What Was Left

Chapter 15

Jaime took the passageways of the Red Keep at full sprint, a single figure with a singular purpose. Anyone who might have viewed him as he darted across the vast courtyard would have thought him mad. It was true, he very nearly was out of his mind. His love for Brienne had caused a crazed urgency within him. He was desperate to reach her. After Tyrion had challenged him to finally declare his explanation to Brienne once and for all, Jaime had left his brother cheering him on by the side of a worn footpath and had race back to the fortress that held his lady love.

Simply traversing the distance between himself and the Lord Commander's chambers had been the extent of Jaime's plan. He knew not what he would say once he was at last in Brienne's presence. He cared not if he seemed a lunatic, or absurd. It did not trouble Jaime if he descended into blithering foolishness when he saw her. Everything he had to say to Brienne, and the determination that this time he would not be stopped were the only things of which he was aware. With no memory of his trail, he stood before her door and pounded on the thick oak, shouting her name.

"Brienne!" Jaime's shriek echoed off the walls of the corridor. "Brienne!" He repeated at the top of his lungs. He felt as though he could beat his way through the barricade that kept them apart. "Brienne!" He howled even louder.

It seemed an eternity before the panel moved. "Brie..." Jaime began as the force of his hammering strike propelled him through the threshold of Brienne's quarters, nearly knocking her down as he entered uninvited.

"Jaime!" Brienne cried out in shock, as his body pressed against hers, both attempting to remain standing. "What in the name of the Gods are you doing?" She questioned, her tone loud and shocked, her eyes wide and confused.

"I must to speak with you." Jaime declared breathlessly. He did not move from the unintentional embrace in which he had landed.

"Now?" She asked, annoyed. "It's the middle of night." She reminded him angrily. "You nearly woke Galladon. It took me forever to get him down." She told him, disturbed by his intrusion.

"Forgive me." Jaime said, his urgent expression unchanging. In the back of his mind, just beyond his current insistence, for a moment, Jaime wondered if perhaps the difficulty Brienne had experienced in getting their son to sleep was because the babe had spent the day missing him. He did not know that Brienne had speculated the same as their son fussed in her arms when she tried to appease him.

"There is so much I need to tell you." Jaime continued, edging even closer to Brienne, his face only a hair's breadth from hers.

"I am sure it can wait until the morning." Brienne huffed, and tried to squirmed away from his grasp.

Jaime did not move, but only held tighter to Brienne. "I've waited long enough." He said forcefully.

Brienne stopped writhing and pulled back from him, studying Jaime judgementally. She smelled the remnants of the spilled wine with which Bronn had accidentally soaked Jaime's garment while they had talked in the tavern. "You're drunk." She asserted, the corners of her mouth turning down in disgust.

With a wistful sigh, Jaime looked deep into Brienne's eyes. "I have never been more sober in my life." He professed earnestly.

She reacted with a sarcastic laugh. "I can smell it on you." She scoffed.

Jaime shook his head vigorously, denying her claim. "No. Bronn spilled wine on me as we sat in the tavern earlier." He recounted. 

"Bronn?" Brienne rolled her eyes. "So, after an evening of carousing, you think it appropriate to come pounding on my door in your stupor?" She glared at Jaime. "Just what is it you think you will get here?" Her anger was equaled only by the disappointment and hurt of what she assumed he thought of her. "I am not the whore you left at Winterfell." Brienne faced him, conviction and determination burning hot in her eyes. She would never be used and thrown away again.