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She had been meaning to show him the island, the one he had so boldly claimed was overflowing with sapphires half a lifetime ago when they were still teetering on the edge of hatred and mistrust, ever since her ailing father had welcomed them into the chilly embrace of Evenfall Hall. He had been instantly suspicious of the 'friend' she'd only recently started to mention in her letters, but Jaime had nowhere else to go after he had been stripped of his family name, his inheritance, his duty, as penance for an act committed in order to save a city that would never know enough to be grateful. He would claim otherwise, she knew, but of all the things the crown had taken from him, Jaime's honour was still in place.
And so was hers.
Not just the one that existed when she stood, sword in hand, clad in shining armour, but the one her father cared about more, the one that weighed heavy between her legs. She had lain with Jaime since the spring had returned, done wonderful, breathless, heart pounding things with him, but he had stubbornly refused to take her maidenhead until he had beaten her in a fight. Brienne was surprised that she found the whole situation rather frustrating, despite having recently learned that Jaime was as good at keeping his mouth occupied in order to clear her mind as he was at using it to incite her into a rage.
Now, her mail was heavier than she remembered, the gleam from the shirt of silver almost blinding in the morning sunshine, as Jaime's boredom over sparring in the flat, open yard had finally provided her with an opportunity to show him some of the island she loved. No sooner had she led him into one of many colourful clearings she'd spent time in as a child, though, was Jaime's sword up and they were dancing, back and forth, their swords charging and retreating and meeting again for another silver tipped kiss. Over and over they pushed for whatever would provide them with a viable advantage, forgetting for an endless moment that they should have only been practising, until, breathless, they sprang apart, the way her blood cried out for more and his pupils dilated as he ran his eyes down her body reminding Brienne of another fight they had shared.
"Not bad for a one handed knight, ay, wench?" Jaime quipped with a lazy, slowly spreading smile, saving her the trouble of finding a remark clever enough to produce the same reaction while she was still trying to catch her breath. "You sure you can keep up?"
"Jaime..." she began, stepping back into the fray before she could continue, sliding and striking and slashing, burning up from the inside out as he used his body weight to press against her at the end of each hit, faster and faster and faster, tricking her into making a mistake, flushing, panting, wanting.
"Yield," he purred, pushing her back with little more than the gravel in his voice until she felt the trunk of the tree coming up behind her. Near pinned, Brienne shifted and twisted the best she could in the space, feeling the tell tale trickle of arousal pooling in her stomach as Jaime almost accidentally rolled his hips and they both groaned.
"No," she snapped, pulling her sword up again despite becoming more and more preoccupied with the idea of kissing him, the collision of steel on steel reverberating through her bones. As they resumed their fiercely thought out parry and attack, becoming a blur of silver, neither were able to land a winning blow. She knew she would feel the bruises later, they both would, though it wasn't as if they hadn't played this particular game before.
In the end, it was the place she used to know so well that was her undoing, Jaime somehow managing to stay lithe and graceful despite the grey springing up through his mane and beard, his gilded right hand a better shield than Brienne could have imagined had she not seen it in action every day for years. Tripping over a tree stump as she tried to evade his next thrust, she found herself falling, a patch of soft, silvery grey heather gently breaking her descent to the ground. Jaime had his sword at her throat before she could deflect the movement, realising thankfully she had no other options left.
"Yield, my love, and marry me."
She sighed, the movement jarring the blade’s blunted tip as she inhaled the tang of metal. "You have me." You've had me for longer than I think I know. "I yield."