, heavy with longing, he began to work at the delicate little mound, changing his speed and direction until her breath caught in her throat, and she tossed her head back in sheer bliss. With his thumb continuing to press against her irradically, she gasped as he slid two of his fingers along her delicate velvety folds and slipped them inside her. He played against the hot wetness of her soft walls.

"Yes!" She shouted. "There." Brienne demanded. Jaime was happy to oblige.

Breathy, lustful pants burst from her throat, as her body quivered and began to spasm with the force of the orgasm he was eliciting from her. Brienne had a surprise of her own. Gently she reached between his legs and found the hard rigid length of her prize. Wrapping her soft fingers tenderly around his clock, she began to stroke him. Jaime's face contorted with the perfect painful pleasure she was giving him. He never wanted her to stop. Brienne smiled enticingly up at him, and he lost himself in her eyes. Not wanting to take him too far, she released him, as a another shout of pure ecstasy escaped her, and his efforts were rewarded with a warm slick that drenched the both of them.

Finally, he could wait no longer. Jaime reached and brought Brienne's legs around him, opening her wide to him. With a low groan of passion, he slid himself inside her. Brienne's back arched at the pleasure of feeling him at last filling every inch of her. Her fingered clamped onto the muscles of his back, a sensation which heightened him even more. They held close to each other, enjoying what had been denied them for so long. Then, as his need mounted, Jaime began to thrust himself deeper into her soft sheath. Gently at first, and then harder as he took his cues from Brienne's reaction. She wanted him. She want every bit of him. Jaime's wound plagued him not at all, so focused was he on the joy of Brienne in his arms. His fingers caressed her breasts. Their mouths met in a probing banquet of delights. Brienne slid her legs further up on his hips, opening herself even more him. Jaime accepted her invitation, driving himself deeper and harder into her. She was nearly screaming in passion as he moved in and out against her, his needful force meeting her wanting desire in perfect harmony.

At last, Jaime felt the unstoppable desire welling within him. He plunged even harder into Brienne's warmth. She sensed he was nearly ready, and met him with a rhythm of her own. She too, felt the pleasured pressure wanting to burst inside her. Entwined around one another, they reached the height of their love making, her passionate wail echoed through the clearing. His loud moan answering her call, he spilled inside her as they came together.

Their lungs starved for breath, their bodies satiated, and exhausted, Brienne and Jaime lay together in the warm afternoon sunshine, basking in the love they had at last acknowledged and celebrated. Their past was behind them. It could not hurt them. Their future was uncertain. Even their child was so far from them. But at least they had each other, and for now that was what thrilled them. They shared their love, and hoped for a bright future.

Jaime held Brienne close. He was alive and drunk on sunlight. He was intoxicated by the feel of the woman he loved in his arms. "I love you, My Dearest." He exclaimed. "I shall never leave your side, again." He told her. "I swear it." Jaime vowed.

Brienne rolled into her side and studied him, her eyes soft with love. "I shall never doubt you, ever again." She promised, and touched his face. "Oh Gods, I love you." She swore, before losing herself in another of his passionate kisses.
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That night, weary from an afternoon of love making, and from days of caring for Jaime as he recovered, Brienne fell asleep at his side on the pile of quilts that was Maggie's bed. Their elderly host had declared a few thin blankets and a chair next to the hearth was comfortable enough for her, and she had not complained the whole of the time the two knights had been her guests. Jaime had lain awake during the dark hours after they had returned to Maggie's shack from the lovely clearning in which they had shared their passion. He held Brienne close to him, feeling her deep pleasant sighs against his body, certain the Gods had blessed him yet again, until at last he drifted off and joined Brienne in her slumber.

In the silence of the early morning, it was Jaime's turn to awaken to an empty bed. He bolted upright. His eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness while searching for Brienne. His heart raced with worry when he realized that she was nowhere within the tiny house. Ignoring the shooting pain in his side, Jaime hurried from the bed, and rushed urgently outside into the still night. He whirled frantically, desperate to find Brienne. Jaime had only moved a few paces into the woods when, in the shafts of moonlight that filtered through the leaves, he saw her. Brienne was seated, huddled at the base of a aged twisted tree. He breathed a sigh of relief as he rushed to his beloved. As Jaime drew closer, he could hear that Brienne was weeping.

"What is it, My Love?" Jaime questioned distraught, as he fell to his knees beside Brienne and searched in the shadowed moonlight for her hand.

Brienne fought the heavy tears that blinded her eyes, and gasped in surprise trying to find her voice. At last, unable to settle herself, she simply turned a grieved and furrowed brow to Jaime. "Promise me!" She begged, a full thought more than she could force past her tongue.

Jaime smoothed a stray lock of hair back from Brienne's face and stared wildly at her trying to make sense of her words. "Promise what, Dearest?" He pleaded. "Anything." Jaime promised, wishing to take the worry from her troubled mind.

Brienne sniffed once more. "You must promise that you will care for Galladon." She gushed hopelessly. "Give him your name, and let him know my father." She pleaded. "He will need you." She stared at him as if it were the last time she would ever see him.

"He will have the both of us." Jaime assured her. "I do not understand." He shook his head. Brienne closed her eyes against the dread in her heart for a long moment. When she regarded Jaime again, the sadness he found upon her face tore his own heart to shreds.

"I abandoned my post, Jaime." She reminded him, her voice filled with guilt. "That is treason." She asserted, and then her voice turned small and terrified. "I will be executed." Brienne said, her hands suddenly beginning to shake within Jaime's grasp.

Jaime caught his breath, unwilling to imagine the dire scenario she described. He shook his head as if he had the power to decide her fate. "The Keep had fallen." He justifed the choices she had made. "There was nothing you could have done." He tried to give her hope.

"I turned my back on my command." She continued the ominous description of what she saw as her failure.

"You saved my life." Jaime declared. "A fellow officer of the Small Council." He argued, unwilling to believe that such a selfless act could be met with anything less than esteem.

Brienne tenderly touched his face. "And I would do so again." She vowed. "But it is a victory for which I will surely pay." She replied dejectedly.

Jaime grasped her fingers to his lips. "I cannot imagine that King Bran would order your death." He tried to reassure her, reminded of the benevolence and forgiveness with which the young man had graced him. "There was nothing more you could do." He tried to will faith into the woman he adored, unable to abide her sadness.

Brienne lowered her eyes. "It's the law." She proclaimed, her shoulders sinking in defeat. "I took an oath." She looked at him, both of them suffering.

"Damn your oath!" Jaime shook with anger. "Hear me now." He forced her eyes to his. "No one is going to take you from me. I will never allow anyone to threaten you, not the men-at-arms of a great house, not a bear, not the dead, not fucking dragons, not a Queen." He swore. "And not a King." Jaime called to Brienne's mind the times he had already faced death for her. It would be no different now. Brienne was silent in the face of his own vow. His promise to her.

He gathered her softly in his arms, and held fast to her. "Once we are safe behind the walls of Evenfall." He kissed her temple. "Not even the Seven themselves would dare come to take you from me." He held her tightly, and looked to the sky as if in challenge. "We will raise our son, and nothing will ever part of us again." He promised.

Brienne held her breath at the thought of her child. "Galladon." She whispered. "I miss him so desperately." She told Jaime, tears finding her eyes again.

Suddenly, Jaime was stricken not only with the longing for their child, but also with the guilt that it had been his injury that had kept Brienne so long away from Galladon. He pulled from her, remorse shadowing his face. "Forgive me." He asked her, his heart in his hand. "If not for me, you would be holding our babe right now." He lowered his head against hers in shame.

Brienne shook her head. "It is not your fault, My Love." She declared, trying to remove any blame from him.

Jaime felt wholly unworthy of her selfless encouragement. "We will leave at first light." He told her, his plan already set in his thoughts. "I will get you to Tarth. I will get you to our son, Jaime swore.

Brienne again shook her head, afraid to hope. "You cannot yet travel." She feared for him.

Enticingly, he kissed her neck, and flashed a lusty gaze at her, recalling the afternoon they had spent together. "If I can enjoy every inch of your glorious body, I can seat a horse for a few days ride." He contested. Feeling a brief surge of optimism, Brienne gave him a brave look and granted him a smile in spite of herself, before worry once more captured her expression.

She studied Jaime wanting to believe him. "What if the coast has been overrrun?" She shuddered. "What if the Essosi hold Evenfall?" Her face fell even further at the notion. Surely the Evenstar and his heir would be the first ones put to death. A shiver ran up her spine at that thought.

"You said yourself, that not a single rider has come this way." Jaime tried to encourage her. "Surely if the enemy had gotten further into Westeros there would be thousands occupying this wood by now." He prayed his military logic was correct.

He moved closer, eager for her to believe the words in which he himself could not yet find faith. "Even if the Essosi have taken Tarth, we will find a way to get to our son." He promised, holding her hand tightly to his heart. Jaime tried to assure Brienne that they had already succeeded, but he could feel a dark empty fear still clasping her heart. He was fighting the same terrible alarm within himself.

She turned her pained eyes to him, and swallowed hard. "But what if he's not there?" Brienne choked on already bitter tears.

Jaime raised his hand and cupped her chin, bringing her eyes to his. Brienne had never seen such ferocity and determination. "Then, I shall tear Westeros to the ground, inch by inch, until I find him." Jaime swore.