Winterfell, The North, Westeros - Sometime Later
After being forgiven and not executed, for now, Jaime and Trystan had their swords returned while their guards could now rest assured that they had not failed their duty.
After Jaime was allowed to fight with them, the whole meeting ended and everyone moved out of the room. He was from the last ones to do so, for he wished to speak to one person in particular; one that he had not seen in a long time.
This is how he found himself approaching Brienne, as she stood on some of the highest walls of the castle. She was looking ahead at the frozen tundra, the same direction from where the army of the undead would come.
His steps against the stone and wooden structures made noise, alerting her of his incoming presence.
"Ser Jaime," she greeted him, turning her body sideways in order to face him properly.
Jaime offered a small smile as he could now stand in front of her, keeping at least two feet of respectful distance between them. "Lady Brienne. It is a pleasure to see you after so long," he said, his words rather genuine and not what one would expect from the famous Kingslayer.
"It has been long, indeed. I truly wish it had been under different circumstances," she confessed.
He nodded his head, showing his agreement. "On the other hand, I see you found both Stark girls."
"I did, although Lady Arya was a tough case. I first found her with the Hound but she refused to come. I found Lady Sansa and eventually Lady Arya found us," she explained, resting her hand on the sword he had given her. "Something that would not have been possible, without your assistance."
His small smile remained, having missed hearing her voice but also hearing that his actions did something good; for once.
"I am glad to hear that. Lady Catelyn can now rest in peace that her daughters are safe and my job is done," he said, not once looking away from her. He let silence exist between them for a small moment, before clearing his throat. "I...I wanted to thank you, for defending me back there. You did not have to."
"I only spoke of what was right. You did save my life and my dignity from those men and the fact that you came here first, to face the Targaryen girl; speaks more than enough about your current character."
"Well, this current character was helped shaped by someone speaking constantly of honour and oaths," he said and his smile turned into a smirk of pride upon seeing her cracking a smile of amusement.
The two of them looked at one another in silence, like two long-lost friends and perhaps even more. Being around one another, after all they had been through, it was impossible for them to feel awkward or odd.
There was this feeling of familiarity when they were in the presence of one another, and an innate feeling that they could truly be themselves; without worrying of others judging them.
Eventually, their attention was caught by something a few levels below them.
One would have to be blind to miss the sight of Sansa walking side by side with Trystan, a natural smile on their lips and the most innocent of glances sent to one another.
Brienne focused on them, passively to ensure Sansa was alright but also out of small curiosity. "Your brother," she started, breaking the silence. "I never had the chance to properly meet him but he seems like a good man. He followed you all the way here and rushed to defend you."
Jaime noticed where she was looking and as his attention focused on the pair, he silently noticed how easily the two of them interacted. Of course, the Lion was neither stupid nor naive and he had been experienced enough to see more than others.
He heard her talking about his brother and a small smile formed on his lips, his eyes softening and almost glowing with pride. "Trystan...he is perhaps the gentlest soul you will meet. His heart is always in the right place and to family," he admitted, a sense of pride warming beneath his ribcage. "Mother raised him well and sheltered him from our Father's true influence."
She glanced his way, always curious about his family. He never spoke much about them and Brienne had only met them for small amounts of time, and under different circumstances. The one she had talked the most time with was the Dragoness but even then the exchange was not one of gossip and sweet words.
"She did a fine job raising both of you," she commented. This made him blink slowly and look at her with a small surprise. She offered him a small weak smile and he returned it, although it did not last for long as she brought up a different; darker topic. "What your brother said, about Lord Tywin...would he really turn his back on us, if you were to be harmed?"
Jaime let out a heavy sigh, taking a moment longer to answer her. "I wouldn't be surprised if he did," he confessed, now being his turn to surprise her. "Father is not some naturally born kind man or one that does things out of the good of his own heart," he scoffed faintly at his words, never able to imagine his Father to truly do that. "He values family...no, legacy and the family name; above all. He would not have joined in this war if it was not certain, that we would win." He looked at his fake arm. "Do you remember Vargo?"
Brienne glanced at his fake arm and nodded her head, the name being one she was not going to forget anytime soon. "I do. That foul man that cut off your hand."
The Lion tried not to shiver at the memory and he swore he felt that sharp stinging pain coming from his hand, like the day it was cut off. He focused on the present and on her, to keep his composure.
"My father found him. He imprisoned him and had his most ruthless man cut pieces of his flesh every day, only to feed them to him and his men. He was kept alive for more than a week before he perished."
Her face paled, her eyes opening wider and even her lips parted; shock passed through her body while her mind tried to ignore that horrific image from forming. The torture sounded so cruel, so menacing and she was not sure anyone truly deserved it; even someone like Vargo.
He studied her for a moment, not surprised by his reaction. She was not used to brutal manners or petty acts of revenge but he was. After all, the Rains of Castamere were almost a nursing lullaby for him as were the Fires of Duskendale.
"After doing this to Vargo...I do not think there is any more reason for us to question what he would do if I were to be executed or harmed," he concluded and she nodded her head in agreement.
"I see...I am glad then, that you were forgiven; even for now. I do, though, now dread for when Lord Tywin will arrive with the rest of the army," she confessed to him.
He offered her a small smile. "I do too but perhaps this incoming threat that we are soon to face..." he looked at the other side of the castle, green meadow eyes locked on the Northern Horizon. "...might be the one thing to truly help unite us."
She took a step closer to him, her attention going to the same horizon. "I hope so. As I do hope we will live to see the sun rising after the big battle."
He did not comment anything on that, for he prayed and hoped the same; although not as strongly. He had been to war, he had lost friends and close comrades and even family. He knew the high risks involved when one would march against an enemy, risks that skyrocketed when one would remember they were to face an undead army of frozen skeletons.
Meanwhile...
While everyone was slowly leaving the room, Trystan connected his golden-flecked green eyes with Sansa and somehow both seemed to know what the other wanted. Despite the passive gazes they got, especially from her siblings; they were eventually left alone.
He headed for the door but waited for her to approach him, the need to talk becoming far too great for both sides.
Since they could not stand still, they chose to walk. It was similar to their walk in the Gardens of the Red Keep, although there was no bright greenery, no beautiful roses or the view of the sea for them to enjoy.
They were surrounded by black and dark castle walls, the cold looks of the Northerners, while the sky above them was a depressing grey; letting endless snowflakes fall and the strong cold wind blow against their faces.
Unlike many, he did not feel the low temperatures that strongly; something he had taken notice of during their trip to Winterfell the first but also the second time.
"Lady Sansa..." he started, after realizing he had to be the one to start. "I wanted to thank you, for trusting me and Lady Brienne...and for allowing my brother to live, let alone fight for the living."
She kept her face neutral and even slightly cold, something she had long practised during her time spent in the Vale. She had learnt to be the strong Lady of Winterfell, the one that would have to protect her family against the invader with her dragons and the one that gathered the army of the North to help fight for her brother.
Yet, as she heard his voice and stole glances his way; her tough facade started to slowly disappear. Her grey-blue eyes slowly became softer, her lips not so harshly pressed to form a frown.
"I trusted both of you, Ser Trystan, which is why I agreed. I also know that it is important to reduce any conflicts for now, if we wish for all those houses to work together and fight the upcoming enemy."
He nodded his head. "Of course. A very wise decision and one I am glad you were the first to agree," he said and then mentally cursed himself at how bad he was at talking to her. He looked forward and took a deep breath as if that would help the situation. "I..." he cleared his throat. "I wanted to say that I am relieved to see you here, alive and well."
His previous words had not truly helped with her new mood and personality but as she noticed his faint struggles, how his hands were behind his back to hide his fidgeting and then hearing his caring words...she could not help but feel the frown slowly disappearing from her face.
"I am also relieved to see you well and on the same side once again," she confessed, glancing down momentarily as they kept walking.
His lips twitched, trying to force him into gracing her with a smile. "I am...more than well now that I see you are too...After your disappearance at the wedding, I..." he stopped himself from talking for a moment as two Stark soldiers passed them. "I did wonder of your whereabouts and your well-being. There was no word of you for quite some time."
Sansa's mind went back to the Purple Wedding.
She remembered the panic, the shouts and cries of Cersei and how Dontos was pulling her hand; urging her to leave now. She had hesitated, unsure if that was really her chance but also not wishing to leave Trystan like that. In the end, she had to if she truly wanted to be free from her cage.
She turned her head faintly, letting her eyes fall on the handsome profile of his face; memorizing the unique exotic characteristics that he had taken from his mother and his Valyrian heritage.
Her lips moved before her mind could truly stop them. "I am sorry...for worrying you...and not telling you anything," she said, her genuine words earning his attention. "It was not that I did not trust you but...it all happened so fast that day—"
For the first time since she had met him, he interrupted her; something that was not unlike him.
"You have nothing to apologize for, my lady," he said, his head turned but also bent forward to look at her better. "There was no reason for you to tell me anything. My family had harmed you and kept you a prisoner; hiding it behind a fancy title...I do not blame you for chasing your freedom. I am just glad that your new freedom kept you safe until now."
All that time he had spent in the past year, thinking about her and why she left...it was his thoughts and his thoughts alone. He was curious, he had his questions but he would never blame her for what she did.
His words were true and honest. He was no fool; he knew that his family had harmed her and he would have helped her escape; if somehow he could have ensured she would remain safe and hidden.
Sansa looked at him with surprise, her lips parted and her eyes open a little wider; making their unique shade shine and stand out against her pale skin and the reddish-brown hue of her faint gentle curls.
She had not expected his words, for she truly thought she had hurt him by leaving so suddenly. Yet, here he was, proving her wrong and also reminding her just how kind-hearted he was. A true knight, straight out from the childhood stories, she thought and eventually, her lips formed a smile.
"Thank you for understanding," she said, feeling the faintest of blood rushing to her cheeks when he offered her one of his most charming smiles.
She had missed his presence and the sight of him, having been around a few Vale men, who guarded her and Petyr. None were like Trystan and she doubted anyone could truly compare to him and his gentle side.
He was so different from all the Lions, so different from almost all the men she had met in her life. She always enjoyed his presence and found herself to be a little less awkward during the time she spent with him.
A part of her even wished they had met under better circumstances, not at the brink of war against a supernatural threat.
"I did look back," she finally confessed, breaking the silence between them and once again earning his focus; since before he had directed it forward. "At the wedding, before my escape...I did look at you...hoping you would turn and see me, to know I would be safe."
It was his turn for his lips to part and take a moment longer to answer, as he processed her small confession. A part of him now felt stupid at how he did not sense her gaze, at how he did not look around to check on her sooner and see her leaving to safety.
"I apologize...I didn't know and my attention—"
Now it was her turn to interrupt him.
"No need, Ser Trystan," she said with a small smile. "Your nephew was dying; it was natural to have your focus on him. It was a rather...shocking thing, either way."
His lips pressed into a thin line as he remembered that part. He had learnt to despise Joffrey for what he did to Sansa but he never truly hated him, as he could never truly hate Cersei, Tyrion or his Father.
In the end, they were his family and they shared the same blood. He could never go as far as to cut them off his life or kill them. That was not who he was and he prayed to the Seven that someone would kill him if he ever turned out to become such a man.
"You were always very understanding," he commented, making her smile grow just a tad more.
"I could say the same about you. It would have been hard to survive all that time if you had not been present."
He came to a halt and she stopped a few feet in front of him. As she turned to face him, with small confusion about his sudden stop; she could not help but chuckle at his next move.
He pulled his one hand forward and to the side and then offered a small knightly bow to her. "You honour me, my lady," he said, his smile growing and pride following suit; almost glowing in his golden-flecked eyes at the sign of her chuckling.
She seemed too strict, cold and even sad all this time. She was similar to King's Landing but there was this small spark of hope and joy in her eyes, at least before the Red Wedding. Now, it seemed to have fully been lost from her; until he managed to amuse her.
This was his personal achievement and he felt both pride for succeeding but also relief, seeing that she was not fully lost in the coldness that had protected her the past year; if not more.
Then, he offered his elbow like a true gentleman for the two of them to continue their walk. She gladly accepted it and as she remembered that he was a good student of history, she talked to him about the castle and even gave him a small tour inside the majestic and dark building that stood out against the bare and snow-covered lands around it.