A/N: Sorry I know I usually post my Walking Dead fics and I know I owe you guys an update but I needed to post a Game of Thrones Cope Fic after the sad ending that was my ship Braime. I may be able to possibly move on if something like this wouldve happened on the last episode. Nah who am I kidding? LOL. I dont think I will ever be over it.

As she closes the book, she takes a deep breath. A minute is all she needs. Sixty seconds is what she allows herself to push past the emotions that threaten to bubble over.

Anger. Sadness. Resentment.

Love.

Despite his decision to leave, she still loves him. She will always love him. And she's pretty certain she will never love like this again.

The chair squeaks when she stands, almost distracting her errant thoughts. She thinks back to those nights they shared after the battle. Thirty-six nights to be exact. Thirty-six nights that he laid beside her, stroking her hair so gently that it lulled her to sleep. Thirty-six nights they spent talking, laughing, and still bantering like they did before they changed the trajectory of their relationship.

And even on the few nights they didn't make love, they never laid far apart. By habit, she would roll over and face away from him and fall asleep, not used to sharing a bed with another. But by the 3rd night, she always fell asleep in his arms and wondered how she went so long without his touch. Now she had to get used to it all over again. If there was one good thing about her move from Winterfell it was no longer having to live in the room they shared. Had he been up those nights after she fell asleep? Regretting her? Were there signs she missed? Was she just not enough? Maybe he didn't he love her how she loved him after all.

And that's when the traitorous tear slides down her cheek. Dammit. She hates that she thinks about this more than she should. Thankfully, she's able to tuck it away during the day when she has to handle business. Her duty to protect others has always been more of a priority than her personal wants and needs. But when she lays down at night, she can't escape the memory of his laugh. The stubble on his chin when it tickled her thighs. His soft hair that she ran her fingers through. How he would whisper sweet words into her ear when she was about to come. And the feel of his rapid heartbeat in rhythm with hers when he collapsed on her chest after reaching his peak.

Sometimes he would pull out, others he would hold her close whispering how good she felt as he released. She was nervous the first time it happened. But now she feels almost silly that she started to dream of what it could be like. A little boy or girl with his golden hair and her blue eyes that could wield a sword better than anyone. And their family living happily ever after on Tarth.

Maybe she was so blinded by loving him that she missed the obvious signs. That he was conflicted. That his heart wasn't in it.

The door creaks open and she startles.

"Ser Brienne." Tyrion walks in cautiously, peers down at the book and then at her.

She quickly wipes the tear from her face and pivots away from him. His prying eyes always unnerved her. Like he always knew more than he let on. "Tyrion. The meeting doesn't start until a bit later I thought."

"It does. I came to go over some plans but I see—"

His focus is on the book and she wants to break the silence but can't form the words. Since Jaime's death, they co-exist with a weird tension. He knows about her and Jaime. Others may suspect, but he knows for sure. They've never discussed it but it's always there.

"You know. He hadn't been with anyone else."

The statement is so out of the blue she's confused. "What?"

"My brother. Other than Cersei, he was never with anyone else. Never gave himself to anyone else. But you."

The words start the ache in her heart all over again and she swallows hard. "We should go." And she closes her eyes, disappointed with the emotion that crept into her voice.

"He loved you."

She gasps. As if someone just punched her in the gut. But Tyrion doesn't stop.

"I would never be able to explain the ridiculous hold my sister had over him. I know that above everything he was loyal to his family. You know it too. But he and I talked about you."

She shoots him a glance that has him hold his hands up in surrender.

"No no. Not like that. Well, I guess sort of like that. I did want details but he wouldn't give them to me."

Despite herself, the corner of her lip lifts ever so slightly.

"I know that he wanted to stay. He was happy."

" He made his choice." She cuts him off.

"He did," Tyrion agrees. "I don't think that—no I know there's nothing anyone could do to make him see who he really was. I know he's done some good. I'd like to think I'm proof of that. But he could never see past the bad that he's done. For her."

And the tears fall. She wants to wipe them away but she hopes that because she's turned away maybe he doesn't see them. "He told you that?"

"He didn't have to. Deep down, I don't think he thought he was capable of love. But he was. He loved you and he loved me."

The choke in Tyrion's voice is what causes her to face him. They look at each other and for the first time, they truly see the other. Two people who loved Jaime Lannister and who knew first hand just how good he was.

"Thank you for finishing his story," he says looking at the book. "I just wish it had a different ending.

She nods. "Me too. And I'm sorry, for your loss."

Tyrion stares at her for a beat longer, looks at the sword on her hip and smiles. "Thank you."

As he exits, her fingertips play along Oathkeeper's golden edges and she remembers his words.

"It's yours. It will always be yours."

At the time, she thought he was talking about the sword. Now she realizes, he may have been talking about something else.