A/N: Jaime and Brienne thoughts born of dissatisfaction with what the writers gave us. After reading several other fanfics I see I'm not the only one to feel the same way, so possibly this won't be terribly original. Plus I haven't written anything in 20 years. As always GoT and the characters aren't mine, I'm just playing with them.
Brienne
There was no shame in retreat under certain circumstances, she thought feverishly. Brienne of Tarth blushed furiously as she beat a hasty exit from the too-hot and echoing feast hall. And surly no shame in being a virgin, she mused angrily. Quite the contrary in fact- for an unmarried noblewoman of her status to be otherwise would be a greater sin by far. What was mortifying was that that damned imp Tyrion considered her so much "one of the lads" that he felt free to comment on the subject of her proposed maidenhood in front of the entire population of Winterfell. And he was there to hear it. Brienne felt her face heating even more at the memory of Jaime Lannister's expression when Tyrion made his announcement to the whole damned table. Gritting her teeth, she continued her determined march down the darkened corridor towards her chambers, hearing the sound of merriment fading with the torchlight. It wasn't like it should be a surprise to anyone. After all, he himself had made the very same observation so many years ago when he had been her prisoner. Of course at the time he had been trying to provoke her, as cagey as a trapped lion using any weapon in his arsenal to shake her so he could catch her off her guard. And he had very nearly succeeded a few times. The Lannister brothers were really quite an observant pair, it occurred to her. This time he at least had the decency to looked abashed at his brothers comment, and was chivalrous enough to try to deflect the line of questioning when Tyrion refused to drop it. What had happened after, her awkward attempt to flee, Tormund's arrival to top off an already excruciating couple of seconds had passed in a blur. It was a relief that she now found herself blessedly alone with her humiliation in the dark hallway.
Brienne finally reached her chamber and shut the door firmly behind her, resting her back against it as she tried to steady her breathing and calm her rattled sensibilities . The room was warm and glowing from the fire she kept constantly lit, and the howl of the cold northern wind outside her windows was a reminder of all the darkness she had come through safely over the last 48hours. Quietly, she lit her candles and removed her swordbelt, boots, and the outer layers of her clothing. Relaxing finally, Brienne allowed herself an uncommon moment of self pity. After the three failed engagements arranged by her long- suffering father, and the hopelessly unrequited love she had born for Renly Baratheon, she had resigned herself to never experiencing physical love. And yet here she was a young woman still, and tonight it seemed a lonely fate that she could so easily have died without ever knowing another's touch.
It was a fact that she had had opportunities in the past. Observant Jaime had been correct in that there were boys out there who liked a challenge. Yes, two or three had tried with her, maybe a few more than two or three, truth be told. And yes, damn him, he had seen with unerring clarity into her innermost heart that there remained a part of her that longed to feel like a woman, a lady, someone to be cherished and adored. Maybe even to be dominated, she darkly admitted to herself, if only for a moment. How did he do that, see through her so very clearly? Had she wanted to she could have lain with some random someone, just to know what it felt like. But to be seen by her first lover only as a challenge or a novelty hadn't yet been enough to tempt her.
Brienne sighed and threw more wood on the fire. No doubt the celebration continued without her in the feast hall; what had started out a solemn tribute to the fallen souls who's ashes were still being carried away by the freezing wind had quickly turned into a riotous celebration of those living who remained. Brienne could feel as the heaviness of the occasion lifted; people feasted and drank to excess; two by two couples stole away from the gathering to celebrate being alive in private. She herself had become mellow with more wine than she was accustomed to, lulled into contentment by the camaraderie of those who surrounded her. There was Pod faithfully at her side, and then there was them, the two Lannister brothers sitting across from her, as dissimilar in looks as it was possible for brothers to be. And yet both were clever and lively conversationalists and she had found herself smiling and drinking more than she had in the last year. Tyrion had started the game, which to begin with she quite enjoyed. Tyrion plied her with more and more wine, but when she had covered her goblet to stop him pouring it was Jaime who took her hand in his warm and calloused left to move it aside. Her head spun, and she realized it wasn't wine alone that was making her flush.
She pictured him now in her minds eye, so ridiculously handsome it made her head hurt- even his one remaining hand was beautiful. Indeed, age and scruffiness had only improved him. It wasn't fair for a man to be so blessed in his looks, when she, a woman, was left feeling huge and graceless and awkward. His behavior towards her since arriving in Winterfell had been confusing also, to say the least. She had grown accustomed to Tormund following her about like a lost direwolf pup, but it seemed strange to her that now she couldn't seem to turn around without tripping over Jaime Lannister. He was nice to her in a way he had never been before, gentlemanly and respectful as a Knight should be to a lady, rather than as one soldier to another. And then on the eve before the battle it had been he who had knighted her, looking past her gruff indifferent denial of even wanting to be a knight and seeing accurately what it was she truly longed for. The respect and acknowledgement of her peers felt good, but that it was he who formalized her well-earned recognition felt like something more. How did he do that? she wondered again. And why did he bother?
The lonely howl of the wind outside drew her back to the present. She wouldn't think on it anymore, she decided. One hopelessly unrequited love in her past already was enough pain for a lifetime. Like Renly, Jaime Lannister didn't love her or want her, he was just being kind. That he wasn't a man especially noted for kindness was something she wouldn't wonder about either. Perhaps he was ill, then? Brienne shrugged mentally. Whatever the case may be, she would force it out of mind just as she did so many other things.
Someone was knocking on her door, Brienne realized with a start, two knocks, then three more. Dear Gods, she thought, was she going to have to thrash that damned wilding before this night was over? Assuming her most thunderous expression, she strode to the door and yanked it open, thoroughly prepared to toss the persistent Tormund on his ass right there in the hallway. She wasn't prepared at all for what she found: Jaime Lannister standing rather unsteadily on her threshold, wine flagon and goblets in hand. Taking her glowering countenance in with a glance, he simply barged past her into her room. "You didn't drink." Was the only comment he offered as greeting.