Jaime awoke with a start as Podrick clattered through the door of Brienne's chamber, clutching her armour to his chest and trying not to drop it. "I cleaned and polished my lady's armour, my lord," he said. "Her sword, too. I hope she won't mind. I used to try and offer to tend to it like I do her other things, but she's always insisted that only she touches it."
Eyes still bleary from sleep, he gave Podrick a smile he hoped was reassuring. "Good lad, Pod," said Jaime. "I'm sure she'll be glad to know you've taken good care of it while she hasn't been able to."
Jaime had stayed at Brienne's bedside ever since Sandor Clegane had carried her back to Winterfell and Maester Wolkan had tended to the injuries she had sustained during their most recent battle with the army of the dead, only leaving her when he had to be present for meetings. In the end, he had missed so many meals that in exasperation, Sansa had arranged for the cooks to send food to Brienne's chamber so that Jaime didn't have to leave her side to eat.
He shuddered, remembering how they had been fighting side by side when they were suddenly overcome by dozens of wights and been separated. Jaime had lost sight of her, and had desperately hacked his way through living dead thing after living dead thing, trying to find her again.
When he next saw her, she had been struggling to stand, her cheek looking as if it had been gouged into.
Now, Brienne lay asleep, her cheek heavily bandaged. Maester Wolkan had assured Jaime that none of her injuries would be fatal, but nonetheless, his thoughts and dreams frequently ventured into dark places.
Pulling himself up from his slumped position in the hard wooden chair he was sitting in, Jaime rubbed his neck and stretched his back, attempting to alleviate the stiffness that had set in while he'd slept. Meanwhile, Pod carefully laid out Brienne's armour on the floor along the wall opposite her bed, and propped Oathkeeper against the wall in the corner of the room.
Pod stared helplessly at Brienne's unconscious form for a long moment before bowing his head, mumbling "my lord", and making a hurried exit. Tyrion had told Jaime that Pod hadn't seemed to know what do with himself since he had returned to Winterfell with Brienne. Jaime felt a pang of sympathy for him. He had obviously grown fond of Brienne during his time as her squire, and it had warmed Jaime's heart to see his respect and admiration for her.
Now alone with Brienne, he reached out to lightly stroke her hand, fingertips drifting up her arm, and eventually making their way to her forehead, gently pushing her hair back from her face where it had fallen in soft waves, so different to the severe style she habitually kept it in to ensure it stayed out of her way.
Jaime pulled his hand back quickly as Brienne's pale eyelashes began to flutter. She gave him a weak smile when her beautiful blue eyes found him. "Jaime."
"Brienne," he replied. He took a deep, unsteady breath. "I'm glad you're awake. You're sleeping so often and so long that I worry for you."
She said nothing, but Jaime thought he saw her chin tremble and her eyes grow shiny in the dim firelight. Abruptly, Jaime went to stand up. "I should go and find Maester Wolkan and inform him that you've woken."
Brienne looked hurt. "Stay with me for a little while, first?" she said, suddenly sounding very young and very vulnerable.
"Of course," he said softly, settling back down into his chair.
Brienne took his hand, running her thumb over his knuckles, and Jaime wondered for just how long she had been awake.
Some time later, when Maester Wolkan returned to check Brienne's wounds, he found them both asleep, still holding hands, Jaime kneeling on the floor with his cheek resting on the edge of the bed.