Work Text:
PART 1
Jaime slept lightly and fitfully, unable to rest while his jumbled thoughts kept leading him further from peace. He was easily awoken by the whisper of feet and the tap of staffs on the stone as silent brothers rushed past his hut, paying little heed to his futile attempts at finding tranquility. Swinging his feet off the cot and slipping them into his boots, he did not bother tying the laces, but threw open the door to find the men of the Quite Isle hurrying to the shore. Jaime followed their burning torches down the steps of the hill, instinct and memory guiding him where the edges of the landscape remained cloaked in shadows. When he passed the Hermit’s hole, he noticed that it was empty. The Elder Brother was awake, too.
Bolting past the brothers, he almost slipped on the wet stone as he cleared the trees and came to see the Trident flowing in front of him. The river twinkled with the reflection of the stars above, rippling with the steady current that had picked up speed since Jaime had arrived. He found the Elder Brother already knee deep in the water, his eyes set on a point on the far shore. Jaime peered in the darkness to see a small light coming closer, as bright as the stars but far more ominous, making his heart race and his stomach lurch with fear.
“Is it them?” He barely got out the words. They sounded small and uncertain, but still they seemed to echo in the silence of the brothers. The only other noise cutting through the night was the hush of the current as it swept by them.
“Yes,” came the Elder Brother’s gruff reply. He turned to one of the men next to him. “Bring more lanterns and prepare one of the women’s cottages and room in the cloisters…and wake Septon Harlo. We may need his help with any wounded.”
Jaime glared as the brother turned to head back up to the sept. “Do you know what-“
“No, Jaime. I have been sending out the boat every few hours searching for them. Brother Taggot woke me to report that the boat had released a signal that it was returning with passengers.” The Elder Brother glanced at Jaime for the first time. His brows were knit and the frown marring his stern face was wrought with pity, but Jaime was not sure for whom. The fires glinted off his bald head, lighting up the gleam in his eyes. “I tried to tell her to go home, but she would not give up on her vows. Her duties. Her desires. I have prayed to the Seven that she fulfills them all. But it seems the Mother has only brought back a broken lady.”
Jaime looked away from the Elder Brother’s gaze and watched as the boat made its way through starry swells to the Isle. He trekked out farther into the water as it came close enough to throw out towlines. “Brienne of Tarth will never be broken.” He lifted his hand to catch one of the ropes tossed from the stern and turned back to shore, determinately pulling the line over his shoulder.
The boat was small and barely sat above the water, only leaving room for two brothers at each oar and a lantern post at both ends, with another brother used to navigate. Sitting in the benches towards the back were the four passengers that had been at the opposite shore. As the front of the hull was dragged over the stones, Jaime recognized Septon Harlo as he darted down the hill with a satchel and men, trailing behind with pallets. The oarsmen helped a boy and an older man hobble off the boat, wounded and shaken. But they were conscious, so Jaime only glanced at them in passing as he followed Septon Harlo.
A man was trying to lift a large, limp form from the benches. His hands trembled and they slipped on the blood that now covered the wooden slats, himself, and his burden. As the brothers with one of the pallets reached the pair, they were able to drag the body onto it and make their way across the slick deck back to drier land.
Jaime’s heart sank when he saw matted straw hair and pale, freckled skin peaking through the strands. He could feel the breath leave him. “Brienne.” It had been a prayer on his lips for days, but now it felt like a knife in his gut.
He tried to go to her, but Septon Harlo was there, checking her pulse and searching for the sources of the blood. The passenger that had been with her made his way to the other side of the pallet and took her hand. Jaime felt his ghost fingers twitch in annoyance, but his true hand only went out to grasp her calf beside the man. He was plain enough, but Jaime did not like his saunter as they walked next to Brienne, who was carried by the brothers back up the hill.
“Who are you?” Jaime demanded.
The man scoffed with offense. “Ser Hyle Hunt. I can guess who you are, though, Kingslayer.” He shot a glance at Jaime’s stump. “Brienne was right to drop the dead weight before she came for us.”
Jaime ignored the last of what he said while he struggled to disregard the blood that was steadily dripping onto Hunt’s boot and the soft moans escaping Brienne’s pursed lips. He decided to keep his tone light, but his grip on Brienne’s calf tightened so hard, her leg jerked. “A knight? A brave one, too, I presume. Yet here is the lady, her life pouring from her body, and you walking tall.” In truth, Hunt was limping and it appeared his right shoulder was dislocated, but Jaime was not willing to spare concern.
There was a glint in Hunt’s eye as if he meant to continue bantering with Jaime, but as they cleared the steps and the cloister appeared ahead, next to the windmill, Hunt’s gaze turned inwards. “She championed for you. And won. Stoneheart sent another man to meet her. And when she won again, she sent out two. Then there were three and by then, Brienne had been stabbed multiple times and could barely hold her sword. That was when the old knight in the red tatters, Thoros I think I heard them call him, tried to put a stop to it. Some listened, but the rest were hungry for blood. One of the boys sent a bolt into the belly of the man, Lemoncloak, who held me. All hells broke loose then. When I could look around, afterwards, Brienne’s squire was dragging her from Stoneheart’s body. She was still holding her sword, pierced right through Stoneheart’s neck and embedded in the tree behind her. They had hanged us all from that tree.”
Jaime looked down at Brienne. Her eyes would flutter open occasionally and he could glimpse the clear blue shining through from beneath her lids. Stupid, stubborn wench. What was it worth saving these three if you come back to me to die? What was it worth saving me? He regarded Septon Harlo on the other side of the pallet, trying desperately to plug a dagger wound in Brienne’s inner thigh. “Will she live?”
The septon looked up at Jaime with a panicked expression. “By the grace of the gods, Ser, I do not know if she will make it through the night.” He went back to stuffing linen into Brienne’s leg, though it appeared to be doing little to stem the flow of blood.
The Elder Brother appeared then, with barely a whisper to signal his approach, directing the men to the women’s cabins, skimming the edges of the graveyard, a destination Jaime was grateful they were not heading. The Elder Brother had a jar of leeches with him as well, but did not acknowledge Jaime or Hunt. He simply strode beside them, nodding while Harlo reported on the injuries. Jaime tried not to listen, not to mark down in his ribs every wound that she had suffered for them all.
He placed his stump on Hunt's arm and said, “Go get some rest, Hunt. I will stay with Brienne.”
The knight shrugged him off, sneering and moving to hold Brienne’s hand closer. “Sleep yourself, Kingslayer. Brienne risked her life for mine.”
No. She risked her life for mine. As if he had spoken those thoughts out loud, The Elder Brother turned to watch Jaime. Ignoring the others, Jaime leaned over Hunt to speak softly to Brienne. “Wench….Brienne. Don’t worry, you fool. You are safe now. It will all be okay.”
Brienne stirred at his words. The hand that Hunt was clasping wiggled free slightly and she reached for the source of his voice. “Jaime,” she murmured. Her arm moved more forcibly towards him and Hunt grudgingly let go. Jaime quickly clutched her hand and took Hunt’s place by her side. “Jaime. I will not fail you.”
“You never will. Hush. I’m here.”
Brienne gasped his name once more as they entered one of the women’s cabins, stones curving up into the night like a large honeycomb. He caught only a glimpse of Hunt standing outside as the door was pushed shut. Jaime felt slightly triumphant at Brienne’s recognition of him, but though he found himself cherishing his name on her lips, the weakness in her tone sent cold fear running back through his veins.
They transferred Brienne to a soft cot in the centre of the small room. Her grip on Jaime’s hand remained firm as they positioned her, but fresh blood trickled from a gash on her side and tears were springing to her eyes. She was holding back moans as she thrashed fitfully on the mattress.
The men left as quickly as they had entered and Jaime was alone in the cabin with the Elder Brother and Septon Harlo. The septon produced a knife and began cutting away the legs of Brienne’s breeches, muttering to the Elder Brother about “too much blood”. Jaime turned away to look at her face and found she was watching him through bleary blue eyes. He gave her a small smile and squeezed her hand, feeling her return the pressure in his fingers until he thought she was trying to crush them.
The Elder Brother stepped around Jaime to come up on the other side of Brienne to slice at her tunic. When the blade reached her chest, he stopped to frown at Jaime. “It is time you go.”
Jaime’s head shot up and he looked at the Elder Brother aghast. Brienne also turned to him, her movements slower and tinged with pain. “What?! You cannot make me-“
“There are rules on the Quiet Isle, Jaime,” the Elder Brother began gently. “A man and a woman may not spend the night together.”
“We are not going to be fucking!” The Elder Brother winced at the obscenity. “I am staying beside my friend.” Jaime dropped his voice so that Brienne could not hear, though it seemed she was slipping out of consciousness. “Elder Brother, she could die tonight.”
“And she could not. It is not for you to see what must be done to try to save her.”
“The hells it isn’t,” Jaime grumbled. He thought about standing outside with Hunt while these two men tried to save the wench. His wench, whose hand was still trembling in his. When she was able to open her eyes again, they would search for him. What would she do if he was not there? Gods, what would I do? He couldn’t fathom it and in the moment of searching for what he needed past this night, he acted without further thought.
Jaime snaked his right arm under Brienne’s neck and picked her up slightly so that he could wake her. “Brienne,” he whispered, gently shaking her. She moaned, but opened her eyes and tried to focus on him. “Brienne, do you know where you are?”
Brienne frowned. “With you.”
The words made Jaime’s stomach roll. He felt more determined, spurred by her confidence in him. In them. “Yes, always. But where are we?”
“The Quiet Isle?”
“Good. Brienne, the Elder Brother is telling me I have to leave now-“
“No,” Brienne tried to sit up in his arms. She became more alert, but the panic in her face was heart wrenching. She reached for his shoulders, clasping onto his sleeves. “Why do you want to go?”
“I don’t want to, Brienne, but you know the rules.” Jaime helped her lay back down on the cot. The septon was giving him angry glances for riling his patient so, Jaime tried to pat her soothingly. “Do you want me to stay?”
“If you would, Jaime.”
“Would you like me to never leave, not even after tonight?”
Brienne gazed up at him. He could not read her expression, but her hold on him did not loosen. A blush slowly crept up her cheeks, visible even in the dying flames, and her lip quivered. “If…if you would, Jaime.”
Jaime looked back at the septon, who now had both of Brienne’s pale, muscled legs exposed. The dagger cut in her thigh had finally stopped bleeding and he had been working on extracting an arrow tip from her calf. At some point he had stopped to watch the two, his blade hovering above Brienne’s ankle. The Elder Brother halted in pulling out leeches from the jar he had brought. “Jaime. Is this what you want? Think about if she lives.”
Jaime considered Brienne making it through the night. He would know that if they had to part tomorrow, he was the one she would return to, that no matter what happened to them, they were united. It may be the one comfort he had before dying.
And if we live through this war? Jaime smiled at an image of blue-eyed children playing along white sands and crystalline waters. He thought about having to give up the Kingsguard. He had refused the Rock a long time ago, so he had no land to offer Brienne. He would not be a Lannister any more and he would barely be a knight. He would have no riches, only a tainted past, with a spurned lover. He could give Brienne nothing. But she would be his. And that was all he wanted.
Jaime took a deep breath and continued, “Then say these words after me, Brienne: I am yours and you are mine, from this day, until the end of my days.”
The silence in the room felt like a wall between him and Brienne. He could barely feel her hands on him, but he sensed her stiffen beneath his own. He stared at her, willed her in his mind to say it. Please, Brienne. Don’t leave me.
Tears spilled from her eyes, but she did not look away. “I-I am yours…and you-you are mine from this day…until the end-end of my-my days.” Then, her head fell back to the cot and she wept. Jaime leaned into her to place his dry lips upon hers, completing the ceremony. She flung her arms around his neck and weakly kissed him back. Jaime could not help but smile into it.
Then, the Elder Brother was pulling them apart and guiding Jaime to a chair beside the cot. Jaime reached out to touch Brienne, reassuring her that he was there. He would be there all night. She watched him as Septon Harlo went back to twisting his knife into her leg, humming lightly as he worked.
“Take off your shirt, Jaime,” the Elder Brother commanded. Jaime looked away from Brienne to stare questioningly up at him. The Elder Brother gestured to the leeches. “You are going to help us save your wife’s life.”
PART 2
At some point during the darkest hours of the night, Brienne felt a sensation like she had been dipped into the iciest of winter seas. The cold came from inside, though, and escaped her veins so as to freeze her already strained lungs. She shivered and gasped for air before a hard blackness swallowed her whole.
When her mind finally floated to the surface, Brienne dreamed she was standing on an empty tourney field. To her right, there was a lane of packed dirt where jousters would meet and behind that was rows of benches for the onlookers. To her left was a myriad of tents, representing knights from all over the land. With her tired mind, she could not help but think the colored fabrics looked like a motley mummer’s coat. Brienne tried to make out the insignias on the banners, but her eyes would not focus. As she tried to take in her surroundings and get her bearings, she could only truly see what she wanted, while her background would shift and change.
Brienne turned again in confusion and found herself face to face with a large lion. His mane and fur looked like burnished coins, but as Brienne turned away from the gleam, she caught glimpses of the lion shifting into an older man. Both images were bleeding gold blood from a wound in their stomach.
“He would have betrayed you,” came a voice from behind. Brienne whirled around to find the Imp regarding her carefully. She had not seen him after his rumored injures during the Battle of the Blackwater, but she could clearly make out the scars peeling across his eyes where his nose should have been. In his hand was a crossbow, notched, and aimed at her abdomen. “I betrayed you, after all. But I still tried to warn you about her.” Tyrion nodded his head to the side. The lion was only a blur now and as Brienne transferred her attention, her mind could no longer hold on to the image of the armed dwarf. It was all so strange, though. Why would she be dreaming of tourneys and Lannisters?
She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them again, the scene on the field and changed to Cersei, her silken hair and gossamer crimson gown floating in the wind as if she was underwater. She was kneeling inf ront of a funeral pyre, clutching the hilt of Oathkeeper in long, thin fingers. The sight of the Queen holding her sword made Brienne’s hands twitch unconsciously. She stepped towards Cersei, but her eyes shifted from the woman to the pyre as she moved. A still body had been laid in the center and small flames had already begun licking the dry embers around the edges.
As Brienne approached, she realized the corpse was her. She was dressed in shining blue armor, wrought with silver scrolls around the breast and gauntlets, with a wedding cloak of red velvet lying softly over the steel. A triumphant lion had been embroidered in gold thread across the center.
Cersei looked up as Brienne approached. She reached for her, dropping Oathkeeper, but Brienne recoiled from her grasping hands. “I told you to come,” Cersei hissed angrily. “You are mine, not hers. I will not let her come between us, Jaime.” Jaime? Brienne took another step back. Cersei was still beckoning to her and continued to speak. “Tyrion lied. They will all lie to keep us apart. I love you and only you, sweet brother. Come back to me!” Instead, Brienne turned and ran.
Sunlight cast the inside of Brienne’s eyelids to amber. Waking was a harsh realty that set her skin on fire and seeped into every wound that gnawed at her weak body. She pried one eye open just long enough to make out a stone roof above her with a small opening at the top. But there was no fire whose smoke would need to escape through such a hole. The sky above was a dusky pink, the light that had roused her coming from an open door on the other side of the room. Rays from the rising sun snaked along the grass outside and ran up the curved walls of the cottage to stab at Brienne, clawing their way further up the surface as the sun continued to peek over the horizon.
As Brienne looked down, she caught the shafts of light playing on top of a golden head that rested on her broad chest. She felt a slow burn begin in her belly as she risked opening her other eye. Jaime slept soundly upon her, his right arm slung across her body as he held his left close to his face, Brienne’s fingers entwined in his hand. She felt his burning breath across her knuckles and suddenly the room felt damp and small. He sat, hunched over in a chair next to her cot and, with his tunic removed, she could see dark welts spotting his back and arms.
The night's events came rushing back to Brienne just as the Elder Brother stepped through the open door. For a moment, she panicked at the thought of Jaime waking. She tried to gesture for silence, but the movement made her hiss in pain.
“You should be careful, My Lady,” the Elder Brother chastised as Jaime’s head bolted up from her breast. Soft emerald eyes peered down at her and Brienne shuddered as Jaime dragged her hand with him as he sat up, placing it on his hard chest. He grinned, but there was a glint in his eyes that made her blush. “Jaime and I have spent most of the night tending you. It would be a shame for you to open a wound so soon.”
“Yes, wench.” Jaime’s tone was proudly arrogant. “Some of us stay where we are needed.” Standing, he placed her hand on the cot, Brienne finding her fingers twitching to be put back in his warm grasp. Instead, she watched him throw on his tunic. “I will get us some food.” In three strides, he was outside and vanishing from her sight, but not before she saw the sun catch on his skin and the soft breeze stir his silken hair. She sighed. If I were not in so much pain, I would think I was dead.
“He did not take kindly to your disappearance that night,” the Elder Brother was saying as he peeled away a bandage on her forearm. There was a basin of cold water sitting on another chair by the head of the cot, fresh bandages and soft linen being produced to dip into the bowl to clean her wounds.
Brienne tried to recall the night she had left the Quiet Isle rather than focus on the sting that raced from her arm to her temple.
“What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time, wench?” Jaime had lounged on one of the benches in the common hall, his bowl of stew cooling at his elbow. The white and gold armor of the Kingsguard was tucked away in a recess of the sept, though he still wore the cream tunic embroidered with scrolls of gold stitching down the sleeve, and pale breeches tucked into even lighter leather boots. Brienne thought he looked like a lion, rather than Lord Commander.
“There is no trouble I cannot handle, Ser,” Brienne had replied, trying to hide her blush by tearing off a chunk of bread. “You must trust me.”
“Oh, I do,” he had laughed then, the sound making her knees tremble. During her lonely quest, she had not forgotten the hum of his mirth, but to hear it outside of her dreams made her excited. And frightened. “I trust you to do something idiotic and noble. You must think that an old man like me did not notice that there were others besides Lannister men following us out of my camp.”
Brienne silently ridiculed herself. Of course Jaime would see. She tried to sound unconcerned as she said, “There were others. I will deal with that.”
“Fine, then. When are leaving this miserable island? I swear, Brienne, I am tired of hearing my piss echo across this hill. The silence is torture.”
Brienne had offered placating words, telling him a couple more days. They had parted ways at the entrance to the hall, Jaime heading towards the cloister while Brienne trekked across the isle to the women’s cottages, followed by the slice of the shovel digging in the graveyard. She did not think Jaime would ever forgive her, but she had little hope that she would live to see his disapproving face. It would be a small price to know that he had a chance to escape. He would be safe and that was all that she wanted.
The tide was out that evening, so the Elder Brother waited with only his staff at the shore. He frowned at her, his gaze following the swing of Oathkeeper bouncing off of her hip. It was a clear night with a bright moon, allowing Brienne to make out all of the pools and the soft, treacherous mud that stretched from the Quiet Isle to the other shore. There would be no need of a torch to make their way across. If Jaime looked out into the night, he would only see shadows twisting in the eddies.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” the Elder Brother inquired.
Brienne did not know how to answer that so, she simply replied, “You will keep him here for long enough and then send him off to the opposite shore.”
“Yes, yes,” the Elder Brother sighed. “He would go with you, if you let him. He needs you.”
Brienne did not want to hear such things. She did not like how they closed her throat and made her chest tighten. “I need him too. I need him to live,” she whispered. She stepped onto the mud, her boots squelching and sinking slightly. After a moment, she heard the Elder Brother follow.
Goodbye, Jaime.
But she had not died. During the night, she had wished that she would so that the pain would stop, but a hand had kept her grounded to the world. Its pressure had been a constant anchor through the hours. Whenever she could surface to gasp for air, she would follow the hand up the arm, over the shoulders and past the neck to find Jaime watching her. Her husband. He did not take kindly to your disappearance that night. And yet he married her.
The Elder Brother looked at her closely as he tended to her wounds. “Did you dream?” It was a simple question, but it jarred Brienne. He watched her as if he knew what she had seen. Without waiting for a reply, he continued, “They will stop with time, but I would not mention them to Ser Jaime.”
“Why not? What do they mean? What-what are they?”
“They are his dreams,” the Elder Brother seemed uncomfortable, looking over to an empty jar next to the door. “There are many kinds of people that visit or wash up on the Quiet Isle, Brienne. Some of them come from places we have only heard of in stories and they have knowledge that we could not even fathom. A few will share what they know.”
Brienne frowned. “The marks on Jaime’s chest-“
“Are a small price to pay for your life. His blood runs through you now. The…medicine that allows me to transfer blood from one body to another leaves traces of the original. Some have said they have had dreams that belonged to the other. But that should be all you have to worry about.”
Brienne silently agreed that she would keep Jaime’s dreams to herself. She did not like the guilt that weighed him down, though. Or the thoughts of returning to Cersei.
As the Elder Brother finished replacing her bandages, Jaime returned with Ser Hyle and Pod trailing after him. He appeared nonchalant, but a vein in his neck pumped furiously as he set a bowl of porridge and bacon in her lap. He took his place back in the chair, taking up his own spoon, but keeping an eye on her. The Elder Brother slipped out the door as the other two crowded inside.
“Ser, er, My Lady,” Pod smiled. The collar of his coat shifted to reveal red splotches along his throat where the noose had begun to cut into his skin. Pod moved to hide the wound back under his clothing as soon as he realized where her gaze had landed. Brienne noticed that Ser Hyle’s tunic was open, his own welts glaring at her like reminders of her failure and betrayal. “We-we were so worried about you.”
“I will be fine, Pod,” she replied. “I’m…Pod, Ser Hyle, I am so sorry for what I have put you through.” She watched as Pod looked to the ground, digging at a stone with the toe of his boot. Ser Hyle blew out air and sat at the foot of her cot, leaning over her legs to regard her. From the corner of her eye, Brienne saw Jaime sit up straighter and put down his breakfast.
“Your problem, Brienne, is that you do not let anyone help you,“ Ser Hyle was saying to her. “I would have gladly been beside you, if you had just cut my ties.”
Brienne shook her head. “It was my fault you were both there and my right to defend Jai-Ser Jaime. I accepted the risks when I swore to find Sansa. You and Pod did not make such vows.”
The grin that split Ser Hyle’s face made Brienne nervous. She tried to shift slightly so that he was not hovering over her lower body. “Well, now, there are some vows that you and I should discuss after risking your life for mine. Have you thought anymore about my marriage propo-“
Jaime stood so suddenly, the bowl at his feet tipped over and Pod jumped. Brienne caught the flash of a dark expression cross his face before his shoulders relaxed and he offered Ser Hyle a half-smile. “Lady Brienne is still recovering from her ordeal. Perhaps you two should come back before sunset.”
Pod started to head towards the door, but Ser Hyle did not move. He frowned as if noticing Jaime for the first time. The vein in Jaime’s neck began to work again, but his smile did not slip as Hunt surveyed him, sizing each other up. Eventually, the tension was broken when Ser Hyle rose and followed after Pod. He called over his shoulder to Brienne, “We will talk some time when we are alone, My Lady.”
Brienne tried to formulate some reply. She wanted to tell Hunt to keep silent since she had already denied him once. But Jaime was no longer glaring at Ser Hyle, his jade eyes darkening to set upon her face. Under his gaze, she could barely breathe and no words would come out of her gaping mouth. “Ser Hyle,” Jaime called, his voice strained. “There will be no need for any further discussion of marriage between you and Brienne. She already has a husband.”
Brienne felt two more pairs of eyes fall on her as Ser Hyle and Pod turned. Pod mumbled forms of congratulations and, though he had not been able to look at Jaime yet, he gave her a quick, wide grin before looking back down at his boots. Ser Hyle’s expression flickered from fury to confusion, settling upon a stoic determination as he inclined his head back towards her. “May you have many ugly sons. We will check on you before sunset, Brienne.” With that, the two escaped out of the door.
It was only a moment after their footsteps disappeared in the soft grass on the hill before Jaime kicked the bowl at his feet again, making Brienne flinch. He moved close to the cot, his left hand gripping the edge. “You left me stranded here on this bloody Isle for days with nothing to do but worry about you. I thought you were trying to protect me. But you dumped me here so that you could save the man who proposed to you?!”
“No! No!” Brienne reached for his arm, but he yanked it away. How could he not understand? Because you were afraid to tell him how you felt, you silly girl. “Jaime, Ser Hyle did ask me to marry him but he admitted it was only for the land and title! I refused him! I-I did not refuse you!”
“Yes, how could I forget our own marriage,” Jaime scoffed. “You were barely conscious and I thought you were going to die. Did you even know it was me you were saying those vows to, or did you hope it was Hunt?”
The venom in his words startled Brienne, although he was no longer glaring at her. Instead, his eyes scanned every inch of the room except her face. As he began pacing, his left hand clenching and unclenching, Brienne tried to put her feet on the floor. Pain laced up her calves and thighs, but rather than fueling her despair, it set fire to anger. She grabbed the first thing that was within her reach, her pillow, and flung it at Jaime, hitting him in the temple. Before he could react, she said, “I knew it was you! I have refused men before Ser Hyle, who desired Tarth rather than me, because I would only marry for love. And that is what I did last night. I married you because I love you, Jaime.” The look in his eyes extinguished the irritation in her belly, cooling it so quickly that she felt cold knives in her gut. She flushed at how bold she was being, but she could not stop now. “But, I understand that you wanted to stay because you thought I was dying. I know I am not Cersei and this would mean you would betray your oaths to the Kingsguard. I-I would not hate you if-if we pretended like last night did not happen.”
That forced him to look at her. Brienne could not read his expression completely, but she saw the same pain that was mirrored in her own eyes. “I suppose I am no longer an appropriate suitor for the Lady of Tarth,” he mumbled. “I have been disowned by my father, cast aside by my sister, and without any lands, name, or inheritance to offer as a dowry. And there was that nasty business about a king.”
“And you think any of that matters to me?” Brienne asked quietly.
“Do you think I was concerned about Cersei or my former duties when I said my vows to you?” he countered.
They were silent while they both wrestled with their own reservations and desires. Jaime finally said, “So…I guess we are still married then.”
Brienne ducked her head and stared at her hands in her lap to hide the sudden smile that came to her. She could not look up as Jaime sat next to her on the cot. Her husband. He reached over to place his hand on her knee, his light touch numbing the spots of pain that dotted her body and suffused her aching muscles with a sweet warmth. Brienne watched as Jaime’s fingers idly traced circles on the linen of her breeches while he thought. She was transfixed by the movement so much that she did not even realize when she moved her own hand to capture his. She stole a glance up at him to find Jaime smiling at her.
It only took a moment before he dipped his head so that he could rake his lips across her chin. Her shuddering response caused him to chuckle into her neck as his kisses moved towards her gasping mouth. When he finally took her lips, he had both of his arms wrapped around her and was pulling her into his chest. Brienne clung to his tunic like it was a lifeline and tried desperately to keep up with the movements of his lips. She felt clumsy and soft trying to kiss a man for the first time, especially one so sure of himself. But as her hands slithered into his hair and her mouth parted for his tongue, she heard the low rumble of his growl as he lowered her to the cot.
Brienne’s heart raced and she wrapped her legs around his waist. It was that movement, just as she planned on reaching for the laces to his tunic, that she was forced to remember the night before. As her calf hit his hard hip, she yelped with the shock of stabbing pain running up her leg. She immediately balled her hands, still immersed in Jaime’s silken hair, into tight fists. He let out a howl, too, as she yanked the locks.
Brienne snatched her arms back at the sound and let go of her hold on his waist. Jaime raised himself up on his elbows to look down at her, the smile still on his lips and glinting in his emerald eyes. “I suppose we should wait a little longer, hm, wife?” Brienne could only blush and nod. “I will stay here while you rest, though. Just in case you have any more ideas about sneaking out on your poor, dear husband.” She did not think that she would ever tire of this new teasing. Had she not been biting her lip from discomfort, she may even have tried to retaliate, but all thoughts rushed from her head as Jaime rolled off her. Brienne turned to her side, Jaime pressing up against her back with his arm draped across her waist. His breath tickled her neck and his lips would occasionally graze over her shoulder in soft kisses. “I love you, too, Brienne,” he murmured.
She could tell the moment he fell asleep as his breathing evened and his head tucked perfectly into her nape.
Eventually, Brienne slept as well. When she slipped back into a dream, she found herself on a rocky shore. Waves lapped lazily at her feet and made soft tinkling sounds amongst the stones. The echo of sweet laughter rang through the air, reverberating off cliffs and escaping over grassy hills far in the distance. Brienne turned to find a young child bouncing towards her, his unruly blonde hair flying out behind him to allow her to notice the freckles smattered across his large nose and cheeks. But his eyes were as green as an angry sea and his mouth and jaw were shaped handsomely. Farther down the shore, making her way to the pair was Jaime’s image of Brienne. She strode towards them, a quiet smile on her lips, dressed in blue linen breeches and a blue wool tunic with Oathkeeper swinging easily on her hip. With the boy wrapped around her legs, Brienne found herself reaching for her mirror image and returning the loving smile.