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Tarth was a land that could only be described as picturesque; an artwork of the finest craftsmanship which one would sit and look at in the confinement of their home for perhaps hours on end, simply taking in the beautiful landscape and every detail that the naked eye could see. Even through a canvas, one could hear the sounds of waves lapping on the shore, the distant echoes of children’s laughter as they played in the waterfalls on the far side of the island, the fair song of a maiden in the streets and the patter of dancing feet - both hard and soft - on the cobbled ground.
However, the very heart of Tarth lay not in the glowing white bricks of Evenfall Hall that was situated proudly upon the highest peak of the isle, nor in the sapphire surroundings that the land was famously named after, but rather the Evenstar and its people.
Though Lord to many, Selwyn the Evenstar was a good man who wore his honour like a broach made of the finest gold. His posture was never slack, nor was it forced. His face was always stone, though never cold. His voice mostly gruff, but forever gentle. Brienne remembered him well during the time that she was away; his tall, broad frame could shield her from any of the seven which wished to look down on her. Those strong arms of his wrapped around her fully and no matter how old she was, Brienne felt no older than a child when she found herself in her fathers embrace, lifted off the ground and held tightly to his burly chest as though she were the rarest of treasures. His scent - the salty smell of the sea mixed with the oak of the trees - could lull her easily into a sense of calmness.
If she breathed in enough, she could still smell phantom sensations of him, even now. Brienne had held herself tight enough as she cried out her sorrows in the early morning on the day he died to mistake her own arms for that of Selwyn’s. Desperate to have her father hold her once more, she had lay with him as he had passed into the heavens from the grand hall of Evenfall. He had requested she take him to the grand hall of Evenfall to help him pass into the heavens, wanting to take one last glance at the glistening sapphire waves he had admired since he was a young boy through the glass walls that hall was made out of. Even now, as she stood in that very same place, she could feel his hand cradling the back of her head to his chest, his cracked lips pressing to her forehead, and the deep sounds of his soothing words blowing in the breeze around her.
Her father, the Evenstar, had been a kindhearted man to his people, and when Brienne had walked through the city to calm herself after the news had spread that Lord Selwyn had passed, she saw not a dry eye in sight. Citizens had bowed their heads to her in respect, they had given her soft looks as she passed, and though Brienne had tried her very best to give back the affections, she could only manage a tearful smile.
To this day, Brienne believed that everything good she had within her she was given by her father, and everything that these people had was because he had been so generous in his actions. A man with as much honour as a warrior, and as much kindness as a father should have, perhaps more. Brienne wanted his legacy to go on and for stories of his life to be told by this generations children to their grandchildren, and she could think of no better way than to become the Evenstar herself, to live up to her role as rightful heir to Tarth, and to Evenfall Hall.
Brienne had made the decision to visit her home after the events at Kings Landing two moons ago, and she had no intentions of staying as she had a role to fulfil back in Winterfell as Lady Sansa’s and Arya’s protector, but that had changed once she had seen her father grow progressively ill. The oaths that she had made were as important to her now as they were when she had made them, and she swore to protect the daughters of Lady Catelyn until her last dying day, but upon discussions with Sansa though multiple ravens, Brienne had been persuaded that just because she was not there with her Lady every morning at the breakfast table did not mean she was not their protector. Anything she could do to ensure safety would be done, and Sansa trusted her with her life on this matter, so had allowed Brienne to live where she had always belonged - in Tarth.
Brienne did feel a deep sadness for leaving Podrick, as they had only given a brief goodbye since each of them thought she would be back within a few months, but as each passing day went she wished she would have at least thanked him for all that he had done for her in person, that she could knight him herself for his bravery and loyalty to her. But all she could do until she saw him again was send ravens in response to his own when she had the time to. It was better than nothing, at least.
Tarth had been her escape for the first few days she was here, a place where she could simply wake up in the morning and be met not by thoughts of death, but by the sound of crashing waves. Childhood memories had brought a series of happy musings as she had wondered around to fulfil the longing she had to be a young girl
once again; full of life, unable to understand the harsh jabs sent her way, a swordsman, and without understanding the turmoil that love and death brought her.
Not just her fathers death, but the love she held for Ser Jaime Lannister.
She had presumed him dead the minute Tyrion had walked up to her the next time she saw him in Kings Landing without his golden haired brother by his side. Brienne had felt her knees buckle beneath her armour that was gifted to her by Jaime, she had felt her grip harden on lion-headed hilt of Oathkeeper sword that she had too been gifted by the Lannister, that she used to fight by his side with and the same weapon that had imminently bonded their souls together with the twin sword he had in his own grasp. Brienne could have wept at her assumption, but she had cried too many tears over Jaime to break down, especially tears of fear from never seeing him again.
However, it was days later when King Bran’s rein had begun and the rubble that was Kings Landing was under reparations that Jaime Lannister’s body had been announced missing by Tyrion, who had been even paler than Brienne when she had assumed him dead.
It had only been mere hours after the news of his disappearing body had spread that he was spotted by an Unsullied Soldier. Jaime had been crawling on his hand and knees with the struggle of a man who had scarcely avoided death, and with only one able hand too. Covered in the dust of the remains of the castle that had fallen around him and the dried blood of his injuries, he was hardly recognisable behind the mask of dirt. The only thing that gave him away as the infamous Kingslayer was the golden hand attached to his right wrist like the burden of his life that he did not want.
Brienne had to fight every nerve in her body to stop herself from running to him when she caught a sight of him in his cell whilst he was awaiting his trial. She had to physically bite the inside of her mouth hard enough to draw blood in effort not to say anything, whether it be a yell or a whisper.
She succeeded.
The trial of Jaime Lannister did not last as long as she had expected, nor as long as she was unable to bare. Bran the Broken had mercy upon his soul, Sansa too - which Brienne was more than surprised at - but Jaime hadn’t gone without punishment. He had been banished from Kings Landing, from the mainland. Brienne had looked over to where Jaime stood in shock, though his green eyes were dull with a lack of emotion.
He simply didn’t care.
Jaime had thought himself dead, he had wished himself dead the minute he had cracked open his eyes to be greeted by the body of his twin sister lay beside him. To be alive might have been a blessing to anyone else in his situation, but to him, it was a torture. Not only to still be breathing air into his lungs which his unborn child did not ever have chance to do, but to be faced with Brienne.
Brienne knew that Jamie had nowhere to go, nobody to run to, no home to live in, and no riches to get him started in life. Which was why Jaime was living in Tarth these days.
The warm glow of the sunset reflected on each rolling wave of the ocean, seeming to illuminate hidden sapphires at the bottom of the water with the brightness of the shine which casted down. As Brienne stood on the edge of the balcony which overlooked the beauty of the sapphire seas, she had to wonder. It was the only thing she could do these days, besides her daily roles of the Evenstar. She had to wonder just what life she had missed out on when she had denied the role of Lord Commander of the Kings Guard to become the Evenstar. It was the dream role she had never even realised she wanted until it was right within her grasp, but loyalty to her own house had brought her to where she was now.
Looking to her right, another balcony hung off the side of the glowing white bricks of the castle she was now the Ser Lady of. But that balcony was hardly ever used, the doors hardly ever opened, nor were the thin curtains inside of the room the balcony was attached to. It was Jaime’s quarters.
Brienne often stood on this same balcony just to check on Jaime without having to face him directly. From where she stood, she could peer into the large glass doors that Jaime hid behind every day. Brienne was not even entirely sure what he looked like these days, she had not seen him in over a fortnight. Sometimes when she was walking past his locked doors to ascend the stairs up to her own chambers, she swore she could hear the soft murmurings from inside. Sometimes even the unmistakable echoes of crying, and although she tried not to, she couldn’t help but hurt for him.
She had loved Jaime Lannister, and she had loved him as fiercely as the sun shone. Every day she had spent with him in Winterfell had been as pleasurable as the last, in many more ways than one. Brienne had never experienced such emotional and physical feelings.
Every evening after they had made love in what they then called their bed in the after glow of their climax’s, Brienne religiously lay her head between his neck and shoulder and breathed out words into his sweat-slicked neck that she tried not to remember admitting to him for they were now only embarrassing. However, Jaime had spoken to her so softly too, declarations of love and devotion slipping effortlessly past his kiss swollen lips and curling around her heart all too comfortably.
She should have known back then that the security she felt when she was held within his tight embrace was foreshadowing the bad that was to come.
They had laughed together behind late night gauntlets of wine whilst cunrled up in the furs of their bed, they had smiled at one another across the courtyard where Brienne was training the newly healed soldier and where Jaime was hauling around rubble from the wreckage. They had made love and they had cried each other’s names out to all of the seven, and to most of the occupants in Winterfell’s chambers which were awake to listen. Kisses were shared, words that could be mistaken for poetry too. Everything tasted so bittersweet, and she was a fool back then to have ignored it.
She was still a fool now to harbour the feelings for Jaime even after his betrayal.
Brienne sighed into the gentle wind that fluttered around her head, wisps of blond hair that had bleached slightly with so much exposure to the heat of the sun over the past two months blowing back in the breeze.
“Father,” She whispered, her sapphire blue eyes staring longingly up into the heavens where she knew Selwyn was watching over her from. “I miss you terribly. I am going to retire for the evening. All of my love.” After bowing her head in respect, she turned on the heel of her shoe and turned to walk back into the castle.
She was determined tonight to see Jaime. It had been much too long and they had yet to talk about anything that had happened since their times in Winterfell. He owed her that much at least now that she was allowing him to stay in her home, on her island. It angered her, she had to admit to herself that much, to know that he had a place to live and reside because of her and he had not even muttered his thanks yet. Of course, the journey from Kings Landing on the boat to Tarth had led to a few encounters where he had bowed her head to her, whether it be out of respect or to simply avoid her eyes, she was not yet sure. She would soon find out though.
Brienne knocked on Jaime’s door a total of three times before she let her hand drop back down to her side, instinctively reaching to lay it on Oathkeeper, only to realise she no longer wore the sword around her waist as often as she once had. Sighing, she simply waited for a response, knocking twice more when her patience wore thin.
Just as she was about to call out his name, the wooden door opened, and Jaime Lannister poked his head through the gap he had drawn.
“Brienne.” He was the first to speak, his voice hoarse and evidently rougher than the greying overgrown stubble on his face.
“Ser Jaime.” She countered when she collated enough moisture in her mouth to speak. “May I come in?”
With hesitance, Jaime opened the door further, and Brienne could now see that he wore the same clothes as the last time she had briefly seen him, though obviously much more dishevelled now, rather than the proud reds and golds he had once worn to represent the house he had grown up in. Those emerald eyes she had lost herself in so many times when they had laid together in their bed now seemed lost themselves, less brighter.
“You may. This is your home after all.”
With a grateful nod of her head, she stepped into his chambers and looked around the room. Before she could even begin to think about what a state the room was in, what a complete disaster Jaime had made it, he spoke.
“You look different.”
Turning her head to look over her shoulder, sapphires met emeralds, though the contact only lasted briefly before she ducked her head to look down at the wooden floor.
Jaime was right, she did look different. Instead of her normal attire or tunics and breeches under heavy armour, she wore a dress made of a blue material that was as deep as the depths of the oceans that stormed in her eyes. To represent the sigil of house Tarth, golden suns were stitched onto the long sleeves which seemed to glow in the dim light of the room which streamed in through the transparent curtains. Attached to her shoulders was a cape, though not a thick shroud like she had worn in Winterfell, but a blue sheer material which too had stitches of suns and moons on the fabric in golden and silver thread and flowed elegantly down to the floor to match the length of her dress. It was the same one her mother had worn when she was still breathing, and Brienne had insisted she wore it to honour her to her father. Though, of course, she must honour the man whom had given her such love she could have never imagined, and so on top of her head lay a band with a golden sun hung on a chain attached to it which rested against her forehead. All Evenstar’s before her had worn it, and her own father had placed it on her head personally before he had passed. It made her weep, and still did sometimes.
“I know,” She agreed, nodding her head briefly. Her voice was quiet, not with fear - never with fear - but with uncertainty. She hadn’t spoken to Jaime in at least two months, not properly anyways. She didn’t know what to expect.
“Why brings you here, my lady?” Jaime asked, filling the silence of the room and silencing the loud bickering in her mind as he closed the door behind him.
Brienne noticed that he no longer wore his golden hand, now instead just let his shirt hang loose over his wrist as if his hand were still there. Looking around as if to locate his missing declarative piece - as that was the only thing it could be described as - she turned herself to face him, the graceful flow of her dress following her every move. How she hated such clothing.
“I wished to speak with you, Ser,” She explained, clasping her hands in front of her, ever unsure of what to do with them when she could not hold Oathkeeper on her waist. “You and I have some speaking to do.”
Jaime raised one eyebrow, nodding slowly along to what Brienne was saying. He had appreciated the days he had alone in his room, he had grieved for his sister and his unborn child for far too long now, but he had supposed that It was because he was so detached from the world that he allowed himself an excessive mourning period.
“My lady-“
“Ser,” Brienne reminded him quickly. She had excused him the first few times, but she was no real lady. It irritated her to be called such a thing by the man who had knighted her.
“Brienne,” Jaime retaliated. “I know all too well what you’re referring to when you say we need to speak, Ive expected this conversation many a time ever since I arrived here. I’m inclined to ask why you have waited so long?”
“I respected your privacy, Ser. You were grieving, I wished not to invade your mind with your acquaintance with me.”
Jaime’s eyes flashed with something that she would have sworn was pain at her choice of words, but her stance in front of him paired with her height cast a shadow over him, blocking him from the already dim sunlight, so she could not see the glow of his hurt.
“You were not my acquaintance, Brienne. You were more than that, you know you were.”
His hurt had stemmed from that one word she had used to describe their relationship; acquaintance. God’s, an acquaintance was nothing compared to what Brienne was to him. No, Brienne was his sun in the darkness that had consumed his life, and it was Cersei that had been that godforsaken shadow. Brienne had brought colour into his world, had fought off the darkness through blood, sweat and tears and still prevailed. For her to think she was just an acquaintance to him made his gut boil with an anger he had tried to convince himself to hold back on. Anger at himself for ever leaving her for Cersei.
Why had the Gods made him love someone so hateful?
It was the same phrase that drilled holes into his heart every day, he did not know why he had been so compelled to leave Brienne for Cersei, and it remained a mistake in many ways. But Cersei was - and always would be - his sister above anything else. His twin. She was his sister first, his lover next, and then the mother to his children last. But after all three children had been delivered to the seven, and after Jaime had first laid his lips on Brienne’s, Cersei became nothing but his sister. Though, she was still family, and Jaime was glad at least that she did not die alone.
“No matter, that did not stop you from leaving.” Brienne’s voice had always been strong, but now it cut through him with more pain than any swipe of her sword could ever cause.
“I know I did, but Cersei was my sister, and she still is. I did not want her to die alone.”
“I respect that, Jaime, I do. But my frustration and pain is not caused by you wanting to be with your sister when she died, it is caused by the fact that you were all too willing to die with her.”
Jaime gulped at her tone as she continued with a blaze lighting in her ocean eyes; a storm was brewing.
“You left me in my robe outside at night time with the intention of dying with her. You arrived in Kings Landing, and as Tyrion told me, he had planned for you to escape with Cersei. You were willing to sail away with her, to start a new life with her.”
He opened his mouth to answer her, but when he rose his gaze to meet her face after it had wondered to his feet, he saw the prickle of tears in her eyes, and he shut himself up because a sound could escape.
“But what about me?” She choked, her voice cracking.
The words destroyed him. They gave him a swooping sensation that felt like a first of gold to his gut. His eyes shone with grief as his hand reached out to touch her cheek, breathing out her name in such a hushed tone he couldn’t even hear it himself. But his hand was pushed away before it could brush her skin.
“What about me, Jaime?” She repeated, her crooked lips quivering at the effort to keep her tears at bay. “You wanted to run off with Cersei, you almost did, but what about me? You told me you would stay with me on our first night together, you kissed me, you made love to me, you loved me, Jaime. You left me, and you wanted to leave me with her by your side.”
She could see how his shoulders had slumped in shame through the pools of tears, how his hair fell over his eyes as if to block her gaze from reaching his face. This was not the same type of pity she had seen when he had lost his hand for her, nor the type when they bathed together at Harrenhall. This was a different type of shame; it was a shame that he deserved, and he knew it this time.
Still, he did not know what to say.
“I know i’m not selfish for wanting you to myself, for wanting you to be mine. But you’re a cruel, cruel man for making me believe you were only to leave. You would have been fine, you would have been happy with Cersei i’m sure, but what about me? What would happiness be to me without you? Nothing.”
It was then that the tears came for both of them. Brienne’s rolled fiercely down her face whilst her teeth bit down on her bottom lip to prevent any pitiful noise from escaping her despite the pain in her chest that ripped her inside out. Jaime’s tears dripped to the floor as his head was pointing towards it, shaking his head at his own stupidity.
The stupidest Lannister.
“I was happy with you.” He whispered eventually, watching closely as her hands clenched and unclenched at her hips. “You made me smile. You still do.”
“But it wasn’t enough.”
Jaime forced his head up to meet hers, a desperation evident beneath the pain of his expression. Despite her weak attempts at pushing him away, he rose his left hand up to her face, cupping her jaw in the same way Brienne had done before he has left her. The realisation struck him harder than any fist could have done.
“It was more than enough. You were more than enough. You were everything.”
“You speak of the past. All I am to you now is a tenant; a person who gives you home.”
“No,” He countered fiercely through his teeth, his body urging itself closer to hers whilst she cried silently behind her closed eyelids. “No, you are more than you will ever understand. Cersei was bound to me the moment I was born, I was her twin, it was a relationship I was forced to have. But you,” He choked, “I chose you. One of the only honourable choices I ever got to make without her voice in my head telling me not to. I chose you because you were everything, and Cersei was never going to take those feelings away from me.”
Brienne’s quivering hands had made their way to his face, stroking the sides of his greying beard and his tear stained cheeks, but this time it was not her that was doing the begging.
She needed to hold onto him, to make sure she knew the words were real as to clutch onto them to mend her broken heart. Though no matter how hard she tried, that was never going to happen.
“But you still went back to her. To die with her. To live with her. You would have not have given me a second thought.” Her words, she knew, were true, and there was no pain that she had experienced to beat the one tearing through her now.
“Brienne, please, I-“
“Do not say it.” Her voice was soft, wavering still, but soft. She let her hands slide away from his face, her hands grabbing onto his forearm to push away from her own “I could not bear it.”
“I love you.”
“I told you not to say-“
“But I do!” He was a broken man in too many ways to comprehend, but nothing shattered him more than to watch Brienne’s eyes glaze over with a complete look of nothingness in those eyes he had woken up to every night back in Winterfell, and the eyes he fell asleep with hopes to dream about.
“You did. Once.”
The slam of the wooden door as she left Jaime Lannister alone in the dark was a distant echo to her.