Chapter Text
Brienne woke with a start. It had been a nightmare this time rather than a pleasant dream.
She was back at Winterfell in this dream, fighting the army of the dead with Podrick and Jaime by her side. Brienne sighed as she sat up in bed. Whether the dreams were good or bad – they always featured Jaime. Even now, nearly a year after she had watched him ride away from her to his death in King’s Landing.
Brienne stretched and nibbled at the breakfast that had been left in her quarters as she brushed thoughts of Jaime Lannister aside and focused on her day. Not that it would be different than any other day.
A time of peace had thankfully settled in the kingdom, and now that life was back to somewhat normal after the wars, there was very little for Brienne to do. Not that she wanted someone to attack the king, but she thought her life as the commander of the kingsguard would require more than council meetings and paperwork.
She barely had time to spar.
Brienne wandered into her office and frowned at the stack of letters on her desk – it was raven day. While the task of reading and responding to letters from people throughout the kingdom could be tedious, the letters from the young girls who wanted to be knights just like her were a nice reminder as to why she was doing this in the first place. In fact, she had written to her father and Ser Goodwin to have them start a foster and squire program for young ladies in the kingdom who wanted to become knights.
Gilly and Podrick responded to many of her letters for her. Many of the Lord Commanders in the past hadn’t bothered to respond at all, but King Bran said that it was more important than ever for them to connect with the people. Brienne knew that Podrick selected the best letters for her to read and respond to – the ones that would put a smile on her face.
Which is why she was surprised when one of his selections this week made her weep. It was from a one-handed soldier living in Pentos. Willem Hill was his name, and he had lost his hand during a battle fighting on the Lannister’s side against Robb Stark in the War of Five Kings. His family wanted nothing to do with him after his injury, so he went to start a new life in the free cities.
Tales from the Great War and the Last War spread throughout the world, and he had heard about the fall of Jaime Lannister, and about what she had written for him in the Book of Brothers.
“There are other rumors, my good ser, about other, less pleasant things that Ser Jaime has done, but it meant a lot to me as a one-handed person that you chose to write of his good deeds. Because of our similar injuries, hearing about Jaime Lannister in the Battle of Winterfell gives me courage that maybe someday I can do things I never thought possible. Thank you for remembering him fondly, despite his other…choices.”
Brienne cried as she read the man’s letter again. She had forgiven Jaime for all of his choices in the end, and knowing that someone out there found inspiration for his honor and bravery was like a balm to her broken heart. She wished he could read this letter. Jaime had left her because he hated himself for all the things he had done for Cersei, and no amount of assurance from her that he was a good man had changed his mind.
See, Jaime, this man admired you. You weren’t so hateful after all. She stared at Widow’s Wail on her office wall as she thought it.
Brienne pulled out a piece of paper and began writing a reply to Willem, thanking him for his letter.
“Ser Jaime did many brave things while one-handed, I will tell you about one now, and if you would like to know more someday, I would be happy to write further. Probably one of the most courageous things he did, shortly after losing his sword hand, was jump into a bear pit between me and the snarling beast to save my life. Ser Jaime was many things, but craven was not one of them.”
Brienne smiled down at the letter. She liked writing about the good memories she had of Jaime.
She added to her letter, asking Willem a few things about his life in Pentos – what he did for a living now that his soldiering days were over. Brienne didn’t know why she was encouraging the man to write back. Maybe it was nice to have someone to talk to about Jaime. It seemed everyone around her liked to tiptoe around the subject. Even Tyrion, who grieved for his brother still.
And truth be told, the way Tyrion remembered his brother and the way Brienne remembered Jaime were two different things. The hand of the king knew Jaime the longest, but Brienne liked to think that she knew him the best.
Brienne signed the letter to Willem and put it in the pile of correspondence to be sent by raven later today. She wondered if the man would write her back, or if he was too busy in his life in Pentos to bother.
Gods, I’m lonely. Maybe I should write a letter to father and to Sansa too, just for some news.
Podrick was like family, and she enjoyed having him around, but she missed the days when it was just the two of them on the road. Or when it was her and Jaime on the road. Or when she had her mission to care for the Stark girls.
The king was pleasant enough, but not much company, and she did not enjoy spending much time with Tyrion or Bronn.
Lord Davos was friendly enough, but they were not close. And all the young men on the kingsguard admired her, but she didn’t feel a friendship with any of them.
Yes, she would write a letter to her father. And maybe if the king was amenable to it, she could make a visit home. She missed Tarth, and longed to see its sapphire waters again.
Brienne wiped a tear from her eye and forced herself to sit up straight and continue with her correspondence. She was a knight, and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. She would do her duty and not complain about the life she was living. So many had died during the wars, and had lost a whole lot more.
She had lost her love, but won the position she was in. She wondered if Jaime would be proud of her. He would be, but would also probably tease her about taking the oath.
“I still miss you every day,” she said to Widow’s Wail on the wall, before leaving the room for the next council meeting.
**
A few days later, Willem Hill re-read the letter Ser Brienne of Tarth sent him. It was probably his tenth time perusing the words, and had them about memorized by now.
When he sent the letter to the first female Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, he had never expected a response. He imagined there were plenty of admirers throughout the kingdom who wanted to heap praise upon her. And members of the king’s council seldom responded to correspondence from smallfolk, at least when he was in the same position.
Jaime Lannister was dead – he died the day the rubble after his attempt to ring the bells and surrender the city was met with dragon fire. When he comforted his sister through her own death. Jaime Lannister died when he heard his brother weeping over his body, although he could not move even a muscle to acknowledge Tyrion.
Jaime Lannister died when they threw his body into a cart with other bodies and that of his sister. Jaime Lannister stayed dead when he was finally able to move and rolled himself off that neglected cart and limped away from the Dragon Queen’s army camp. Willem Hill was born that day.
He hopped on a boat and sailed to Pentos. He didn’t know why the gods had chosen to keep his heart beating, but he wasn’t going to risk the lives of his friends and family by letting them know he was alive.
“The world is a better place without Jaime Lannister,” he told himself. Still, he dreamed every night of her sapphire eyes and sweet kisses. Of her wielding Oathkeeper and saving his life many times over.
“You can’t die. You need to live so you can take revenge,” Brienne had said to him once.
But who was he to take revenge against for his poor choices? Himself? The gods demanded he live, and his penance would be that he would do it in exile. He forced himself to bury himself in work, and try not to think of Westeros and those who resided in it. To not think of Brienne.
Still, he could not control his dreams and she came to him every night in them.
And then the stories started spreading of what happened in King’s Landing after his “death.”
Jon Snow had followed in his footsteps and killed the mad queen. Bran Stark was the new king, with Tyrion Lannister serving as his hand.
“Bran the Broken,” they called the new king. Jaime snorted. Guess he was a king maker after all.
In the pubs at night, he heard tales of the first female Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Of her bravery and honor and how all in the land respected her.
Jaime cried into his drink as a result of his pride in her, and the fact that he missed her so much. She deserved it. She deserved all the accolades. Her short relationship with Jaime Lannister was the only stain on her honor. He was never worthy of her.
And then one night, he heard about the book.
“I saw it myself. They were giving tours of the reconstructed keep and they let us see the Lord Commander’s tower. The Book of Brothers!”
Jaime’s ears perked up when he heard the words, hoping the man would mention catching a glimpse of Brienne.
“And then I read the latest entry and learned the truth about the Kingslayer.”
Jaime spat out his drink at that, but he quickly turned away when people looked curiously in his direction. After a moment, the man continued.
“He killed his king because the king was gonna kill everybody. He fought for the living at the battle of Winterfell. He tried to save the city by surrendering when the Dragon Queen came. He died protecting his queen.”
Jaime’s eyes filled with tears and he ran from the pub, unable to breathe.
She finished his pages in the book.
Brienne wrote about his good deeds, and had even painted his returning to Cersei in a positive light. He did not deserve her kind words.
He had never deserved her.
Jaime wallowed in his surprise and sorrow over everything for the next two days before deciding to write her a letter, as Willem. He may not be ever able to contact her as Jaime Lannister, but at least he could use this as a way to show his appreciation for what she had done.
He never expected her to right back.
Jaime traced her words on the letter with his finger. Brienne had touched this paper. She had thought fondly of him jumping in the bear pit and written about it to him, to Willem. He wondered if she gave that sort of half smile of hers, with her lips quirking up in the corners, as she remembered.
And to his surprise…she left an opening for him to write back.
He couldn’t dare to, could he? Could he write her, pretending to be Willem?
The part in him that thought his miserable life in Pentos was his penance told him no, that he should burn her letter and leave it at that. But the other part of him, that dreamed of her every night, told him that at least this way he could have a brief taste of contact with Brienne. A brief connection in this world.
It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough.
He let that side of him win, and pulled out a piece of paper.
Dear Wench , he wanted to start it.
My love , his hand ached to write.
I miss your astonishing eyes , his heart screamed.
But he steadied his hand and wrote: Dear Ser .