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“Just for a month,” Jaime explains, hoping she’ll agree. “For as long as my mother stays with us.” They’re no longer an ‘us’, but his mother, in her last days, need not be subjected to the nasty details of their on-going divorce proceedings. “A favour, Brienne.”
His soon-to-be ex-wife gives his request a consideration. “Fine,” she says. “But this will change nothing between us.”
Jaime looks away from the woman he still can’t stop thinking about, and sighs. “Of course.” If only life could be led with love alone! She had kissed him and taken his hand at the altar, but things will never be the same between them. The crack that had begun when Renly had first come to visit her is not that minor anymore. It’s a gulf that can’t be bridged.
She stares at nothing in particular, deep in thought. Jaime can guess what’s going on in her mind. They’ve shared nothing for a while, and they’d be sharing a roof again after a long time. A bedroom. He can see the discomfort in Brienne’s eyes. “I’ll sleep on the floor and you can take the bed,” he offers. “That way you won’t have to—”
“That won’t be necessary.”
She’s gone before he can reply, and Jaime is left mulling over their conversation and what the next few days will be like.
If only he could ease this ache in his chest…
+++++
His mother smiles appreciatively at him. “Brienne's the perfect woman for you. You’ve chosen well.”
Every word of hers feels like a pebble hurled at his chest. “You don’t get to choose who you love. She just—” He recalls how he met her. How they’d jumped straight into animosity. And how that slowly overturned to feelings stronger than he’d ever felt before. “She just happened to me.”
And soon she will be gone.
“You hold on to her, son,” says his mother, clasping his hand.
He can’t lie to her. He can’t let her see the truth. Jaime turns away from her eyes.
If only he could put an end to this game right now and get as far away as he can from Brienne…
+++++
Brienne still carries that sword around with the same fondness. She swings it like the champion she’s always been.
“You’re still pretty good,” Jaime admires, watching her practice. “But only pretty good,” he teases, like he used to in better days. “You could do with a little sharpening.”
She pauses to frown at him. “Still overconfident, aren’t you? You know I can overpower you and fling you down at the blink of an eye!”
“I’d love to see you try,” he suggests. “I’ve been up to some rigorous training. I’m strong enough.” There have been nights she has done that in the privacy of their bedroom. Those nights have been some of the most colorful of his life. He can still feel the remnants of the flames she’d kindled in his body. “Up for a challenge, wench?”
Her eyes light up; she’s tempted. But when a blush creeps up her neck, she puts the weapon away. “I should leave.”
She hurries out of the room, and he’s left behind, grappling with something he can’t handle. If only his past wouldn’t return to him like this. If only he could stop lusting after her…
+++++
“Something’s wrong,” his mother tells him, out of the blue one morning. “I can see it in her eyes.”
Jaime knows he’s in a soup. To admit she’s right would lead him to come out with the entire truth. To dismiss it would be impossible. He decides to take the middle ground. “We had an argument last night.” That would not entirely be a lie, and he wouldn’t be giving it all away either. “She’s still angry.”
“She loves you,” his mother consoles him. “I can see it in her eyes. Don’t let such petty things drive a rift between you.”
She has obviously misread. And Jaime can neither correct her nor agree with her.
“Take her on a date tonight,” she suggests, lingering in her illusion. “Someplace romantic.”
Jaime keeps quiet, unable to agree nor able to shrug off the idea. Dinner, as a formality, he could definitely put up with. But what is the point of it when they’ll both walk their separate ways in weeks from now?
If only he could stop wishing his days with Brienne weren’t numbered.
+++++
Never has a date been this strained before. They sit there in silence, sipping their drinks. What could he possibly talk of that wouldn’t make her uncomfortable?
“Blue is a good color on you,” he begins, without thinking. “Goes well with your eyes.”
Chest in a knot, he waits when her eyes widen. The load is off him when she smiles. “You always used to say that,” she playfully recalls. “A strange guy, you were. First taunts and insults and then—” The spark in her eyes dies away when she realizes the current status of their relationship.
“I meant it,” he whispers. “You are beautiful.”
“And you’re a liar,” she whispers back, like she always did whenever he paid her a compliment, “who has a way with words.”
She was once his beauty. But that was once upon a time, long long ago. If only those moments would stop haunting him.
If only he could stop admiring her pretty eyes…
+++++
His mother waits until Brienne is out of earshot. “Did it go well?”
“I suppose so.”
“Have you two reconciled?”
Jaime answers with a short nod, then turns towards his bedroom.
“After your obsession with Cersei, I never thought you’d fall in love,” his mother calls when he’s at the door. “Don’t give her up, Jaime.” He grips the doorknob. “You’re perfect for each other.”
That’s what he too once thought. But it was not to be. He did fall for Brienne. Deeply. Passionately. And she had loved him too. But now, it's all over. All that was part of a glorious past: years he could have done without.
If only he had never met her…
+++++
“No!”
He wakes up to find her sitting in the darkness, shaking fingers covering her face.
“Brienne—” He flicks the light switch on. “It was just a dream.”
She reveals her face, a frightened look in her eyes. “It was Locke and his men all over again.” Her tone is blank, hollow, as though she’s been through that hell all over again. “I was captured and bound to that tree, and those—” Her voice, like her shoulders, shivers. “They were attacking me and—”
“You’re safe now. You made it out of there that night,” he says like he always did, though he knows that's not be enough to destroy her recurring nightmare.
Her lips part when he lays a hand on her shoulder. She’s trembling like a leaf. “Thanks to you.” Her hand is on his chest, shaking fingers ghosting the scar that fateful night had left him with. “You risked your life for me.”
Like he always used to whenever she was jolted by this awful dream, Jaime takes her in his arms. “No regrets at all,” he says, patting her hair. He holds her close, his mind racing away as her heart eases against it. No regrets is an understatement. He’d take ten bullets for her.
When she withdraws from his embrace, he’s cruelly reminded that that’s not an option anymore. He aches to hold her again. To touch her. To caress her hair and keep her safe in his arms.
If only he could stop yearning for this soft intimacy with her…
+++++
“I tried to find out from her,” says his mom. “Subtly, of course,” she adds, when he opens his mouth, worried.
“Not sure what you mean by that.” But it’s not difficult to guess. His mother has taken it upon herself to ensure things are rosy between him and Brienne before she — No, he’d rather not think about that.
“She loves you too much to let go of you.”
Jaime knows Brienne is only trying to make it look true to indulge a dying old woman. Anything beyond that is an unreasonable expectation.
If only he could get over her…
+++++
“It’s just a fever,” he complains, when she sits down beside him with a wet towel. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need you to fuss over it.”
“Just lie still and stop putting up a fight.” Brienne begins mopping his forehead like she always did whenever he was struck by the virus. “A hundred-and-two is not a thing to be taken lightly.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Lie down and let me do my job.”
Jaime gives up. He knows better than to resist. Brienne can be quite stubborn when she wants to.
“Remember the last time you were struck by a bout like this?” She wets the towel again and places it on his damp skin. “The temperature just kept shooting up. You were in bad shape. You were shivering and mumbling and the fever wouldn’t break—” Her voice seems to have hit some obstruction and she stops. “I can’t let you suffer like that again.”
She’s concerned, but that doesn’t mean the affection is back. She cares for him, but that doesn’t mean she’s still in love with him. She goes on with her attempt to relieve him, but he knows she won’t be here to tend to him the next time he falls ill.
“You better get some sleep,” he insists. “And I’d better get used to attending to my own needs.”
If only he could achieve that with a flick of his fingers…
If only he could get used to life without her…
+++++
“How about a duel?” he asks, when she’s swinging her sword around in their bedroom.
“How about you aim to stay on your two feet?” she teases, putting the blade away.
“I’m serious.” Why is his voice this low and deep? And why does he want more than a friendly match?
“You have a history of losing to me in every sport possible.” Her eyes are set into his. Before he can stop himself, he moves towards her, and she too steps closer. “Swordplay, shooting, boxing—”
“But not wrestling.”
He makes the first move, lunging at her, surprising her. She backs away, unprepared, but trips, unfortunately, on a tear in the carpet. When she loses her balance and stumbles backward, he has her in his arms and, within no time, pinned to the wall in helpless defeat.
“I told you,” he says, voice hoarser, mind full of filth his body craves more than anything for. “I’m strong enough.”
Unbidden, his mind races further, deeper into memories of the numerous colorful nights that had begun like this. He can, not only remember, but feel her full lips moving against his. Her gorgeous naked body against his, writhing and panting. Her breasts pushing up against his hard muscles, those pert nipples buried in his chest hair.
“Jaime.” It’s a hushed whisper. Almost a sigh. Is she too in the same boat as him? His heart picks up pace. Does she want this too? “That was not wrestling,” she chides him. “It was cheating.” Damn his overthinking mind for misunderstanding her reaction! “You attacked before we could properly begin.”
He shuts his eyes to calm himself down. After a deep breath, he lets her go. Those nights would never come back.
If only his body would stop craving hers…
+++++
Time flies faster than it should. His mother’s stay is almost coming to an end.
Brienne keeps her promise and does her best. She’s the ideal daughter-in-law; the friendliest companion a lonely old woman could ask for. Jaime can’t help watching from a distance as the two women bond.
If only his mind would stop wishing for this to be real…
+++++
“Don’t make the mistake your father and I made,” his mother says when she’s about to leave. “Tywin and I loved each other very dearly. Unfortunately, misunderstandings crept in and we drifted apart. And by the time we could reconcile—” She wipes a tear off her cheek. “It was too late. He was gone.”
Brienne rushes to comfort her. “Joanna—”
“He loves you,” his mother tells Brienne with all earnestness. Then she meets his eyes. “And she loves you no less, Jaime.” She smiles at the two of them. “Make sure you both let each other know that often.”
That is not something either of them can do, so there’s no point thinking about it.
If only he could love her less…
+++++
“You’ve started to pack already,” he notices with a pang.
Brienne pauses from stuffing her clothes into her suitcase. “Now that your mom has gone back home, I’d better leave right away.”
He watches her resume her task with vigor. “This late in the night?”
“Yeah, better now than later.”
“Mom was wrong about you,” he snaps, her words the trigger. “You can’t wait to get away from me.” He might regret ending this with an argument, but he can’t let her go without getting this off his chest.
She stops her work, her eyes accusing. “And what about you? You were the one who got bored of me and cheated on me with Cersei.”
“I didn’t.” He was drunk that night. And stupid. But the moment he reached Cersei’s place, he knew what a blunder that was. “I didn’t stay the night with her. I went to Tyrion’s.”
She blinks, her brows creasing as she processes this information. “Then why didn’t you tell me? Why did you come back the next morning and start an argument all over again?”
“I returned, ready to apologize and make amends. But jealousy took over when I saw Renly at our place the next morning.” He’s ashamed of every word he spoke. “I was possessed by rage.”
She shakes her head, eyes hurt. “You never stopped suspecting that Renly and I had something going on between us.” Her voice grows smaller, her tone sad rather than accusing. “I’ve told you many times that we were done for good, and yet you didn’t trust me.”
“You kept meeting him after that.”
“Yes, because he’s a friend,” she explains, wary. “When were you ever going to understand that?”
Yes, he should’ve taken her word and left it where it should have lain, but unfortunately good sense was beaten by negative emotions. But the time he’d regretted his behaviour, it was too late. The matter had precipitated to a point of no return. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, for what it’s worth. “I was an idiot that morning. I should’ve thought with a clear head.” He did think of it many times after that, but jealousy always prevailed, clouding his thinking, preventing him from believing her.
“Yes, you were an idiot,” she scolds. “If only you didn’t let me think you’re still in love with Cersei—” Her eyes are brighter than usual. “Your mom was right. I—” She looks like she’s been bursting to say something for a while. “Every day without you was hell. Every minute, thinking that you were in Cersei’s arms was a punishment—”
“Brienne—”
“Miserable.” There’s a deep pain in the gentleness of her tone. “That’s what life without you has been.”
“Brienne—”
“If only I could love you less, Jaime,” she laments, just like he has been to himself. “If I could do that, I could do without you. But I can’t. No matter how hard I try—”
He kisses her, ending their agony. She throws her arms around his neck and falls into his embrace, a sigh flowing from her to him. Her lips part, urging him to take it further, and when he deepens the kiss, her hand is in his hair, her longing on his lips.
When this brief but torridly intimate moment is over, he sees it in her eyes. She yearns for him, as much as he does for her.
“I don’t want us to make the same mistake again,” he whispers.
“Neither do I,” she whispers back.
They’re clumsy, nearly as bad as youngsters doing this for the first time, when they attempt to undress each other, each starving for a touch, for the familiar intimacy they’ve missed for months. And when, after months of empty beds and heavy pining, there’s nothing to hide between them, the need flares up, raw and blatant. He tastes her mouth, and dives in deeper, insatiable. He pulls back, then kisses her again, harsh and rough, wildly, as if he’d die if he didn’t. “Brienne—”
“Yes,” she sighs, that one word so nakedly needy, so desperate. “I’ve waited enough.”
“You’re beautiful,” he says, when she gets on the bed.
“And you’re a liar,” she replies as usual, when he joins her, “who has a way with words.”
When they kiss again, they’re two people who can’t have enough of each other, just like any other couple deeply and passionately in love. When he lies with her, he realizes how badly he has missed her. “I love you,” he says, with a sloppy, wet kiss to her throat. “I’ve loved you every minute of every day since the first time I realized it.” He breathes into her earlobe and enjoys her twitch. He brushes his lips to the corner of her mouth and relishes the way she closes her eyes in anticipation. He kisses down to her breasts and stays there to feel her heartbeat, and when her breath ignites at his touch, he’s ready to be reduced to ashes.
“I love you too,” she whispers, fingers ruffling through his hair. He looks up from her chest, and deep in her eyes. “There can never be another man,” she says, and he seals her lips with his. She wraps him in an intimate embrace as they kiss on, her lips forming the word, “Jaime,” on his, without words telling him how badly she wants him.
He breathes down her freckled skin, enjoying every goosebump on his way. He traces the mound of her breasts: he knows every curve and every blemish. He buries his face in her chest again. She jerks when he licks a drop of sweat clinging to a nipple. Then she falls back, pushing her tits against his face, her hips rolling against his hard cock while his mouth keeps up its good work. He tugs at her nipple, trapping it, running his teeth lightly across it. He can feel her whole being on the brink of an explosion when she rubs against him, shifting her hips and slowly, sensuously, grinding against his crotch.
“Be mine again, my darling,” he says, the words a strained whisper when she thrusts her hips forth.
“Yes.”
He can sense it in that one word. He can feel her need. He can feel the lust that’s taking her apart when he kisses down the delightful path to her cunt.
“Jaime…”
She tugs at his hair when he takes a whiff of her arousal.
His tongue is in need of all of her, seeking to taste; to explore. He lays the tip of it to her swollen clit. She shivers at first touch; moans deeply when he laps up the gush of rich warmth she treats the edge of his tongue to. He licks and sucks and she writhes. He can feel her breathing hitch when her fingers curl around his neck and she pushes him against her thighs, taking more of his tongue. He slows down, placing a lingering kiss on her folds, but impatient, she digs her fingers into his hair, drawing him further into her. She guides him and he gives her what she needs. His cock grows stiffer as feasts on her arousal, her desire spreading through his whole body as he takes charge of her pleasure.
“Yes,” she mumbles, when he devours what she leaves him with. “Gods, yes!”
She’s shaking. He is the reason for it. It will always be him. Not Renly. Not anyone else. Her gasps tell him how good he’s making her feel. Her quaking thighs tell him she needs to get there at once. He slid a finger in, moving it in that would send her tumbling down the slope. She whimpers when he plays with her. Curses when he teases her, refusing to let her come.
He drives her crazy with his mouth. And she needs more of it. She takes it all until she no longer can, her legs clutching his neck and then shuddering to a wonderful climax.
He laps up her juices with relish, then moves up her body and kisses her deeply, giving her a taste of her pleasure. He pauses; their eyes meet. Her hand’s between them. He’s hard as a rock in her touch.
“Your cock,” she demands, guiding him to where she’s burning.
He teases her entrance and pulls out, not giving in just as yet.
“Jaime!”
Oh, how he has missed her uttering his name like that! He enters her, gently penetrating her, going deeper when she grabs him by the neck and pulls him into a kiss. He pushes in, inch by inch. He can feel her walls stretch as she takes him in, deeper and deeper with every twist of her hips.
“Yes,” she sighs, when he begins to move. “Fuck, I need more.”
He starts out steady, then rides her hard and fast. He pins her mouth with his, their kisses harsh and fiery. He’s buried in her, lost in her soft warmth as they move as two lovers who should never have been parted.
“Oh yes,” she moans, thirst dripping from her words, when he sucks and licks her firm breasts, provoking those nipples to pearly buds.
He rushes to quench it, and she describes, in words filthy and unbearably sexy, what she wants him to do to her, her muffled gasps of “Jaime” leaving her need naked before him. He presses a finger on her clit. She yelps, thighs crushing him, her lips crushing his. He plunges deep, drunk in her. She lifts her hips, hungry for more of him. Their pace quickens, hurtling towards an upward rush, and they fall wildly in step with each other, racing forth to get to the end together. She’s panting. She jerks up against him, and when he pushes that finger against her, she dissolves into a burst of spasms.
When she can breathe, she covers his mouth with a clumsy kiss. “Jaime, I want you to—” She stops, but her eyes lay out her demand for him.
He rushes into a frantic chase for his release. He’s hot in pursuit, all taut and sensitive and ready to burst. Something inside him tightens. With the next deep thrust, he gives it all he has, the blood in his veins pounding as he blazes down the rest of this hectic journey to be with her.
“Fuck, Brienne.”
He gives in to the calloused hand gliding down his back, her touch edging him towards it. He succumbs to the soft ‘oh, Jaime’ he can feel in his ear.
He collapses in her arms, spent and sweating. He stays with her, deep inside her until he softens. Until he can move past lust to something deeper. “I want you back in my life, Brienne,” he breathes softly into her neck. “All these days I tried to wish it away, and—” He looks up at her. “For the first time I’m happy my wish didn’t come true.”
“I had my reservations when we were forced together.” Brienne smiles and pulls him for a kiss. “But I’m glad I agreed. We should thank your mother for this.”
“I love you,” he tells her again, and takes her in an embrace. They had been together for years, but things between them were understood. Felt, rather than spoken of. Neither of them had expressed it in such explicit words, and more than once in the same night.
“I love you, too,” she whispers in his ear.
Wrapped in the warmth of bliss, they hold each other. His mother is right. It needs to be said every now and then.