He had thought death should have been much less painful. Then again, he was certain that he was far from any sweet glorious Heaven. He seemed caught in a churning tide. At once he was brutally aware of the searing pain that tormented his body. It was more than he could bear. His muscles attempted to writhe in agony. However, his aching bones refused to move and kept him pinned in place, lying, waiting. Just as quickly, he succumbed to nothingness. An all encompassing void in which he ceased to exist overtook him. Then pain again, and once more the dark emptiness crept over him. Perhaps this was what Hell felt like. Jaime knew he more than deserved an eternity of such torture. He could abide it better than the remorse he had felt when he left her. It was more agreeable than the pain that shown upon her angelic face as she pleaded with him not to go. More welcome the feeling was, than the hurt in Brienne's astonishing blue eyes. He could not bring himself to look into them that night. Jaime could see them clearly now, before him. Not filled with tears and anguished like the last time he had gazed upon her, but shining and bright and happy as he remembered from the moon they spent together lost in love and each other's arms. It was a torture.
Jaime felt it strange that it was not Cersei who should hover in his thoughts, constantly. She was, after all, the one to whom he had returned. The one for whom he had abandoned his true love. They had died together, had they not? He was happy his thoughts should fall upon the one he had loved. He had stood there, in the crumbling foundations of the Red Keep, certain he was going to die, his arms wrapped around Cersei, while his every fiber cried out for Brienne, as it did now. He had once thought Cersei his soulmate. He had been so very wrong.
As he and Cersei stood together amidst the devastation of Daenarys Targaryen's dragon fire Jaime had comforted his sister, but that was all she was to him now. No longer did he covet Cersei. He had not kissed her. He wished not for the taste of her mouth on his lips. Neither had he declared his love for her. Cersei no longer possessed his heart. He would not die with her name in his throat. His lust for her had ceased the moment he rode away from Kings Landing, heading North to Brienne. His mind, his heart, and even his body did not think of Cersei as the woman he loved. That place now belonged to another. The one he had abandoned, the woman who had made him feel loved, honorable, and whole for the first time in his life. He had left her. There had been no other way. It was the only thing he could do to keep her safe.
Even now, Jaime's heart shuttered in terror to think of what Cersei would have done to Brienne if she had ever discovered the truth of the love he held for her. So he had told Cersei whatever lie she needed to believe, shepherded her to the depths of the castle he knew would not last, and resolved to die with her, to sacrifice himself for Brienne. It had been to save the one he truly loved. The ultimate act of his adoration for her.
Jaime had not sped back to the Capital with the intention of ending Cersei's life. He had resigned himself to living the rest of his days trapped in a charade, pretending to love her, as he yearned in secrecy for Brienne. He would be father to the babe she carried. At least there would be the child. It shocked him how quickly his plan had changed, almost as rapidly as his mind realized the truth. He knew immediately when he saw Cersei, her belly still as flat as the day he left her. There was no child.
Moons had passed. He had been each time a moon upon the road to and from Winterfell. Cersei had been at least that far along when she told him of the babe. After that, Jaime spent another glorious turn in the arms of Brienne. Cersei should have been swelling with life upon his arrival. She was not. It had all been a lie. Another in a lifetime of falsehoods meant to trap him under her manipulation and control. It was then that he finally realized the depths to which Cersei would go to have her way. It was anger and realization that had fueled Jaime's will. He did not mourn even the thought of the child for whom he had returned. He questioned whether it was because he had never truly been certain that the babe was actually his. Then he realized that perhaps his lack of emotion was because the child he desperately would have wanted in life would have been pillar tall, with sun-yellow hair and the same lovely sky-toned eyes as its mother. The child his heart had yearned for, was the seed he had hoped to plant in Brienne's womb. In that moment Jaime knew that whether it was by dragon fire or his own blade, he could not let the sun set that day with Cersei alive. The moon would rise upon her lifeless form, somehow, even if he had to die with her, for Brienne's sake.
He wondered that Cersei was not with him now, in the darkness. It would have been fitting. What better torture than spending eternity with the person for whom he had lost everything? No. That was not quite the truth. He had given it up, his honor, his future, a chance for a happy life, love, Brienne, all of it. Although his reasons had at last been pure, Jaime had thrown all of it away, and for a lie. Now, the only thing he wished for was another chance at life, the chance to win her back.
Brienne had tried. She had tried to make him believe that he was better than the monster his sister and father had created. She had seen some small spark in him that he did not even know still existed. She held it up to him, trying to make him realize it as well. How it had burned his shielded eyes. He ran from it, ran back to Cersei the first time. However, he had felt Brienne's pull on him even there. Even as he laid in Cersei's bed, it was the thought of Brienne, her image which caused his body to react and not his sister's touch. He had closed his eyes and imagined Brienne's glorious figure pressed against him. Although he had seen her perfection but once, and for only for a moment then at Harrenhal, her form had never left his mind. He looked at the Queen and saw Brienne's sweet smile beholding him. He had made himself believe it were her lips pressed against his. Jaime's yearning for Brienne grew even stronger over the miles that lay between them, until he could no longer fight it and made the only real choice he had ever known in his life. He had chosen her. Jaime remembered the sheer excitement of leaving for the North to join Brienne, which slowly turned into fear as the miles passed. As he rode on, unable to turn back, he had been terrified she would reject him, that she would sneer at his hope, that she would give him over to the Starks to do with as they pleased. But she had not done so. She was not like that.
Brienne had stood before her queen and vouched for him on the very thing she valued above all, her honor. They had fought for the living side by side, their blades, each half of a whole, as one. The way he had always thought it was with Cersei, only better. Brienne had shown him kindness, and hope, and respect. He had never known that with his own twin. It had been Brienne all along who had been his soulmate, and he had left her. Jaime had wanted to make Brienne hate him. He had wanted to hurt her. It was the only way he could be sure she would stay, safe at Winterfell. He feared she would follow, but as the days passed without site of her behind him, he began to realize the pain he had inflicted upon her must have surpassed even her commitment to his redemption. Surely, she detested him now. As he galloped away from her, he knew that his very heart and soul would always be hers, just as he had once promised. The bitter sting of irony protested against the walls of his broken chest as even unconscious he huffed a sour chuckle. As a young man, when all had been decided for him, his fondest wish was to die in the arm of the woman he loved. In truth, he had done exactly that. There was victory in it. Though his last breath had been drawn with Cersei in his death clutch Jaime Lannister had died at Winterfell the moment he left Brienne's side. She was the last woman who had held him in her arms, his last kiss, his last night of joyous passion. Jaime has made certain of that. All that he was, he left with Brienne.
It had been only the shell of a man who had been lost under the rubble of the Red Keep, clinging to a sister he no longer loved. He supposed he had earned that fate many years before. He had already given up that which was most dear to him. He had walked arm in arm with Cersei through the collapsing passageways, and felt only numb. Had heard her speaking, but only answered her in mimic, his emotionless eyes staring blindly ahead of him. As the bricks fell upon them, he did not even see Cersei as she cried in his arms. Jaime's mind focused on the relief that Brienne would be unharmed by any war Cersei might start for the throne, or the vengeance she would have surely exacted upon the woman who had taken Jaime's devotion and his heart from her. He had saved Brienne, even from himself. All he truly saw as he peered into the promise of his demise was Brienne's loving face. He did not care if the crumbling ceiling took his life. He hoped it would. Without Brienne there was no reason to go on, and as the heavy bricks choked the last bit of air from his throat, it was Brienne's name he whispered hoarsely into Cersei's ear. At least she would die knowing the truth.
So he wallowed in his misery, alone in his eternal darkness, and longed for Brienne of Tarth. It was only her memory that would be his comfort forever, and still he counted himself fortunate. He would never need to give her up again. So intently did he focus on the rememberance of her sensation upon his skin that he could almost conjure her. For the few moments his mind would allow, he could enjoy her and imagine none of it had ever occurred.
Jaime found himself surfacing from the darkness once more, his thoughts filled with Brienne. He wanted to float there, alone with her, savoring every moment. But it did not stop. He continued to move upward, until breaking free from the mire began to hurt, worse than anything in his life. His body was on fire. Even when they had taken his sword hand, the pain had not been so fierce, so brutal. The worst part was that he felt Brienne leaving him, slipping through his arms. He wanted to scream, from pain, from heartache, and from fear. Where was there if there was not even the memory of her?
Suddenly, from nowhere, a light burned itself into his vision. It was dim like a candle, yet agonizing nonetheless. It nearly blinded him. Everything weighed down upon him. The air shocked his lungs as he gasped for the taste of it. He had been risen from the waves, only to be slammed to the ground. The force of it snapped his eyes open. The darkness was gone. He stared up at the stone of a dark ceiling. His chest heaved as his heart tried to find its rhythm. He tested his body, muscles flexed but limbs would not move, and every attempt sent explosions of pain through his bones. Jaime shuddered to think what torment awaited him now, and lay there in dread for the suffering to begin. Then, he heard Tyrion's voice.
'No.' Jaime's mind reached for understanding as his eyelids could no longer stand the strain and seamed themselves closed again. 'It could not be.' He wanted to shout. 'Had his brother died in the siege as well?' He could barely breathe. 'Surely Tyrion would have survived.' If anyone would have found a way to avert tragedy, it would have been him. Nothing ever stopped his brother. Somehow Tyrion had managed to overcome every obstacle thrown in his path, and thrive. He had proven to be the fiercest lion of them all. Truly his father's son. Jaime almost found humor in what Tywin would have thought of that suggestion. But if Tyrion still lived. If he were there now, what did that mean?
Again, Jaime battled to open his eyes. The effort took all he had left within him. It was as if something of equal will were warring with him, trying to keep him lost and alone in the spiraling darkness. He tried again. He had to try. He had to know what it all meant.
At last, Jaime's eyes shot open as if he emerged the victor in the conflict he waged with an unseen force. Their torture was met by the burning harrowing pain of the light once more. His hoarse throat cried out against it. He tried to raise his arms, to shield his vision with his hand. His body was still motionless despite his most valiant attempt. He cursed himself thinking that must have been what Bran Stark had felt as he awoke to discover his legs useless.
"That's it." Tyrion's voice came through the gloom again. "Fight it. Come back." He cried from somewhere Jaime could not see.
Jaime heard his brother again. Tyrion was not dead. That meant, he was not dead. He was alive. The memories flooded back into his awareness. He was standing with Cersei in The Red Keep as the brick fell. The pain and terror overtook his mind, until he was on his horse racing back to the city. He had fought every step not to turn his steed around and return to his sweet, loving Brienne. He saw her face, her brow creased with worry, tears falling uncontrollably. She wanted him to stay. She begged him not to go. He felt the warm softness of her skin upon his, tasted her delicious kiss, enjoyed the hidden sensuality of her wondrous body. He stood with her, fighting side by side as one, where he always should have been. He watched reverently admiring her from a distance when first he returned to Winterfell. He handed her a magnificent sword, the only symbol of his heart he was free to give her then, and knew that he loved her.
'Oh Gods! Oh Gods!' Jaime's mind screamed at him. He had left her. 'What had he done?' His heart sank lower then the depths from which he crawled.
Exhausted, he could fight no more. He knew he must be alive, but he did not wish to be. He had given up the greatest thing he had ever known, the only woman he had ever truly loved. There was no purpose for him without her. He let himself go. He wanted to fall back into the darkness. As it surged toward him again, he hoped that it would engulf him, and he would cease. If he was alive, it meant nothing without Brienne.
Jaime relaxed into the void. He prayed it would end his sorrow. He wanted no more of it. At last he was aware enough to realize that Cersei was dead. There was no mourning in his heart for his once dear sister. She had cost him far too dearly. Jaime had given up the only woman he had ever truly loved for her, and it had all been for nothing. All he wished for now was to spend eternity with the memory of the one he had abandoned, for she would never forgive him. She would never again look upon him with the tenderness and love she once had. That thought was more than he could bear.
As precious sleep found Jamie Lannister once more. Under the watchful and vigilant eye of his brother, he whispered the only word that meant anything to him anymore. "Brienne." He sighed, and then slept.
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Brienne felt as though the darkness were closing in around her, pulling her under. She had already fought so hard. Part of her wanted to let go, to fall back into the calming abyss of nothingness, and be washed away. Even as her mind and body begged for relief, Brienne knew she could not give up. She would never give up. She wanted this so desperately, needed it. This was all she had, now.
She had fought all her life. She had been fierce, empassioned, unmoving, and unstoppable. Those who had challenged her had all fallen at the tip of her blade. It all seemed so long ago. That life had been before. Before Jaime had journeyed to Winterfell. Before they had fought The Dead. Before they shared their passion, and their love for each other. Before he had left her crying in the frozen night. Before he had died, died with Cersei. Before.
Brienne feared this was a battle that could not be won, and with a prize so dear at stake. Her strength was failing her, with still so far to go. She held on with all her might. Failure was not an option. Every scar on her body carried a memory, but with it a victory. All of her victories, over fear, over threat, over torment, had made her a brave stalwart warrior. They had given her purpose and honor, and all of them seemed useless compared to this. She had known pain in her life, but never like this. This agony was far worse than any other she had ever experienced, far more urgent, and much more significant. Her world had shrunk to the small sphere of overwhelming torment that surrounded her.
Brienne felt Queen Sansa's hand grasping her own, unswerving. There was no time for her to wonder at the unseen strength behind Sansa's grip, or to fear that in her own intensity she might break her monarch's fingers. Brienne sensed the young leader of The North leaning close to her, willing strength into her, the girl's face drawn with worry. Sansa's words echoed in her ears, compelling her to continue.
"Push, Brienne! Push!" Sansa implored, trying to force the resolve into her sworn sword and friend that she sensed was failing.
From somewhere Brienne heard her own voice straining a guttural reply, as her body again attempted to force the babe toward life. Her babe, his babe. Her mind replayed the past moons as if they had been a dream. She watched Jaime riding away from her, out of the courtyard, toward his certain death. She did not know how long she had stood there in the frigid winter air, praying he would return. Brienne remembered when the news reached her, that he had been lost. She had cried for days, stricken with grief. Queen Sansa had been so kind, so caring. She was the only person Brienne would allow near her. The only one who gained entrance to her darkened, tomb-like chamber. She had not even been able to face Podrick. She knew his sweet worried face would have been too much, and she would lose all hope of the control she was trying so desperately to regain.
Then the image changed. Brienne had awakened on Jaime's side of the bed, where she had spent each moment of her restless nights since he left her. She had roused to overpowering nausea. She had barely been able to stand before the contents of her stomach hurled themselves onto the floor. She knew, of course she knew. Her moon blood had been far past late. Brienne had tried to tell herself it was not the truth, it could not be. How could the babe of a man who had not even wanted her burgeon within her womb? When it became clear that she could fool herself nor others any longer, Sansa had insisted that she be examined by Winterfell's new maester, Samwell Tarly. It took only a short time, for which Brienne had been glad, for the healer to announce that she was with child. Her strong warrior's body carried within it a tiny babe, her babe, Jaime's babe.
It had been only a few short fortnights hence that Brienne had stood before the mirror, studying her rounding form, amazed, unable to find breath, feeling the babe quicken within her belly. In that moment, Jaime Lannister did not matter anymore. The only thing in the entire world of any importance to her now, was seeing her child brought safely forth. Her world had become very simple, that one tiny unheard heartbeat was her reason for living. Brienne had never imagined she would be a mother. However, now that she carried a life within her womb, the little being that grew inside her was the only thing she could think of.
Again she heard Sansa's words of encouragement as another needful spasm ravaged her exhausted body. Somewhere outside her awareness, Brienne felt the soothing coolness of the wet cloth which Gilly used to wipe the sweat from her weary brow. "It's almost over, My Lady." The young woman declared excitedly. Brienne gulped in air as if it were disappearing from the room. She gritted her teeth and did as her body commanded, bearing down as hard as she had enough strength left to.
Brienne's ragged gasps became agonized screams as her babe began to emerge from her body, tearing through her with such excruciating force that she thought she was ripping apart. She clutched Sansa's hand even more desperately, and pushed again. Brienne had been laboring for nearly two days. She had seen the worried looks passed between Gilly and Sam Tarly, as they worked to deliver her of her babe. Her pains had started early in the darkness of the morning, and by noon that day were pummeling her unrelentingly. However, the babe was not moving down in her belly. Brienne answered the overwhelming pressure to push with all her might, until she was nearly in shock from the pain, and still her muscles could not force her babe from her womb. That was until Gilly took matters into her own hands. The young woman, a recent new mother for the second time herself, placed her palms, one on the top of Brienne's belly, and one below, and shoved downward with all her strength. Brienne thought she would burst from the pain. It took several grueling attempts, but finally the little body curled inside her broke free of her pelvic bone on which it was stuck, and began to finally be forced toward life by the straining its mother could barely control. The sun was setting on the second day of her ordeal, when at last Brienne's tortured scream was replace by the miraculous sound of her child's first cry. It was not until several sunsets later, that the battle proven knight learned of how close she had come to succumbing in childbirth as her own mother had done.
Brienne wept as her squalling baby boy was laid in her arms, wet and bloody and perfect. She never dreamed it was possible to love anything so immediately and completely as the way her heart soared for the little person she had created. By the time she bent her neck to kiss his slick soft little head, she had completely forgotten the pain and fear of the ordeal of his birth. Brienne never wanted to let him go, and knew she would give all she had, and everything within her to keep him safe.
Brienne's tears fell not only to welcome her newborn, but also to mourn the babe's father. As she stared upon the tiny face that already held so much of him, Brienne's thoughts went unbidden to Jaime. Her heart ached for the nights of passion they had shared, wrapped in each other's arms in the very bed where she had just born his son into the world. Her tongue still tasted the sweetness of his kisses, and her skin flashed hot with the memory of his touch. She had so happily thought that he loved her, that they would be together forever. She saw his face, smiling so softly at her, and wondered if he would be proud to gaze upon their child. Then, her mind could not fight the memory of waking alone in their bed, finding him readying to depart, and begging him to stay. How her heart had broken as she watched him ride away from her. She had loved Jaime Lannister, and his leaving had shattered her.
She had tried to bury his memory, to light a funeral pyre for him in her heart upon which to destroy the remains of her love. She had fought her own thoughts each time he would come to her mind. She told herself that the babe she carried was hers and hers alone, but it did no good. She could not help waking in the night, and dissolving into tears as their babe made its presence known against the insides of her belly. Brienne's breath caught in her throat when she realized how desperately she wanted Jaime to have been there with her, comforting her, holding her hand, watching their babe being born. For the shadow of a moment, Brienne thought of another babe. The one for whom Jaime had left her, had left them. Now that she was a mother she could mourn for the innocent being who had been part of Jaime. During the moons that his child had grown in her own womb, Brienne could not bear to think of Cersei's babe, lost along with its parents in the collapse of the Red Keep. As she had felt her own child move and kick within her, Brienne swallowed her jealousy at the unborn babe who would never taste the life her child would know.
The moons since their time together had not been easy. Brienne's mind constantly relived their parting, and it seemed her resentment toward her babe's father grew as his child did. The anger that she had carried for Jaime these months, gave pause as she allowed herself to remember what they had shared. Now holding her thriving newborn, Brienne could not help but enjoy a tinge of satisfaction that it was she, and not Cersei, who had brought Jaime's child alive into the world. She who would carry on his line, and be matriarch to his descendants. Their bond would flourish, even if he had not wanted it. Her babe wriggled in her arms, his soft cooing bringing her back to reality. She nuzzled the tiny cheek that nestled against her bare skin, and lovingly clasped the little fist that held so tight to her finger. She had his child. She had been the one to keep part of him alive. She had brought his son wailing with strength and pride into the world. At least she would have that much of him.
When her birthing was finished, Brienne was laid weakly back against the pillows, her child nursing hungrily from her breast, as Sam and Gilly attended to the final remnants of her delivery. "He is beautiful, Brienne." Sansa beamed. Brienne broke her gaze from her babe's eyes and smiled up at her Queen, the joy of motherhood shining on her face. The happy tears that she saw falling from the young rulers eyes, only endeared the girl more to her sworn sword.
"What will his name be?" Sansa asked sweetly, enjoying watching Brienne enthralled with her newborn.
Brienne had sent a raven to her father, Lord Selwyn, at Evenfall shortly after she had discovered that she was with child. Her heart was terrified at what would be The Evenstar's response to her bearing a babe out of wedlock, let alone the Kingslayer's bastard. She feared her father would deem her a whore, and disown her, declaring her unwelcome on her own home of Tarth. She had lain sleepless in the nights, waiting for his response, dreading it. When the raven at last returned she held the slip of parchment in her pocket for almost a week, too afraid to look upon it. Finally, at Queen Sanas's hopeful bidding, Brienne opened the note and read the words her father had penned.
Her breathe trailed slowly from her lungs, and her chest filled with the sweet refreshment of new hope. Her father's only concern had been for her health, and that of her unborn child. "I am overjoyed at the news of the heir you will bear me." Lord Selwyn had written. "I pray the Gods will see you safely through my grandchild's birth. I pray also for the babe, that you will bear a healthy, happy child." He went on. "Your child is of Tarth, and will share proudly in our legacy." He begged Brienne to bring the boy home to meet him as soon as they were ready, and swore his undying love and pride for them both. With a relieved sigh, Brienne declared herself ashamed to have even questioned her father's devotion.
The joy of reading her the Evenstar's words played in her mind as she answered Sansa's question. "His name is Galladon. For my dear lost brother." Brienne said proudly.
She could not help it that her heart filled with anger at her child's father. It had been far too broken to forgive him. Inwardly, she mourned the man she loved, who would now never know his own son. Brienne realized that from most, she would be forced to hide the truth of her son's parentage. There was, however, still something deep within her heart that could not bear to truly take him from their child. That same hidden and hardened part of the damaged organ within her chest also could not bear to take their babe from the man who was his father., the man she loved.
Brienne's voice cracked as she announced her child's full name. "Jaimes Galladon of Tarth."