Chapter Text
Had she beaten it, a white walker? the thought echoed in Brienne's mind as the world tilted and went fuzzy. She felt cold, thread-bare and exhausted.
“Brienne.” Jaime's voice held such desperation it tugged Brienne's eyes to him. He rushed forward and slid across the snow to land beside her.
I just need some rest, good ser, she wanted to say, but no words left her shivering lips.
“Don't you die on me, you stubborn wench. Don't you dare.” Jaime cradled her head and his touch burned like fire. “Get a maester,” Jaime lifted his head to yell at the crowd that loomed above.
“Don't you dare die on me, Brienne, because none of it matters without you,” Jaime seemed to whisper as the world finally faded to black.
#
Brienne woke as dawn light flickered through the paned window. Dawn, how long had it been since she had seen dawn? Ser Jaime sat in the only chair in her small room. His regal profile looked out the window. Sunlight glinted off the gray at his temples and speckled throughout his beard. A god, she thought.
“Jaime.” Her soft voice creaked.
Jaime turned to her. “Gods be good.” He shifted the chair closer and his hand reached out to encase hers laid upon a fur blanket.
“Did I defeat him?”
“Who?” Jaime furrowed his brow.
“The white walker,” Brienne somehow managed through her rough throat, though the sound came out more a croak than words.
“Don't speak.” Jaime shook his head and sighed. “Stupid, stubborn woman,” he muttered. “Of course you defeated the bloody white walker. You're one of the best swordsman in the realm, wielding one of the best swords. Not that you should have risked your life for such.” He frowned.
Brienne blinked. What better death of a warrior than in fighting an evil that threatened the realm. She took a tiny sip of the water and glanced out the window. How many long months had they fought with so little pause? Yet, she heard no battle now, no shouts or war machines.
Jaime looked over his shoulder. “The army of the dead has pulled back for now, and so the days have returned. Only a reprieve.” They would be back in more force, he left unspoken.
“But, a victory.” Her voice still felt meek and her body weak. Still, she had played a part in that victory, in the needed reprieve.
Jaime leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “At what cost? You almost died, Brienne.”
She nodded. Something in his concerned look made her breath catch.
He pinched together his lips, shook his head again. “Fucking honorable or not, dead is dead.”
“Who would have carried as such?” Her words a whisper. Her father far away might. Here they would morn the lost of her swordsmanship, but what else? In the moment, she had only seen an enemy she could help destroy and moved to do so. In truth, she had not thought of honor. Although, she also had not thought of her death.
“Who?” Jaime shoved back his chair to stand. He flayed, a lion among wolves, an angry sneer upon his face. Brienne found herself pulling back. “None of it fucking matters, not even winning, without you. Don't you know that you large, slow woman?” He stalked closer. “I love you. I'm yours, my heart and soul and sword.” He shook his head, his sneer fading to sadness. Brienne's breath caught in her chest.
“You're all I have left, Brienne.” Jaime fell to his knees beside the bed. “My everything.” His hand again held hers, his head bowed above their joined hands.
Brienne could feel his tears upon her hand. She paused, her heart hammering. How could she have gotten it all so wrong? Why had he never said anything before this moment?
“Love?” she finally managed to ask.
“Of course.” Jaime furrowed his brow. “As you love me.”
As she...? Jaime Lannister loved her and he knew that she loved him. Brienne frowned, blinked, tightened her jaw to keep her chin from wobbling. “Since when?”
Jaime's gaze lifted up to her face, his body still knelt beside her. “Since Harrenhal, mayhaps.” He shrugged. “Although I did not know until Riverrun, did not fully know about your feelings until Winterfell.”
Harrenhall? He had loved her since then? She almost blushed at the memory of them together in the bath, at the memory of his naked flesh against her own. She herself had first realized she loved Jaime when Queen Cersei had stated such to her at King Joffery's wedding.
“I'm an old crippled warrior without a family or even keep.” He frowned. “And you are a lady, an heir.”
Brienne shook her head. This gorgeous godlike man before her should be Lord Lannister, he should be Lord Commander of the largest army in the realm. “None of that matters now.” For it did not. What did it matter she might be heir to Tarth if they might not live to see any future.
“And love...” He rose and shifted himself backwards to sit again in his chair. “I know little of the good in love.”
Brienne knew a little about his relationship with Cersei, about his lover's power over him, about his un-returned loyalty, about the almost abuse. “I am not her.” Somehow her voice was steady.
Jaime puffed a sigh. “You, us, are nothing like such, true.” He tilted his head. “You know me, Brienne, you complete me. How is it my own twin never did so as you can?”
Brienne did not have an answer to such, did not truly want to think about who Jaime had thrown his life away for.
“And what do we do now?” Brienne asked. Jaime Lannister loved her, still echoed through her head.
“I don't mean to dishonor you without vows, if such is the worry.” The lust in his eyes at his words and thoughts of such took her breathe and rose a bright blush to her cheeks. In dark, lonely nights, such thoughts had certainly come to her as well.
“It is not,” she finally squeaked out.
“It need change nothing,” Jaime said. “Just promise me, Brienne, you will not die. That alone will be enough.”
Brienne frowned. Were they then instead to go back to how they had been? The thought of the loneliness sunk a pit in her stomach. How much worse it would be now that she knew they shared feelings? Yet, did she mean to wed this man? She had long given up on ever wedding, long told herself she did not need such, ever. She shook her head. She would not go back to what they had been, even if what they might be scared her worst than the white walker she had faced.
Brienne leaned forward, wincing at the pain. She reached out, grabbed hold of Jaime's thick woolen tunic and pulled him towards her. Jaime fumbled with his gold hand to not fall upon her. And then they were face to face, his breath warm upon her cheeks, her hand fisted in his tunic shaking.
She took a trembling breath and closed the distance between them such that her lips touched his. In truth she had never kissed or been kissed before. His lips were chapped and rough. Hers moved awkwardly over them. While pleasant, it was not the breathtaking action she had expected.
Jaime drew back, tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow. Brienne blushed and had no words to explain her actions. Jaime drew closer and kissed her again. His lips moved with more expertise, sure and soft upon hers. His tongue stroked her lips, drawing a sigh from her, and slipped within her mouth. Her breath caught in her chest and desires rose in her gut. She knew she was beet red when they finally pulled apart.
“Gods woman.” Jaime gave a light chuckle.
“If I have been too forward...”
#
Jaime swallowed down the laugh that wanted to burst from his lips. Too forward? Who would think such of Brienne of Tarth? He managed to shake his head. “No.” He certainly couldn't keep the admiration for this woman from his eyes. Always, still, surprising him.
Her eyes were wild, her face deeply blushed, yet she looked gorgeous. Jaime swallowed. It had been one thing when he knew she might have feelings, another now that he knew she wanted him. Might she actually have him?
Jaime leaned back, still on the bed. What did they do now?
Brienne frowned and shook her head. “I could promise you not to die, Jaime, yet how can any of us really keep such a promise.” Which might be true, although Jaime knew it was more a testament to Brienne's courage in battle that she would surely risk her life again if need be.
“Mayhaps.” Jaime crossed his arms. Brienne could not step away from this war. Even if Jaime could, he owed the realm his aid, such as it was, in its defense. “So if tomorrow may not come, what does any of the rest of it matter?” Yet, it mattered to him, and he would not take her maidenhead without vows, vows he was not worthy of giving for many reasons. He had spoken the truth, with no house and no keep, old, crippled, he was not worthy of marrying the heir to Tarth.
“You should be Lord Lannister of Casterly Rock.” She lifted her chin, regal and dignified.
Casterly Rock. Jaime scoffed. He had given up such long ago, yet it had pained him to offer it in his war play to win the Reach. “I am not, and doubtful I will ever be.” Tyrion had not taken the title either, although he could have. Yet, even if Jaime survived this war, he doubted he would ever sit the lordship his father had never given up on him having. Jaime shook his head.
“If Queen Daenarys gets her way she will break the wheel, and what will it matter who is a lord or lady.”
Jaime kept the frown off his face at the mention of the dragon queen. He did not trust her as the madness he knew well from her father peeked through more and more.
“I would marry you, Jaime,” Brienne whispered and blush rising again on her cheeks.
It took his breath, that she would return his devotion. Still, he shook his head. “Marriage? What would your father think of your choice?” It was more that he was not a lord. Who would want their daughter to wed the Kingslayer?
“He long gave up such say.” Brienne shook her head and pinched together her lips.
“You would be a wife, and a mother?” To be a lady was something Jaime knew Brienne had only recently gotten used to. Surely she knew what marriage would mean, even if Jaime would treat her as an equal.
“Well, a wife, at the least.” Brienne frowned. Worry began to fill her eyes.
Jaime rose to sit beside her on the bed. “Motherhood usually follows wedding vows, as least as I mean to give them to you.” A light smirk graced his lips Her checks reddened and her beautiful blue eyes dipped to study her long fingered hands. The thought of putting his children in her warmed him. How he would love to be a parent with her.
He wrapped his remaining hand around hers. “We take it as it comes,” he said, voice soft. Tomorrow might not come, marriage may or may not happen. Brienne was correct, there may be little future for either or them, for any of them.
Brienne rose her eyes, wide and sincere, back to his face. She nodded slowly. Jaime could not resist gracing her lips with one small kiss. Was it bad of him to hope there would be many more to whatever future they had?