GoT S8E4 Ch. 02

Jaime woke in the morning light alone in the bed. Brienne was back in her nightshirt, stoking the fire. It made him smile. "Good morning, ser," he said.

Brienne started, dropping the poker to the floor. "Good morning," she said hastily as she righted the tool, making sure it was on the hook at the hearth. "I have duties, but you can sleep, if you choose."

Sleep would be a welcome escape, but it was useless. "No, I don't sleep well, anymore. Even with last night's festivities," he sat up. "Is there any water?"

Brienne gestured to the clay pitcher on the table. She was not a person for small talk, but this was quiet even for her. Jaime got out of bed and walked across the room as she laid out her clothes. He drank, then grabbed her around the waste, pulling her to him. "Are you all right? You haven't looked at me, and you always look at me, especially when I am naked."

She blushed from her chest past her freckles and up into her blond hair. "No I don't!"

He put his hand up and pulled her face down to look at him, his right arm still holding her close, though the couple of inches of difference in their heights did put him at a little disadvantage. "It's alright," he said, going to the balls of his feet to give her a swift kiss. "I like that you look."

Slowly, she placed her hands on his shoulders. "Last night," she managed.

Their gazes met, and Jaime felt a little wobble in his chest. She might have thought better of this, in the daylight.

"Oh, no need for that face," she said. "Last night was wonderful. I - I don't know"

"Shh," he said. "Forget everything I ever said about you needing to be chattier."

They kissed, and he would have liked another round of bedplay, but she said, "I do have to meet with Lady Sansa."

They both dressed. Jaime realized he had nowhere to go and nothing to do. It was an odd feeling, one he wasn't sure he wanted as a regular part of his life - it reminded him a little too much of the day his own son told him he was irrelevant to the King's Guard, the little shit.

Brienne was watching him fuss with the ties on his jerkin, but she didn't step in. Instead she asked, "What will you do now?"

"What will *you* do now?" he asked back, teasing her for knowing him too well.

"I am sworn to Lady Sansa alone. I will remain here in Winterfell to protect her and do her bidding, even if the Northern armies march to King's Landing. Will you follow your brother? You two - you were very funny together last night," she said. "You are plainly very close."

"I love Tyrion," he said. "It has been good to be with him again after all these years. But I don't think the Dragon Queen would like me that close to her."

"You could stay here, with me," she said quickly, as she fastened her belt and sheath around her waist.

"I would need Lady Sansa's permission for that," he said. "Though, if you're wondering, I would like to stay," he said, relieved she asked him again.

"Come with me then. We can ask her first thing and then you can piss off to eat and practice in the yard. Gods know you need it," she said, giving him that fake frown she got when she was teasing him back.

"Sounds good, ser," he said with a small bow.

***

In the light of the fire in the empty tavern in Winterfell village, Jamie observed his brother take in the news he had just given him.

"So you're staying here," Tyrion said. "With Ser Brienne."

"She is sworn to protect the Stark girl, so we stay here," he said. So far Tyrion was just thinking it over, though it seemed his eyebrows were doing most of the work. Jaime couldn't tell what Tyrion thought. He was almost sure it wouldn't be good. "Go ahead, say something snide, I can take it," he said with a sigh.

Tyrion's eyebrows shot up, "I'm happy - I'm happy that you're happy. It makes all of this worth it, if one of us finds some contentment in this life. One of us besides Cersei."

Jaime smiled over his mug, thinking of Brienne. She wasn't pretty, but he was pretty enough for both of them. She was passionate too, his match on the battlefield or in bed. More than that, she was good, truly good, what was best in a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms.

Tyrion sipped his ale. "Will you marry? You could go back to Casterly Rock and father giant sons and daughters for House Lannister. You're still capable. I would approve, whole-heartedly."

"Gods no!" Jaime said. "What is marriage for except castles and children and never ending litanies of problems and responsibilities. Brienne fought all her life to be a respected knight, and here, in Winterfell, she is just that. We share a bed. We are - together - why can't that be enough?"

Tyrion waved a hand at him. "Fine, fine. Be happy - together," he said with a smirk. "Finally, you'll have to climb for it, which also makes me happy. Do you know how long I have waited to tell tall person jokes?"

Jaime laughed and smiled at his brother's jest. He did have to climb for it, but she was worth it. He just shook his head at his brother.

Tyrion raised his mug, "To climbing mountains." His words were humorous, but Jaime could see Tyrion was genuinely pleased for him.

"To climbing mountains," Jaime returned quietly, raising his mug and clinking it with his brother's. They drank in peaceful enjoyment.

Then Tyrion gave him a terrible grin. "So, what's she like down there?" he asked.

"What?" he spat out, affronted by the question. "That is not your concern." His fellow men, even his brother disappointed him. Questions like that were why Brienne was so quiet and defensive, and he found all of them outrageous.

"You misunderstand me, Brother," Tyrion said, leaning in. "I haven't been with a woman for years. Come on, give me a morsel. Something fresh to think about while I go about my business."

"You're a dog!" Jaime said in a clipped tone. Still he could see his brother was mostly kidding.

"I am the imp, and I demand to know!" he said, knocking on the table.

Jaime squirmed, irritated by how much his brother could get under his skin and make him laugh, both at once. He tried to think up a witty answer but came up blank, so he went with the truth. "Brienne is a woman to honor and treasure, not gossip about in a tavern with one's brother. Now let it go, Imp."

***

Jamie burst through Brienne's door, not knowing what he would find; Bronn could have come here before the tavern, or even beat him back here, no matter how fast he rode. He knew his sister. Cersei would strike out in anyway she could to inflict pain. That crossbow in Bronn's hands had put such a fear in him he could barely breathe - only his feelings about Myrcella's safety had been stronger. He'd been unable to save his daughter, and that had gutted him.

But there Brienne stood in a robe and nightshirt poking at the fire. He almost laughed at the sturdy predictability of her.

She nodded at him. "I was worried, until I saw your things here," she said.

He locked the door behind him before walking into the room, stopping at the pegs to take off his cloak and kick off his boots. "I'm sorry. I was having a drink with Tyrion. I told him about us, why I wasn't marching with the army. That I would be staying here with you."

She pulled her robe tighter around her. "What did he say?" Her lower lip pouted out a little bit.

He felt the wobble in his chest again, her face was so easy to read. She could damn the whole world, and still have chinks in her armor, important people whose opinions mattered to her. She was worried about what his brother Tyrion would think, just as she had been worried about what Sansa would think - especially given his history with her in the capital. Lady Sansa had given him a look that would curdle milk, but had invited him to stay, carefully pointing out how important Ser Brienne was to Winterfell. Those that knew Brienne properly loved her and would protect her, he well knew. Besides, if he was being honest, Lady Sansa's disdain was well earned.

He went to Brienne, crowding her back against the wall near the hearth. "Tyrion is happy that we are happy," he said, kissing her neck. "We have his blessing, so don't worry about him anymore." He slipped his hand inside the robe and abraded her little nipples against the coarse linen, switching one from the other.

Her chest flushed. She twisted out of her robe and started pulling at Jaime's clothes. He helped undress himself as best he could, and when he was finally naked he pulled Brienne's nightshirt up over her head. He looked at her, then stooped to lick her puffy peaks. They excited him, mostly because they seemed to please her so much. He moved down her body, kissing as he went, until he was on his knees. He skimmed his hand over her muscular legs and taut tummy, ran it over her blond mound.

See eyed him, kneeling before her. "What are you doing, ser?"

"I'm going to kiss you, ser, and you're going to like it," he answered. Stroking her mound, he murmured, "I'm going to kiss you here."

She drew a muscular thigh over the other and covered herself. "Why?"

"Have I been wrong yet?" he asked before kissing her thigh, then licking up the crease between thigh and torso.

"Hmm," she hissed, and leaned back against the wall, opening her stance.

He made eye contact with her noticing the big, beautiful blue eyes that at their first meeting judged him and now accepted him. As his tongue made its first pass, her knees buckled a little, so he used his stump arm to push her against the wall, leaving his other free to give her pleasure. And please her he did, with tongue and fingers, splitting her swollen sex to find her center. Her noises, her body, they were so easy to read; she made pleasing her so simple for him. As he knelt there, his senses full of her, he prayed to the gods that this would never change, because in other ways he wasn't sure he was enough for her.

She squeezed his shoulder. "Stand up," she said. "I want you here."

As he rose she wrapped a long leg around him, and reached down between them to guide him into her. They kissed, joining easily, for once the height difference working in their favor. He put his hand up against the wall, leaned into her. Given their strength and stamina, this position was going to last a long time. In this way she was effortless, even as she challenged his sense of honor, his sense of justice, of knighthood - even what it meant to be a man. He relished the chance to not go away in his head, but be rooted here, in this place, in this woman, as long as his body and hers would allow.

***

"So what about this sellword has you so worried," Brienne asked later, lying next to him in her bed.

"He's now Ser Bronn, knighted by Geoffrey for his service at the Battle of the Blackwater. Either way, he's an unforgiving bastard, and he will do what he says. My family has broken our word to him several times. He is out for himself now, so it doesn't matter to him who wins or loses, he is playing both sides. As he should."

She lightly brushed a finger back and forth over the end of his stump as it lay between them. "What makes you think so?"

"I watched Tyrion try the old 'we need a general' trick on Bronn - again - when Bronn knows all of our tricks. If he ends up dead he doesn't get paid. It was an arrogant mistake and I can't believe Tyrion made it. My brother is clever, but I worry he's not ruthless enough to win against the likes of Bronn, much less Cersei. Tyrion, it seems, prefers to find an arrangement, rather than a final solution."

He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. "Promise me you'll be careful when you're out of the castle, and that you'll mind the gate for him. That crossbow is a dangerous weapon. If it were me, I'd find him and kill him before he has a chance to make good on any of his promises, to Cersei or to us. Perhaps I will, if Sansa has no tasks for me."

"You can't mean that," she said. "He was your friend, he served you well. And you did mislead him, or at least didn't make good on your word after that dragon attacked. Has he truly earned such an execution?"

"Sweet Innocence, people rarely get what they deserve, for either good or bad behavior. I certainly haven't. His death is necessary to keep everyone safe," he said, but sensing her opinion of his words he added, "Or at least what might be necessary. If he doesn't show himself, I suppose we only really need to take a few precautions."

Brienne nodded. "You feel he is dangerous, so I'll go over his description and that of the crossbow with the remaining guards tomorrow."

"Thank you, for listening to me. Bronn knows about you and I, and he's always thought we were too familiar. It worries me that he knows, because now I don't know if my sister knows."

He saw her lower lip tense. "How so?"

"Because, ser. A ruthless man aims where it would hurt, at best kill his enemy. My sister aims to maim, cripple, and keep you alive to do it all over again. If any harm came to you through her," he stopped. "I know you can handle yourself, but she'd probably use poison. She's done it before."

Brienne cuddled up next to him "For you, I'm willing to take the risk," she said with a kiss. "Now can we please stop talking of your hateful sister? She makes me jealous."

"You? Jealous?" he said, squeezing her to him. "I'd ravish you to prove there's nothing to be jealous of, but you've exhausted me, ser." And there it was, that smile, that beam just for him. He'd first seen it when he'd knighted her, then watched her come into it as she rode him to her pleasure. It made him miserable and the happiest of men at once.

***

Jaime started up out of a deep sleep, his mind racing and Bronn's words haunting him - *It mus' be like lookin' ina fuckin' mirrah*. It the midst of his love-making with Brienne, Jaime had thought it was hard to tell whose was what sometimes. Her hair was lighter than his, but not everywhere. She was as strong as he, as good a sword swinger as he had ever been. Their stride was close, when they walked together. Their swords were even forged out of the same metal - the Stark's ancestral greatsword Ice, as was. What was more, she knew him - his moods, his actions. The Battle of Winterfell had been terrifying, but also like a dance with each of them knowing their parts. And the sex - well, it couldn't be like that for everybody, could it?

Like a fucking mirror.

He lay back down, sweaty even in the slight chill of the room. But that was just it: Brienne was his better. She was a true knight, something his past would never let him become. Her influence made him a better man, he knew, but he wasn't sure he could be as brave and just and honorable as her, or as she would need him to be. In truth, part of him didn't want to be. There were many kinds of bravery, justice, and honor, and some could get you killed; he would never be able to be a man like Eddard Stark. The Lannister words should be 'Ruthless to a Fault,' not 'Hear Us Roar.' There was a bloody song written about just how vengeful his father could be.

His only comfort was what Bronn had said about the dragons. Even with the losses from the Long Night, two dragons certainly tipped the scales against his sister. He'd very nearly been roasted on the Roseroad by the Dragon Queen herself, but Bronn had saved him.

Bronn. The man saved his life, but Jaime knew that if he saw Bronn again before the end of the war he'd kill him where he stood. What kind of knight, what kind of brave, just, honorable knight does that?

"Jaime, stop it," Brienne murmured sleepily. "You're thinking so loud I can almost hear you." She rolled next him and pulled him to her front. "None of this is simple. We both need our rest to do what we can for the people we protect. For the people we love."

"Yes, ser," and this time he did manage sleep.