Jaime and Tyrion reached the White Sword Tower without any sign of Brienne. Even so, Jaime's muscles tensed and his heart beat an uneven rhythm as they entered the common room without her knowledge or consent. Jaime had no desire to upset Brienne again. She had been through more than enough, and the last thing she needed was to find him and Tyrion skulking around the White Sword Tower.
Tyrion barreled straight into the room, heading for the large table at its center, but Jaime held back, standing just inside the doorway.
Tyrion rounded the table and stopped on the opposite side, lifting his head to look up at his brother. "Well, aren't you coming?"
"I don't like this," Jaime answered. "We have no right to be here. This is the dominion of the Kingsguard."
"We have every right to be here," Tyrion replied as he climbed up into the chair beside him. "After all, I am Hand of the King. I can go wherever I please in the Red Keep."
"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should."
Tyrion eyed Jaime pointedly. "Trust me, I do know the difference, but there's something very important you need to see. If the Lord Commander does find us here, I shall gladly take all the blame."
"Even if you take the blame, I'm the one who's likely to be punished. Brienne is too honorable to ever harm the Hand of her king. But me? I wouldn't be surprised if she punched me again."
The hint of a smile pulled at the corner of Tyrion's mouth. "Yes, well, that is a distinct possibility, isn't it?"
"Tyrion, I don't want to—"
"Hurt her, yes, I know. That's not why we're here. Now, stop arguing and close the door."
Jaime looked over his shoulder, peering down the corridor to make sure that they were alone. He dreaded the idea of hurting Brienne again, of invading her domain without her express permission, but it seemed he didn't have much choice. Tyrion had promised to stop interfering in their lives if Jaime just allowed him this one last transgression. And the sooner Jaime stepped into the room, the sooner they could get on with it.
With great reluctance, Jaime finally closed the door and walked to the table. He stopped on the side opposite Tyrion, regarding his brother with open suspicion. "All right," he said, "what is it you want me to see?"
"Bring me The Book of Brothers," Tyrion commanded as if he were the king and Jaime were his Hand.
Jaime raised a brow in question but didn't say a word. He looked around the room, spotting the large volume on a stand against the far wall. Despite its weight and unwieldy size, he quickly retrieved it, placing it on the table in front of Tyrion.
It had been a long time since Jaime had seen The Book of Brothers, a long time since he'd even thought about it. The last time he had seen it had been the day he'd stood in that very room with Joffrey, being mocked for the lack of heroic deeds in his own entry. Now, that seemed like a lifetime ago. At the time, Joffrey's words had stung, but Jaime had since realized that he didn't deserve a single line more. All he'd ever done was disappoint those he loved, and he didn't feel particularly heroic.
Tyrion began to flip the pages, and Jaime watched idly as the inky black letters flashed before his eyes. The book looked perfectly intact despite the fact that half the castle had burned down around it.
"I'm surprised it survived the fire," Jaime said absently. "I suppose the gods do have a sense of humor."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Tyrion asked as he continued turning the pages.
A bitter laugh escaped Jaime's throat as he looked up at Tyrion again. "Just that, if the book had been destroyed, my page would have been destroyed with it and my name would have faded into obscurity. Instead, the gods chose to spare it, forever securing my place in history as the Kingslayer."
Tyrion smiled to himself, and Jaime wanted to ask him what he found so amusing, but he didn't get the chance.
Tyrion turned one last page and said, "Ah, here it is."
Jaime's eyes drifted downward, settling on the open book. For a moment, he didn't know what he was seeing. He saw the Lannister lion on a field of red in the far-left corner. He saw his name beside it, Ser Jaime Lannister. But the rest of the page looked foreign to him. When last he'd seen the book, his page had barely been half full. It had contained a few short, uninspired lines detailing his history as a knight:
Squired for Barristan Selmy against the Kingswood Outlaws.
Knighted and named to the Kingsguard in his sixteenth year for valor in the field.
At the Sack of King's Landing, murdered his king, Aerys the second, at the foot of the Iron Throne.
Pardoned by King Robert Baratheon. Thereafter known as the Kingslayer.
And that was all.
But now, the page was full, and Jaime could see, without even reading it, that the text continued onto the reverse side of the parchment. He stared in wonderment at the page, trying to read the words but struggling to make sense of them.
"Would you like me to read you what it says?" Tyrion asked.
"What?" Jaime looked up in surprise, having completely forgotten that Tyrion was in the room.
"Do you want me to read it to you? It's quite inspiring, if you ask me. Makes me proud to call you my brother."
Jaime looked down at the book again, his eyes finally focusing on the letters. He didn't recognize the hand. He knew that only the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was supposed to write in The Book of Brothers, which meant it was very likely that Brienne had been the one to complete his entry.
Jaime reached out, his fingers trailing over the page, across the light, even letters. "Who wrote this?" he asked, his heart beating faster.
"The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, of course," Tyrion replied. "And I think she did quite an admirable job. Well, except for the part where she names me as Joffrey's murderer, but since that was the official finding of the court, I suppose I can forgive her for that."
Jaime focused intently on the page, reading the words but barely comprehending their meaning. Although he had struggled to read as a child, getting the letters reversed in his head, that wasn't the problem now. He wasn't having difficulty reading because he couldn't make sense of the letters, but because he couldn't believe that Brienne had done him such a kindness.
"Here," Tyrion said, turning the book around so that it was now facing Jaime. "This should make it easier."
The blood thrummed in Jaime's veins as he began to read, devouring word after word. Brienne of Tarth had recorded his deeds in The Book of Brothers as if he'd been some noble knight, worthy of great praise. There was admiration in her words—admiration and respect—both of which Jaime knew he didn't deserve.
Took Riverrun from the Tully rebels, without loss of life.
Lured the Unsullied into attacking Casterly Rock, sacrificing his childhood home in service to a greater strategy.
Outwitted the Targaryen forces to seize Highgarden.
Fought at the Battle of the Goldroad bravely, narrowly escaping death by dragonfire.
Jaime could scarcely believe his eyes. Brienne had had every right to leave his page unfinished, or better still, to brand him a traitor. But she hadn't. Instead, she'd written about him as if he were the bravest, most noble knight to ever serve the Seven Kingdoms.
Jaime's heart pounded against his ribs as he read on, wondering how Brienne had marked the rest of his life.
Pledged himself to the forces of men and rode north to join them at Winterfell, alone.
Faced the Army of the Dead and defended the castle against impossible odds until the defeat of the Night King.
Escaped imprisonment and rode south in an attempt to save the capital from destruction.
Tears pricked the backs of Jaime's eyes, and he struggled to keep them from falling. He didn't deserve a word of it, not a word. Brienne was a far better person than he would ever be, and he knew it. Although his reasons for leaving her had been nothing but altruistic, that didn't change the fact that he had hurt her deeply and that he didn't deserve her praise or admiration.
Jaime's eyes moved lower on the page. There was only one line left.
Died protecting his Queen.
Jaime froze, every muscle in his body suddenly going numb. He stared at the words, reading them over and over again.
Died protecting his Queen.
Died protecting his Queen.
He nearly had died protecting Cersei. It hadn't been his intention, of course. When he'd left Winterfell for King's Landing, he had meant to end Cersei's life. But as the rubble had begun to fall all around them, he'd been unable to stop himself from trying to protect her and their unborn child. Even then, he'd known it was a futile effort, but he'd done it anyway because he hadn't wanted his sister to die alone. Brienne had been far too generous in her recording of his life—and his death—and Jaime had never felt more ashamed.
When Jaime was finally able to move, he turned his head away from the book and stepped back from the table. For a moment, he couldn't even speak. He just stood there, staring at the floor, not saying a word.
It was Tyrion who finally broke the silence. "It's quite extraordinary, isn't it? I don't think I could have done a better job of it myself."
Jaime raised his eyes to Tyrion. "Why . . . why show me this?"
"Because you needed to know what Brienne thinks of you, how she feels about you, despite what happened six months ago."
Jaime shook his head, unwilling to accept Tyrion's reassurances. "That," he said, nodding toward the book, "has nothing to do with how she feels about me. Brienne of Tarth is the most honorable person I have ever known. She wrote those words because she is an honorable woman, because—"
"Because she still loves you."
Jaime's heart skipped a beat, and he stared at Tyrion without seeing him. Brienne had never confessed her love, not even when they had been deep in the throes of passion. But then, she'd never had to. Jaime had always felt it, even when they had been at odds. He'd always felt it because it had always been there, just like his love for her. But now, he couldn't bring himself to believe that she felt anything for him. Perhaps she had felt a certain kindness toward him when she'd thought he was dead, but that had surely changed since he'd returned to King's Landing and revealed that he was still very much alive.
"She doesn't love me," Jaime said, the words hollow in his throat. "Maybe . . . maybe she did once, but not anymore."
"How can you say that?" Tyrion argued. "You read what she wrote. She had no reason to portray you as a hero, and every reason to portray you as a villain. Brienne of Tarth could have allowed history to believe that you were nothing more than a worthless wretch, Cersei's lapdog till the very end, but she didn't because she loves you, and for no other reason."
"I am a worthless wretch."
Tyrion shook his head. "Why are you so determined to believe that? Why do you refuse to even consider the idea that you might still have a chance at happiness with Brienne?"
"Because I don't. Because I didn't kill Cersei when I had the chance. Because I left Brienne and didn't return to her as soon as the danger had passed."
"And why didn't you kill Cersei? Hmm? Tell me that."
"Because I thought we were going to die anyway, and I still loved her—like a sister—and I couldn't be the one to end her life or our child's life. Had circumstances been different—"
"You would have done what needed to be done."
"Yes, but—"
"And why didn't you return to Brienne when you had the chance?" Tyrion asked.
"Because I didn't want to hurt her any more than I already had."
"Then you need to tell her that."
"I have told her that. She doesn't care, and I can't say that I blame her."
"Have you told her all of it? Every last detail, every last reason why you did what you did?"
Jaime sighed heavily. "She won't listen, and frankly, I think it would be an insult to her honor to start throwing excuses at her now."
Tyrion laughed, the sound almost mocking. "You really don't have all that much experience with women, do you?"
Jaime's eyes narrowed on his brother. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"You can't keep treating Brienne like a fellow soldier. You have to treat her like a woman."
"I'm not treating her like a soldier."
"Yes, you are. You're worried about offending her honor, about wasting her time and getting in her way, when what you should really be worried about is making amends and wooing her back."
"I have no intention of wooing anyone," Jaime replied, his eyes falling to the book again. He was too far away now to read the words, but it didn't matter. Every last word Brienne had written was forever etched into his brain: Took Riverrun from the Tully rebels, without loss of life. Outwitted the Targaryen forces to seize Highgarden. Died protecting his Queen.
Jaime sounded so terribly brave on parchment, but at best, it was all an exaggeration, and at worst, a lie.
"I think it would be best if I stayed away from Brienne as much as possible," Jaime said. "You've already put her in an unenviable position, appointing me Master of War. I don't want to make things any worse for her."
Tyrion leaned forward and closed the book, instantly breaking Jaime's focus. Jaime looked up at Tyrion again, not at all surprised to find his brother watching him intently.
"Why do you think Brienne wrote what she wrote?" Tyrion asked.
"Because she is everything good and honorable and true."
"Then why are you calling her a liar?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"If you honestly believe that Brienne is good and honorable and true, then how can you also accuse her of writing lies about you in this book?" Tyrion patted the cover for good measure.
"I didn't say they were lies. I just think they're half-truths."
"Oh, is that what you're calling them now?" Tyrion asked as he sat back in his chair, his eyebrows raised. "She tells half-truths, so she must only be half a liar."
The blood stirred in Jaime's veins, and he knew he was in serious danger of losing his temper. He couldn't allow Tyrion to slight Brienne's honor, not even in jest. "She's not a liar," Jaime said, his voice tight. "Not at all."
"Then, if that is indeed the case, it means that every word she wrote about you in The Book of Brothers is true. And that means, at the very least, that she thinks you are an honorable man. And if Brienne of Tarth thinks you are an honorable man, then it must be true."
Jaime shook his head, his eyes never leaving Tyrion's. "No, it means that, when she thought I was dead, she was able to look upon my memory with mercy and kindness, but now that she knows I am alive, all that has changed. She may have believed those words when she transcribed them in that book, but she does not believe them now. Now, she doesn't see any honor in me, and all she wants is me gone from her life."
"If you believe that, then you're an even bigger fool than I thought."
"I'm no fool. I know what Brienne wants. She's already told me, and nothing in that book changes anything."
Tyrion sighed heavily, pulling his eyes away from Jaime's. Jaime knew Tyrion was frustrated with him. Tyrion had expected him to go running to Brienne the instant he had seen what she'd written in The Book of Brothers, but that wasn't going to happen. It couldn't happen, for far too many reasons.
"Remember," Jaime said, drawing Tyrion's attention back to him, "you gave me your word that you were done meddling. I don't want to hear another word on the matter, not another word."
"But—"
"No, that's an end to it. From now on, you stop meddling and let me and Brienne live our lives. Separately. Do you understand?"
"Oh, I understand," Tyrion said, "I stop interfering or risk bodily harm."
"You stop interfering, or I tell the Queen in the North exactly how you feel about her."
The color drained from Tyrion's face, and Jaime felt a hint of satisfaction. He quickly turned and left the room, knowing better than to ever let his brother have the last word.