You Grew Mad in Your Grief

by lilfoxdemon

Summary:

Game of Thrones Western AU

Divergence: Jon Snow kills the Night King and Brienne of Tarth convinces Jaime Lannister to stay with her in the North.

Chapter 1: Here in the After

For the first time in a long time, Brienne of Tarth was warm. She had spent so long in the cold, sleeping rough on the King's Road, that she had forgotten what it felt like for her bones not to ache from the deep chill of a desert night. Now the fire crackled across the room, filling the small space with a heat so luxurious it bordered on too much.

Her body ached something fierce in both familiar and unfamiliar ways. The battle against the Night King had come and gone. She was lucky to not count herself as one of the reanimated dead, thrall of the undead king's whims. What was dead would stay dead after Jon's narrow victory in Godswood Cavern.

No. All of those familiar aches of battle etched into her flesh for the rest of her days were not the focus of her attention. Instead it was the ache between her legs, wholly novel to her, the virgin sheriff. Well, formerly virgin. One admission of her own lack of experience and Jaime had come flocking to her. Not once had he strayed from her bed in the fortnight since.

Flashes of the first night rose to the surface of her mind's eye: the flushed face of a drunken Jaime; the pair stumbling from the town center where every man, woman and child gathered to celebrate their survival; the first brush of his lips against hers, so glancing it could have almost been an accident had it not been for the slurred "I love you" they carried with them. The awkward shedding of clothes and Jaime's embarrassed jokes of never having thought he'd be undressing a fellow deputy. The weight of his body on hers as they collapsed onto the bed.

Brienne moved to face the man in question only to find his side of the bed, where he had lain to rest for the past fortnight, was empty. She started then, pulled from the lull of sleep and the last dregs of drink tugging at her mind to rest. Alert in an unfamiliar way, she faltered when choosing what to grab: revolver or nightgown? Certain he was in no immediate danger, she opted for her gown, hardly stopping long enough to shuffle into her unlaced boots before ushering herself out of her quarters.

She found him down by the street, a determined grimace on his face as he attempted to pack his horse with one hand. Brienne had, until then, silently offered him help without making him feel like she thought him lesser for the wound he suffered on her behalf. She hadn't let him feel the sting of that particular debility. The black tendrils of disappointment clawed at the edges of her heart. Jaime refused to meet her gaze.

"Don't."

The word had tumbled from her lips before she had a moment to stop herself, to think of how desperate it made her sound. Jaime paused then, the rigid set in his shoulders collapsing just a little.

"I have to."

Brienne clenched her jaw, willing herself to stay steady.

"You and I both know she's gonna level that city."

Jaime continued to pack his saddle bags, slowing to a halt. He finally met her gaze, eyes screwed in a mixture of determination and guilt.

"I ain't never backed down from a fight before. What makes you think I'm gonna start now?"

Brienne stood incredulous for a moment. She knew this was his conditioning. Everything he had ever done had been for his sister's benefit; rarely in his life had he made a decision that solely benefitted him. She knew this, because he had shared more than her bed in the last few weeks. They'd spent years at that point learning the bends that shaped each others' minds. This was Cercei speaking, almost as clearly as if she were the one packing her brother's bags.

"Since when do you pick the losing side?"

Jaime scoffed, going back to securing and resecuring his saddle bags with renewed energy.

"You're a smart man, Jaime Lannister," Brienne said, stepping closer. "A great man."

"You think I'm great? I crippled a boy because he posed a threat to my sister's power. I slit the throat of my own cousin to get back to her. I'm not great. I'm just as bad as she is."

"I said great not good." Brienne took Jaime's face in hers, forcing him to look at her. Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration and she tried to will the understanding into him. "A great man is great regardless of what side of good and bad he falls. No matter how much poison a snake manages to get into him. You understand me?"

Jaime nodded, face skrewed in frustration.

"Now tell me, Jaime. How well has your snake treated you? Does the death she offers truly call to you or is that her poison still coursing through your veins? Because I think you deserve a chance to meet the man you are without it."

"And what? You're offering the antidote?" Jaime scoffed, shaking his head. "You, Brienne, are a miracle in many respects but you sure as hell aren't a miracle worker."

"I'm offering you a chance," she said, shaking her head. "If you still want to share my bed after you're done rooting her out of you, I'll gladly offer it to you. If you choose to part ways with me, so be it. But that'll be your choice, Jaime, not hers."

Jaime paused, shoulders drooping a little. Brienne watched his jaw clench and unclench.

"We came into this world together."

"That doesn't mean you have to leave it together. She's made her bed and now it's her time to lay in it. Don't let her drag you down, too."

Jaime seemed to deflate at that. He looked back at her, tears threatening to break past his facade of indifference.

"She's carrying my child."

"Which only means she'll never back down. I don't know either of them particularly well, but neither your sister or Daenerys seem like the kind of people to back down when it comes to their children."

Brienne faught the urge to demand Jaime stay. She knew any attempt to shape his intentions through orders would backfire immensely. This wasn't the time to stand on principle, no matter how clear the right answer for him was. Or at least what she hoped his right answer would be. Jaime was many things, but willing to follow orders was not one of them. Not when it came to Cercei.

Jaime stood frozen, looking for something in her eyes. Sincerity, perhaps? Brienne's breath caught in her chest, the constriction tugging just a little too much at the edges of her senses to do anything but keep herself upright. This was Jaime. Her Jaime. Not the Kingslayer who took the life of a mad businessman willing to kill his workers if it meant he gained another buck. Not the cocky swordsman who could never be defeated. No, this was the Jaime who gave his hand to protect her virtue from a gang of outlaws seeking to rape her and turn him in to the inheritor of the Stark fortune.

Whatever Jaime was looking for, he seemed to find it. His head collapsed into her chest, sobs wracking his body as she held him up. They stood like that, him crying the tears of mourning, knowing he would never see the woman who had been with him since birth again. Regardless of how she felt about the inappropriateness of their relationship, Brienne knew this was needed, that he needed to mourn to start healing from the way she had spun a web of deceit and manipulation around him their entire lives.

"Come back to bed," Brienne said, running her fingers through his short cropped hair, wondering if it had always been that gray. "Come home with me."

Jaime nodded into her chest before raising himself, not fully straight but enough to follow her back to their home. The crackle of the fire greeted them through the door. It wasn't much. Lord knew it wasn't anything compared to the estates Jaime and she had grown up on, but it was home. Their home, if he chose it to be.

Brienne helped Jaime undress and navigated him to the bed. He looked down at her, a haunted look in his eyes before he sank into the bed beside her, curling into her like a lost child. They stayed that way for the rest of the night, Jaime alternating between weeping and an exhausted silence as Brienne rocked him, smoothed his hair and held him.

When the next day rolled around, Jaime rose. He wiped his eyes of the tears, squared his shoulders and went about his day as if nothing had happened. Brienne stared at him in confusion as he went about dressing himself. He paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Thank you."

"Of course," was all she managed to say before he was gone.

Jaime filled his following days helping with the rebuilding efforts in Winterfell. The town had suffered massive damages in the fight aginst the mountain dwelling hordes of the undead and he had placed himself at the center of the rebuilding efforts. He started making amends for the damages he and his family had wrought, not least of all with Sansa, who rightfully mistrusted him after discovering he was the cause of her life's anguish. She only offered him a chance at survival because of Brienne.

Jaime worked hard for weeks, something Brienne would have faulted him for if it weren't for the fact that it was clearly keeping his mind off of the South. A month came and went. Two. Each day passing settled like a permanent weight of lead in Brienne's stomach watching Jaime work himself to the bone to make amends with the Starks.

They, rightfully, remained weary of his involvement. They owned practically everything in Winterfell, were a family of some of the first settlers in those parts from out East and some said they had ties to royalty back in Europe. The Lannisters were big shots from untitled old money who thought their veins of gold meant they owned the world. The Starks were an earthier folk, comfortable in their money but no less than they were the dirt beneath their feet. It takes a hearty people to survive in the mountains.

When word came from the South that Daenerys had won the battle as expected, Jaime was working on rebuilding a hole in the wall the size of three men. Brienne was training with her pistol, shooting down targets in the desert. Sansa approached her, slowly, dressed in her usual black get up, her flaming red hair braided and thrown over one shoulder. Brienne had never understood how she could stomach to walk around in dresses out there in the heat.

"Sansa."

"Brienne."

"I reckon you already know why I'm here."

Brienne nodded, looking off into the distance at the small form of Jaime's body toiling in the sun.

"Don't let him destroy anything else."

"Those days are behind him."

"We'll see. I've got a brother who can't walk that says different."

Brienne holstered her gun, taking a deep breath before setting off to fetch Jaime. The familiar weight of apprehension settled into her shoulders, the tightening in her core in preparation for the other shoe to finally drop. Jaime was shirtless, carrying lumber from one location to another as others hammered nails into place. He was as precise and calculating as he was on the battlefield in his task. He looked almost happy, which only made the weight in Brienne's stomach grow heavier. He handed over the set of boards he was holding and caught sight of her. He gave her a grin, jogging to meet her.

"What do I owe this pleasure?" he asked, smiling, as he wiped the sweat from his brow and pulled her in for a kiss. Brienne ignored the betrayal of butterflies in her stomach as she anchored herself for what was to come. Jaime pulled back, the good humor clouding instantly when he read the sorrow on her face.

"No."

"Jaime-"

"No!"

Jaime's face contorted, the barest hint of tears glistening at the edges of his eyes. He looked around at the Northerners around him, all paused in their work at his outburst, some with hands gripping the handles of hammers and tools. His eyes grew crazed, paranoid, as if anyone around him might strike a fatal blow to him.

"Jaime, come here."

"No!"

He swirled around then, fury in his eyes. He charged forward until he was standing face to face with her. Brienne thought for a moment that he might hit her, was prepared for it, really, as she assumed anyone bringing him the news of Cercei's death would.

"You did this! I should have been with her!"

"You'd be dead, too, if I let you leave!"

"So what?!" Jaime said, throwing his hands in the air. "So. What. She died alone. Alone! She's never been alone! Not even-"

His words cracked, the tears threatening to burst through the dam he'd held inside for months waiting for this day to come. It was one thing to know something was coming intellectually and another to feel the weight of its reality entirely. Jaime swallowed, drawing himself up to his full height. He pushed past Brienne, marching through the town until he reached their home, or rather, his horse.

"Where are you going?"

"Godswood Cavern."

"I'm coming with you."

"Like hell you are."

Jaime turned to Brienne. Brienne took a step back. He was fuming.

"I'm going to Godswood Cavern. I'll be back when I can stomach looking at you again."

With that, he flung himself onto his horse and rode off into the desert, leaving Brienne with nothing but remorse.

Chapter 2: I'll Be the Shadow, You'll be the Light

In total, Jaime was away for ten days. By then, the sharp terror of losing him had given way to an ever-present, bone weary nervousness perpetually at the forefront of Brienne's mind. This man who had been a constant in her life for years, gone in an instant. Yet as exhausting as the fretting was, she couldn't find it in herself to regret convincing him to stay, to live.

Jaime came home just as abruptly as he'd left. Brienne fell asleep to an empty bed and woke with him curled in on himself beside her. He had lost weight, understandably, as she wasn't convinced there was anything of substance to eat near the cavern, especially in the wake of the Night King's ravishment of the region. But he was there, in her bed, safe.

She resisted the urge to touch him, afraid she would pull him from what little peace he may have gotten in the madness of his grief. Instead, she gathered herself and began about her day as if nothing had happened. She slipped over to the kitchens at the saloon, snagging a few hard rolls and some cheese for their breakfast. She was brewing the coffee over the remnants of the night's fire when Jaime rose from his slumber.

"There better be some of that for me."

The corners of Brienne's lips twitched, but she remained silent. Instead, she turned, pouring the strong black liquid into each of their tin mugs on the rickety wooden table they were to share. Jaime's face softened.

"You want to break your fast with me after what I did? What I said?"

"Yes."

Brienne offered no more words. She simply pulled her chair from beneath the table and took a seat, starting in on her own meal. Jaime crept from the bed, wincing here and there as he did so. From this angle, Brienne could see the places where the sunburnt skin had begun to crack. She remained silent until he sank into the seat across from her and took a sip from his mug.

"Fuck, that's good."

"Fairly certain that's just the dehydration."

"Hm." Jaime frowned. "Might be the hunger."

"Probably both."

Jaime's mouth twitched at the corners, but he didn't give her a full smile. His eyes were harder than they had been when he left. It struck Brienne that perhaps this was the first time in his adult life that he had experienced a loss of someone he truly cared for. His father was his father, and obviously losing his mother at such a young age had impacted him, but Cercei had been his world, as incredibly unhealthy as that had all been. And now she was gone.

"There's been another telegram," Brienne announced, turning serious. "Daenerys is dead. Jon killed her. They want us at the table when they figure out what to do with King's Landing."

Brienne was prepared for Jaime to be upset. She was not prepared for him to laugh so hard he cried. He banged his fist on the table as he did so, spilling coffee onto his rolls. Brienne raised an eyebrow at him, unsure what this new behavior meant for her love.

"Then what was the fucking point?" he asked, laughter subsiding. "All this for nothing. Just death. Cercei… Cercei used to say that when you play the game of thrones you win or you die. She was wrong. There's no winning. You just die. You fight and you fight for what? A damned uncomfortable chair and a territory's worth of people ready to slit your throat. I'm done. I'm rebuilding Winterfell and staying put if they'll have me. The South can have their fucking chairs."

Brienne was stunned into silence. She wasn't quite sure what this turn of events would mean for her, but she was sure he was going to tell her. Instead, she grabbed a piece of cheese and a little bread and shoved it in her mouth. Jaime would either remain a fixture in her life or he wouldn't. Either way, she was staying put. She had promised Catelyn she would protect her daughters and, while Sansa had so far proven herself to be particularly adept at preserving herself, she still felt responsible for the young woman.

"Marry me."

Brienne choked. Really choked. Jaime had to slap her on the back to keep her from actually inhaling her roll. When she had recovered enough, she stood at her full height, towering over Jaime, who had returned to his seat. And she slapped him across the face.

"Jaime Lannister, I am a deputy. I've worked my ass off to get half the respect you were given from the time you were a boy. I'm not throwing that away on some grief fueled bender for you. You want to propose to me, you do it when you're of sound mind. Now, eat your food. We head out at noon."

Jaime rubbed his jaw, ego a little deflated but obviously a little turned on at Brienne's display. He always did like a woman who wasn't afraid to slap him around a bit. He opeend his mouth, no doubt to throw some one liner quip at Brienne about how he was the one who gave her the title of deputy in the first place.

"Eat."

Jaime huffed then, reaching for his food. He was quickly placated as the fatty cheese graced his tongue, as Brienne suspected he would be. They passed the rest of their meal in silent companionship, as they had so many times before, whether on the King's Road or in this very room.

They took half the Northern force to the South. The trip itself was rather uneventful, though the wreckage the Dothraki carved in their march to their destination was a sight to behold. They had a bone to pick with colonizers, and Daenerys had them convinced she was the way to pick it. Brienne honestly wasn't so sure that was incorrect with the state of the burned homesteads they encountered. This was Dothraki land, after all. The Andals were the original invaders.

The road side was littered with animal carcasses and charred human remains, those who had proven disloyal to Daenerys and small township mayors who refused to bend the knee in the name of her new "country." Brienne struggled to keep the contents of her stomach each day. The stench only grew the further down the mountain and into the desert they went.

It took them three weeks to make it to King's Landing, the company town mad old Aerys Targaryen, who'd named himself king of the mining town he'd inherited from his father, had built up into a sprawling metropolis all bearing his name. When Jaime and Brienne had last been within the city limits, it had been filled with all manner of trading posts, cathedrals, libraries and universities.

It was a pile of rubble now. The wounded were moved in whatever manner of contraptions those who cared for them could put together to wheel, push and carry them from the smoldering remains. Corpses were stacked in open graves waiting for burial. Brienne kept her face forward, the familiar mask of a mercenary slipping on the closer to King's Landing they got. The pair were formidable to anyone looking on, two deputies squared and secure on their horses amidst the rubble. No one dared touch Sansa or Bran.

As they turned the bend around the last corner before they made it to the rubble that was the Red Mansion, Jaime started. Tyrion was there, directing Northern men in cleaning efforts. Jaime spurred his horse on, the men surrounding Tyrion scrambling for their weapons as he frantically tried to call them down. Jaime nearly threw himself from his horse to get to his brother, lifting the man into his arms despite his protests.

When he placed him down, Tyrion and Jaime stared at each other for a long moment. Long enough for Brienne to approach on her own. Tyrion looked to her, offering her a nod.

"Miss Brienne."

"It's deputy now," Jaime corrected. Tyrion raised an appreciative eyebrow but didn't seem all that surprised.

"Deputy," he said. "I'm happy you were able to make it."

"I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Lady Sansa," Tyrion said, directing his attention to the young woman who was once his wife.

"Tyrion," Sansa said, nodding her head in recognition but offering him nothing else. Tyrion cleared his throat.

"Everyone else is already here. Would you like some time to refresh yourselves before we get down to business?"

"I'd just as rather get this over with, if it's fine with you?" Brienne said. Tyrion nodded.

"I figured you would say something to that effect. Everyone is awaiting your arrival. I'll have them gather for the meeting now." Tyrion motioned to the men he had been managing, who brought his own horse from around the corner. He mounted, drawing them further away from the Red Mansion towards the old Dragon Pit.

"I abandoned her in the end," Tyrion said from this place in the lead.

"You and me both," Jaime said. Brienne wasn't quite sure they were speaking of the same "her." She didn't quite think it mattered.

"If it's any consolation, if I had to be left with a sibling after all of this, I'm glad it's you. No offence. I know you've had a…soft spot for our dear sister."

Jaime remained silent, a grimace playing on his face. They rode the rest of the way in their own worlds of grief.

Chapter 3: We Will Break Away Together

After a long, silent ride through the crumbling remains of the city, the group tied their horses to trees that survived the assault on the city and made their way to the crumbling ruins of the Dragonpit. There was a crowd of minor heirs and learned men gathered beneath the tents erected to shade them from the Southern sun.

"Where's Jon?" Sansa asked, taking stock of the men around her.

"He's our prisoner," Grey Worm, Daenerys's top mercenery, said.

"He's still an heir. He should be here."

"This is our city now. We do what the hell we want with our prisoners."

"I've got about 10,000 good Northern men outside the city limits all loyal to him. I'd urge you to rethink your stance on Jon Snow being your business."

"And we've got at least 10,000 Unsullied who think he is."

"Some of y'all are quick to go back on your word like a bunch of yellow-bellied cowards," Yara, heir to a Salt Lake area mining company spoke up. "I came here following Daenerys. Jon can rot for all I care."

"Sometimes you need to go back on your word to stop a madman. Or woman." Jaime's words cut through the chatter. "I wouldn't be so quick to judge a man for acting with honor in the face of those with none."

"Fancy words for a man who broke his own oaths, Kingslayer."

"Don't-" Brienne started.

"Yes. I killed my 'king,'" Jaime said, taking his seat beside Tyrion. "And saved thousands. I think I know a thing or two about sacrifice in the face of tyrants."

"And you think you're the only one? What, because you stuck your sword in an old mad man's back? Daenerys freed us all from your sister's insanity in the end. Let the Unsullied and Dothraki do with them what they will. I won't stop them."

"You keep talking about murdering my brother and I'll slit your throat myself," Arya spoke up. Brienne fought the urge to smile, forever feeling the glow like an older sibling when the young Arya spoke. She reminded her so much of herself, but with far more confidence than she ever felt in herself at her age.

"Friends," Davos, Brienne's one time enemy turned brother in arms, called the meeting together. "Now ain't the time for fighting amongst ourselves. We need to figure out what to do with King's Landing before we start arguing over what to do with Jon. This is King's Mining business and whoever's in charge here gets to decide what happens to Jon."

"There ain't nobody in charge," Yohn, the youngest heir at 10 and 8 years, said. He was sat in his seat with the grace of a man who thought he was too good for what he was doing.

"Yet," Tyrion said. He took the center of the little tents, squinting in the light of the blinding desert sun at high noon. "That's why we're here. We need to figure out who's in charge of this part of the territory and you all know it. There's no way King's Landing can go on with this many people living here without somebody running it all."

"Let them run it themselves or give it back to the Dothraki I say," Grey Worm spat. "I don't care what happens to these colonizers. They can die for all I care. I'm sailing home once this is done."

"At this point, we're the most powerful people in the territory," Tyrion said. "We have to choose someone. The Targaryen line is over."

"Get on with it, then," Grey Worm said, turning to sit. His jaw clenched, but he remained silent. The group looked at each other, no one wanting to raise their hands to recommend themselves but obviously mistrusting everyone else. Edmure Tully moved to stand, the great oaf, but one look from Sansa and he was back in his seat before he could say a word.

It was Samwell Tarley who spoke first, to the surprise of Brienne, who always took for a man of reading over sparring of any kind, even of the mind. He stood, his body almost an apology before he even spoke.

"Do we have to choose anyone?" he asked. "The people of King's Landing have been operating on their own just fine. We can just let it be a free city and let them decide what to do with the mine."

"I see you've been reading that Marx fellow," Edmure laughed, pulling derisive laughter from the rest of the crowd.

"And we'll give them all some of our money for hospitals and libraries," Yohn joked. Samwell shifted his eyes around for a moment and sat down, cowed by their derision. Edmure turned to Jaime, who had remained quiet past his original outburst. Brienne's stomach churned.

"I suppose you'll be aiming for your spot on the proverbial throne?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Once a Lannister, always a Lannister."

"I couldn't want anything less," Jaime admitted. "I'm here to make sure you lot don't fuck everything up again."

"Who then?"

Jaime's eyes slid across the group, making eye contact with everyone there. Sansa looked away in disinterest when he landed on her.

"You and I both now I'm never leaving the North after this. We're an independent territory as of today. You can keep your southern bickering."

"Noted. As am I, if you'll have me?"

Sansa turned back to him, scrutinizing him. Jaime was the portrait of attrition. If Brienne didn't know him better, she would almost assume it was a performance. The corners of Sansa's mouth curled as she offered him a slight nod of acceptance. Brienne's heart fluttered. The anxiety drained from Jaime's face, replaced with a warmth as he immediately locked eyes with Brienne. That warmth was all for her.

Jaime's gaze fell, then, on his brother, who was standing uncomfortably in the center of everything. The group's eyes followed, settling on him. Tyrion started to shake his head no.

"No, no, no," Tyrion said, still shaking his head. "Half the people hate me for helping Daenerys and the other half hate me for abandoning her."

"So they're already used to being disappointed with you," Jaime joked. "That's half the battle over already."

"And out of all of us, you're the one who's had the most experience even being on a board," Yohn joined in.

"And you've always had your head in a book since you were a child, brother," Jaime said. "You've lived thousands of lives."

"As has Bran," Tyrion said, turning to the young man. "Who is my nomination for the position."

"He can't have children," Sansa started. "Besides, he's not even interested in leading. If anyone, I vote for Brienne. She's the only one loyal and respected enough in the territory to keep unrest at bay."

Brienne started at the tossing of her name into the hat. So far, she had remained blissfully exempt from any role in this save as an heiress to a sizeable fortune from Tarth Industries. Her? Leader of the biggest city in the territory? She shook her head in earnest rejection.

"I'd like to return North with you and Jaime, Sansa," she said. "I have no desire to be in any form of leadership."

"That changes nothing about how fit I believe you are to lead," Sansa said, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her nose. "You'd be a great deal better than any man here."

There were a few scoffs from the men gathered with them, but a few nodded their ascent, as did Yara. Tyrion nodded his head, looking around.

"I say we take a vote," Tyrion said, nodding his head at the group. "There are three contenders now. Bran, Brienne and myself. I say whoever receives the second highest number of votes should be Hand."

Brienne waited with baited breath as the voting was done. She hoped beyond all hope she would be able to return North with Jaime and start the peaceful life she had been dreaming of for years. She knew if she were to be chosen for either position, her sense of honor and duty wouldn't allow her to refuse, no matter how little she wanted the position.

When all was said and done, Brienne had received four votes, a paltry sum compared to Bran's seven and Tyrion's eight. The younger Lannister brother hung his head low as the hands affirming his ascent to leadership raised. Brienne locked eyes with Jaime, who had voted for his own brother over her. The two beamed at each other.

"Bran," Tyrion said. "Will you be my Hand?"

"Why do you think I came all this way?" the youngest Stark replied in that distant, almost dreamlike tone he always spoke in.

"Then it's settled," Tyrion said, a weight in his voice now. "I'll be leading King's Landing. Bran will be my Hand, aiding me in all things. The North will be its own territory, free of the influence of the South's politics."

"And what of Jon?" Grey Worm spoke up, killing the mood. Tyrion's face soured more.

"Jon will be banished," Tyrion said, a note of finality to his voice. "He is no longer a citizen of this territory."

"He is welcome in mine," Sansa stated. Grey Worm started. She simply raised a hand at him. "You can't fault me for offering grace to my brother. Besides, you'll be gone before the fortnight. Would you rather I lie to you about banishing him as well and then not follow through with it?"

"That is not a strong enough punishment," Grey Worm spat. "Not for what he's done."

"He was in love with the woman," Tyrion said. "You know as well as I how smitten he was with his queen. His punishment is to live every day of his life with the knowledge that he took the life of the woman he loved."

Grey Worm considered that for a moment. His jaw clenched but he assented, clearly outnumbered in this.

"Fuck this country," he said, standing and leaving without much more fanfare. The other Unsullied warriors followed him, presumably to prepare for their departure. Tyrion turned to Bran.

"Send Northern men to fetch Jon from the prison. I don't trust him not to do something stupid."

"Already done before we arrived here."

"You're going to make a wonderful Hand."

"I know."

The party from the North stayed in King's Landing just long enough for Jon to be released. Arya separated from them, announcing she was heading further West to see what was beyond the mountains practically as soon as the meeting was over. A few of the Northerners volunteered to travel with her, excited as she was to explore that which was unknown to them.

To the surprise of no one, Grey Worm attempted to abscond with Jon in the night. He was met with a dozen Northerners ready to protect the man who defeated the Night King to their last breath. The Unsullied insisted on escorting the party to the newly associated border between the North and South, to which Tyrion reluctantly agreed.

And then they were free. Brienne found herself sharing her bed roll with Jaime from that night on, now that the fear of Unsullied retalliation was gone. It was rough living, not unlike what they had done when they first met, when she was tasked with exchanging him for Sansa and Arya in the first days of the war. They were built for rough living, the two of them. It was what forged their relationship.

Sansa took to the role of leader as excellently as someone who had always dreamed of that life since girlhood. She directed the men with a firm but loving hand and they obeyed out of respect. She was of the North, had found herself under seige in the South and had found her way home to them through the roughest of paths. She was the best of her mother and father in one.

They returned to much fanfare, made all the more ecstatic as Sansa announced that the North would be its own territory from then on out. A celebration was called for, the last for a long time as they hunkered down to prepare for a return to rebuilding.

It was at the height of the celebrations, much like the first night Jaime had shared her bed, that he made his case to her. Over a tankard of ale each, he reached for her hand. She did not pull it back.

"Brienne," he said, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "I proposed to you a month ago now."

"No, you tried to propose to me a month ago," Brienne laughed, drink warming her cheeks. Jaime grew flustered but pressed on.

"All the same," he said. "I was being an ass then, but I meant it in earnest as much as I mean it now. I want to share more than your bed. I want you to have all of me, and me all of you. You're perhaps the first person to truly see me, the first to see past the facade I lived with. And to my surprise you didn't run. You didn't try to use what you learned against me. You just held me."

Brienne's eyes watered, the drink already making her head swim. Jaime's eyes shone with the start of tears as he continued looking deeply into hers.

"Let me be the one to hold you," Jaime said, smiling a gentle smile just for her. "Be my wife."

"Jaime Lannister," she said, clasping his hand in hers. "That was much better than the last time."

"Is that a yes?"

"Of course it's a yes, you idiot," Brienne said, standing. She moved around the table, pulling her man up from his seat to kiss him deeply. Jaime sank into the kiss, for once not caring what the other men may think as he so clearly was not the one in the lead here. Brienne broke the kiss.

"I'm yours," she said, breathless. "Forever."

"Forever."

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of You Grew Mad in Your Grief