Chapter Text
It was warm. The fire merrily crackled in fireplaces, its orange flames gently illuminated the great Winterfell hall, sending pleasurable waves of heat everyone have longed for so long while being stuck outside in snow and blizzards, under the chilling breath of death lurking in the darkness.
Brienne involuntarily shuddered at the memory of bright blue eyes and rigid hands whose strong grip could freeze the flesh to the bones even through the countless layers of worn furs and fabrics. It was over, she tried to tell herself again and again. It was over. The dead were defeated, yet the thought brought more pain and guilt to her heart contrary to joy and relief that seemed to overflow the people gathered in the hall. Watching the dances, hearing the lively conversations mixed with bursts of laughter and singing songs, no one would ever suspect that those were the same people who a few days ago were fighting corpses of their fallen comrades, friends and loved ones and then burning their motionless bodies on great pyres disappearing behind the spirals of acrid smoke.
How could they forget so easily? Brienne envied and resented them at the same time. The image of Pod’s thin body rising from the snow forever imprinted in her soul. She stood there with Oathkeeper in her hand, unable to move, the guilt of failing him weighing down her sword. I'm so sorry, it should have been me, she wanted to say as he closed the distance to get her. And he would have, Brienne wouldn't even budge, had Jaime not…
She looked up from her mug full of watered yet still bitter ale and scanned the room. He was there, on the opposite side, engaged in conversation with the few westerners that answered his call, came North and survived. It was the first time Brienne had a chance to look at him properly since the darkness retreated. Before that, there were only indistinct forms and shadows hiding his features sharpened by the fierceness of the winter, golden hair showered with snowy strands and burning green eyes.
Jaime, she bit her lip to prevent his name from falling from her mouth but he must have felt the silent cry of her heart because the next moment his heated gaze met her eyes. There was no smile on his lips when he stared at her across the hall. Why would there be? Brienne forced herself to look down on her hands clenched tightly around the mug. In the darkness, she could have been a beautiful maid or even a queen. Now she was the ugly wench again. Jaime must have realised that as well. And now he is ashamed of his weakness.
For the last few days, they barely saw each other. There was no more fighting back to back, covering for each other. There were no more quiet meals eaten together in the dark corner of the great hall. There was no more silent agreement to retreat together into her room and help each other with the hard and freezing plates of armour. No more they slipped together fully clothed under the thick layers of furs and Jaime was taking her into his embrace, pressing her back tightly to his chest. No more she felt his quickened hot breath on her neck and his only hand exploring the underneath of her clothes until lowering down her breeches just enough to slowly enter her from behind and…
“Are you well, wench?” Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted as Jaime took a seat on a bench beside her. “Aren’t you too close to the fire? Not so long ago you were turning into a block of ice and right now, you're burning.”
Brienne gasped as his hand casually touched her forehead and slid down to her cheek, sending a new wave of heat to her face.
It’s you, not the fire, she jerked away from his touch, scanning the surroundings in fear that someone could have seen that.
“I’m alright, Ser. No need for such concern.”
“As you say.” Jaime shrugged, refusing to engage in any further conversation with her so they sat in silence, suddenly tense and awkward like between two strangers forced to spend their time in each other's company, not knowing what to say or how to act. Brienne discreetly shot him a look.
A deep frown on Jaime’s face shadowed the sparks in his bright eyes and the way curled his lips into a smile before saying something outrageous with the intention to provoke her. Brienne has never thought she would miss the witty jokes and biting remarks she hated so much at the start of their journey.
“The music is playing,” Jaime casually broke the silence. He didn’t look at her as his gaze was following the pairs dancing in the other corner of the hall.
“Yes, it is. There is not much celebration without music,” Brienne remarked dryly.
At once she felt his eyes scanning her face and she turned her head away, pretending not to notice the way he rubbed the place where his wrist was connected to the golden hand.
“Since we established that, it will only be appropriate to ask you for a dance, my lady.”
My lady, her heart clenched. Not Brienne he once whispered in her ear, being buried deep inside her.
“I don’t dance.” Her answer was firm. Why was he doing it? Surely Jaime didn’t want to dance with her, while there were so many other women, sighing and eying him the whole evening in the hope to attract his attention.
“Then I must have misheard the tale of dear dead Renly dancing with one tall homely wench.”
“He did a kindness to me, no matter if it was sincere or not. You don’t have to do the same.”
“You know me for so long and still didn’t grasp that I’m not kind?”
You are. If there could be one thing to be certain about in this world, it would be the fact that despite his horrible deeds, there was kindness in Jaime. Brienne knew it like no one else did. It was Jaime who saved her from rape. It was Jaime who came back for her and jumped into the bear pit to protect her. It was Jaime who gifted her with a priceless sword so she could keep their oath. It was Jaime, who dropped everything and followed her into his doom and it was him who took care of her wounds afterwards. It was Jaime who went north with her and fought beside her. It was Jaime who comforted her after Pod’s death. It was him who made her feel like a woman, desired and wanted, even if only in darkness. Yet even after all that, for some unfathomable reason, he always insisted there was no kindness in him.
“I’d like to dance with you.” Jaime shrugged when she failed to come up with an answer. “Humour me.”
There was his extended hand, waiting for her decision. It might be the last I ever receive from him, the thought was a thorn in her heart but it was enough for her hand to reach for him. If it was the last chance to be close to him, to feel the calloused skin of his hand against her, the taut muscles of his arm under her fingers and the masculine scent that was his and only his, who would she be to refuse all this?
They entered between the couples and Jaime immediately pulled her against him, his left hand holding her right and golden one resting on her waist, leaving almost no space between their bodies.
“Not so bad so far,” Jaime said, making a step forward, catching her unprepared to take a step back. Their chest bumped together eliciting a horrified gasp from her and a merry chuckle from him.
“I’m sorry… I- I don’t know the steps,” Brienne mumbled, feeling her cheeks getting hot from embarrassment again. Of course, she knew the steps. She was thought well even if no one ever believed she would ever have the opportunity to use that knowledge.
Brienne tried to retreat but Jaime’s hand on her back held her in place, tightly pressed to him.
“At this point, I don’t know the steps either,” he said, still smiling but in a way that she has never seen before. Not an arrogant smile not cutting or sly. This one was gentle like the lightest summer breeze. This one was making her heart flutter in her chest and he must have felt it. There was no way he hadn't as there was nothing between them but two layers of tunics.
They swayed slowly without the rhythm as the all songs mixed into incomprehensible one, their bodies flushed together, highly aware of every move of the other side just like they had been in the battle. Brienne tried to memorise the sensation of Jaime’s arm wrapped around her, possessively holding her close to him like she was something precious, like he would never let her go.
“I’m glad the light and fire returned to us,” Jaime said and all the words evaporated from her mind at the sight of his smile.
She nodded curtly, lowering her eyes.
“The war is over,” Jaime continued, leaning closer. She could almost feel his lips brushing her earlobe. “What do you choose to do next?”
What’s next? The question that tormented her for the last few days.
“I will need to return home. To whatever that is left of it.”
“And then?”
“I don’t know.” The prospect of the future filled her with dread. There was no news of Tarth since that one message that caught them on their road to Vale. Tarth has fallen. Nothing more. Brienne had only hoped that her father survived and was somewhere safe. She needed to find him when all of it was over and to hope that he would take her back, scarred and spoiled as she was.
“And you, Ser? I suppose you don't plan to stay North.”
“And you are right, Wench. I've got enough of cold, snow and general dreadfulness for the rest of my life.”
“Casterly Rock then?”
“Most likely,” Jaime said, his eyes never leaving her face, gentle but nevertheless observing. “Unless my lady wife chooses another place more to her liking.”
“Your wife?” The words hit her harder than a morningstar ever could.
“Not quite yet. I need to ask her first.” Brienne rather felt than saw mischief lighting up his green eyes and a sly smile tugging his lips. “What answer will I get, what do you think, Wench?”
“I’m sure she agrees,” she said in a small voice. Who wouldn't? Any lady would be lucky to have him. And one lady will. One lady will become his and she will call him hers. She will be beautiful and graceful, with small delicate hands that would touch him in a way her big and rough hands were never allowed. She will have a lovely face which Jaime would like to see while claiming her and her feminine body will fit perfectly under his like Brienne’s never had. She will give him heirs while Brienne will be forced to get rid of any child they could have created in their recklessness. She will be his lady and maybe she will grow to love him. Jaime deserved that. To be loved by someone who he could love in return.
There was nothing more said between them after that. Or maybe there was, Brienne couldn’t tell. The music gradually faded and the people in the hall started slowly retreating to their chambers.
Brienne gently freed herself from Jaime’s hold.
“I think it’s time to take my leave,” she said, not quite looking at him.
“Let me walk you to your chamber,” he offered. Another kindness. It was too much. She wouldn’t be able to bear him leaving her alone at the door, not wanting to come inside. Or worse, taking her one last time before leaving to marry another woman.
“Thank you, Ser, but I know the way,” Brienne said, turning her back on Jaime before he could insist.