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She saw you in her dream tonight.
She felt your touch, light and gentle, greedy and fervent. Lion’s touch. It didn’t matter the lion had been wounded.
She felt you. Again. As if it was that very first time.
Yet, it wasn’t. A dream, a cruel hoax of one’s brain.
Nothing more. Nothing more, nothing more, - Brienne kept telling herself. Nothing more. Just memories, useless, worthless.
Yet, so vivid.
Jon Snow said there was nothing there, she heard. After death.
You couldn’t remember her, then. You couldn’t feel anything. You couldn’t exist anymore. These dreams… Just pointless. Just dreams.
Yet, so real.
What makes us human?
Memories, Samwell Tarly once said. As long as we have them, we live. We are humans.
So maybe you live? Here. In her memory. While she lives.
Here. In that book of deeds. While humanity lives.
Perhaps, you will live forever?
Brienne closes her eyes, trying to go back to sleep. Night rain gently touches the window in her (his?) chambers. She feels a brief light touch to her head before she falls asleep, but, perhaps, it’s just another dream.