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“A bear there was, a bear, a bear!”
Brienne gritted her teeth, feeding the fire another stick. That thrice-damned song filled her with annoyance, and how could it not? Every time she heard that song, she could hear the roaring of the bear and Locke’s cruel voice singing along, a crowd of men just waiting for her to be maimed savagely. Her hand went to the scar on her shoulder, her fingers tracing the raised skin absent-mindedly. Qyburn, much as she distrusted him, had given her a wonderful salve. Her wounds had quickly became scars, and had went from hurting every time she moved to merely itching.
“Brienne?” A voice cut through her thoughts, and she turned around quickly, her hand going to grab a rock before she let it drop, finally recognizing the voice that said her name.
“Ser Jaime.” She responded, looking up at him warily. His hair was no longer golden, now a darker brown, likely due to the grime of his travels. His frame was skinnier and his arm was still in a sling, but his eyes were still a sharp green. A Lion of Lannister indeed.
“Come now, formality after everything we’ve been through?” He asked her, scoffing as he sat across from her, the fire simmering between them. The heat of it burned across her face, licking through her entire body. His sharp eyes meeting hers.
“Jaime, then.” She relented, and he gave her a satisfied smile in response, fumbling with a flask of water before handing it to her. She grabbed it and took a few sips before giving it back, watching as he drank and licked his lips afterwards.
“Oh, I’m a maid, and I’m pure and fair!
I’ll never dance with a hairy bear!”
Brienne glared into the fire, her jaw tensing as the sound of Bolton’s men singing reached her ears. Rancorous laughter followed each verse, and she had a suspicion that their song choice was not a coincidence. She looked up from the fire only to see the green of Jaime’s eyes, steadily watching her with an inscrutable expression on his face.
After a moment of silence where they stared at each other, he finally spoke. “It is only a song, my lady.” She bristled for a moment, but then she realized that his tone was not mocking or cruel. He wasn’t having a jape at her expense. He was trying to help her with the bad memories they now shared.
She didn’t respond immediately, instead watching the flames from the fire flicker from a bright orange to a simmering red, the embers turning from yellow to grey in the darkness of night. The crackling of the wood burning drowned out by the singing of Steelshanks and his men. She gave a silent thanks to the Seven that she was camped far enough that they couldn’t seen her bright red face. She could feel the heat on her cheeks, unsure whether it was from anger, embarrassment or the heat of the fire.
“It is not the song itself…” She finally replied, pushing a lock of blond hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. She raised her eyes to meet his, and felt the heat of the fire all the more. He waited patiently for her to explain herself, and she struggled to find the words for it.
“The only thing I can think of when I hear it now is Locke and his men singing it to me. Even now, I feel as if I can hear their voices, mocking me as we speak.” And it was true, she could hear the malicious laughter, the jeering of the crowd, she could feel their stares on her, waiting for her death. She shook herself out of those memories and gestured for Jaime to give her the flask again. He did, and she took another sip from it, noticing his eyes were pensive as he stared at her.
She felt uncomfortable in her skin with those bright, watchful eyes on her, although she couldn’t rationalize why she felt such a way. They are only eyes.
Those same eyes suddenly lit up and he gave her a smirk, mischief clearly in them. “Ah, then you will simply have to replace those memories to something better. Then they will not wound you as much! And luckily for you, my lady, my singing voice will be all you hear when you next come across this song.” He declared, grinning at her. Japing, obviously, but not at her. With her.
She raised an eyebrow in response, almost amused despite herself. “A bold claim, Ser. Do you often sing?”
He grinned at her again, clearly pleased she was playing along with him. For all his taunts and mockery when she was his captor, when he tried, he truly was one of the most charming people she had ever met.
“No, I hardly ever have an opportunity. I only sing for maidens.” He replied easily, laughter clear in his tone as she blushed harder, giving him a glare in response. She somehow didn’t get angry with him, and in a corner of her mind wondered why, for if anyone else had said something like that to her, she would’ve given them a quick right hook for it, or just simply walked away. With Jaime, however, it was different.
She shook off those thoughts and gave him back his water, shivering as their fingers brushed against each other. He didn’t move his hand back right away, his eyes on where they touched before meeting hers again. His smile had grown soft, the lines easing on his face. The firelight made his skin look like it was glowing gold, and she looked back at the fire quickly, biting her bottom lip.
He took a drink of his water and placed it next to him, clearing his throat. He gave her a little laugh, surprisingly sounding shy as he said, “Now, remember, I don’t much get a chance to sing. But - I hope you will remember my voice, instead of his or theirs.” Then he began to sing.
His voice was low and smooth, and although she had to lean in to hear him above their traveling companions, his singing was pleasant to her ears, and she found herself humming along to it.
They shared a smile with each other, a peace settling between them as he sang into the night. Yes, she thought, now I will not hear Locke or his men. Now, I will hear his voice first.
"My bear! She sang. My bear so fair!
And off they went, from here to there.
The bear, the bear and the maiden fair."