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"You are not dying.” It was a huff of warm air against the near frozen skin of her cheek.
His knees crunched into the snow as he knelt beside her.
"Jaime, don't." she managed. Her arms felt heavy and weak. She gently placed them on his chest armour, pushing him away. "You can catch up with the others. Go. Fight. Hurry! Before you lose them!" They were halting protests for him to keep moving.
"Cease your tongue," he growled.
He pushed his arms beneath her where she lay, and wobbled upwards, managing to lift her from the white banks spotted with her blood. Beside her lay the decapitated dead thing she had felled. Its mouth was agape and filling with snow. Knowing it would be senseless to protest, Brienne reluctantly wrapped her arms around Jaime’s neck and buried her face into his scarves.
Above them a dragon soared, darting in and out of the dark clouds, shrieking and wailing. All around them fires burned. Corpses and dead trees lit up like torches, meagre flames that were veiled by the icy storm.
"What of your men? They need you," Brienne whispered.
"The others take them all." he replied with a haggard breath. He was struggling. She was far too heavy. And he was wounded too.
"Thank the gods." he rasped.
Brienne looked up and spied a small cave, a cavern that was barely a slice within the rocks.
A light scent of an animal lingered in the tiny cave, most likely that of a bear. The only inhabitant now was a grinning skeleton, wrapped in leathers and furs of black. In his bony fist, he gripped a black dagger.
Jaime ripped the clothes from the dead man. He dropped it, the fabric pooling in the middle of the stony floor--kindling for a fire.
Brienne closed her eyes for a moment. How long has it been since I've slept?
"Brienne."
"It's so dark..." she whispered.
"It's always dark."
And cold… The dead are the coldest of all... A shiver went through her. She could feel herself losing the fight against her exhaustion. How many had we vanquished only to watch them rise again?
When she opened her eyes, she was met with the sight of Jaime sitting across from her.
“How long have I slept?”
Jaime peered at her through scarlet scarves, his hair wet from melted snow. The fire had died, but she could see blackened embers peeking through a pile of white ash still holding a scant amount of orange. Jaime pulled his scarf down. His beard was growing out. The golden hairs tinged with silver framed a perfect mouth. "Not long enough. Your leg is cut badly. I've bandaged it."
Brienne looked down to her lap. She was covered in his cloak. Its embroidered red and gold lions appeared to be climbing up at her. She reached her fingers beneath the cloak and gasped as her fingers touched her bare thigh. She blushed as she felt the linens he had had wrapped around her wound. There was some stickiness where her blood had seeped through.
Jaime turned to look at the mouth of the cave. "We will rest until this storm has calmed.”
How long will that be? They had marched through a blizzard that lasted a moon’s turn. Hundreds of men lost and all their horses had perished. Only a scant few of their army remained. Most had fled back to the south. Brienne wondered if her letters ever made it home to Tarth.
Brienne closed her eyes and rested the back of her head against the cave wall. Forgive me father… She liked to imagine Lord Selwyn safe at Evenfall Hall next to the hearth of a healthy fire. She knew in the recesses of her heart that it was most unlikely.
“Brienne?”
Her tears felt like hot slices across her cold cheeks.
Jaime was at her side. “Is it the cut?”
She shook her head. Feeling foolish for allowing herself to be so weak in his presence.
He felt her forehead. “No fever.”
Brienne was startled by the feel of his hand on her. She stiffened and kept her eyes on the smoldering ashes of the fire.
His fingers trailed along the ugly scars of her old wounds on her cheek in a gentle caress.
Brienne flinched away slightly.
He stroked a tear away with his thumb.
“What are you doing?” she asked in a weak whisper.
Jaime cradled her face in his warm palm; he moved his fingers beneath her chin, lifting her face upwards to meet his.
Panic set her heart beating; the sound was thunder at her ears. Jaime Lannister leaned towards her, and with a turn of his head, his lips were upon hers.
Brienne surrendered, and closed her eyes; the scruff of his face brushed against her skin. It felt like a stolen sensation--something that belonged to another.
His tongue pressed against her lips; the thundering of her heart beat quickened as she opened her mouth. Wet, warm, and wanting the kiss deepened, her tongue flicking against his.
Thoughts came and thoughts went, all of them fleeting as she drowned in the sensation of his kiss.
She felt a brief stab of sorrow as he pulled away. Her breath mingled with his. There was a lightness in his eyes she’d never seen before, and an easy smile upon his lips.
“First kiss?”
Brienne nodded dumbly, her senses lost to her.
He nestled in beside her, “It will not be your last.”
His hand found hers beneath the cloak. Fingers entwined, Jaime’s head leaned against hers.
Together they watched the fire die.