Jaime noticed the change in Brienne on the way to find Sandor Clegane and Sansa Stark rather quickly. The ugly scars on her face were still healing and made her look even worse than she already did, Jaime didn't know that was possible until the moment he saw her after her attack. From the looks of it she wasn't happy about it either. It seemed like she could handle all the jeers at her appearance but this was the one thing that could make her feel sorry for herself. She had scars but never so noticeable. Jaime could point out all the problems with her looks but he would never think of her appearance as being too concerning to him. He learnt to appreciate her for her actions and personality rather than such shallow issues. He wouldn't sit there and say he never thought she wasn't much without a pretty face, to him she was just a delusional, stubborn, ugly wench when he first met her. He began to notice the sapphire of her eyes and the honour she held to her name, it was a shame that nobody saw what he did. Now, he wondered how much grief she'd take for the bite on her face.
"Wench. You should rest." Jaime told her. The truth was he just wanted to rest himself and knew Podrick did too. The poor boy was barely keeping upright he was so tired.
The wench never rests when she's thinking too much about something he thought. Anybody would think Jaime stuttered with the way Brienne ignored him. Not even his jests made her shout at him or furrow her eyebrows. Not even a twitch. She'd ignored her needs and in turn meant everybody else was ignored. Lady Stoneheart may not have killed her but she had certainly killed the old Brienne.
"Brienne. Podrick will fall off his damn horse if we keep moving, it's getting dark and we haven't stopped once in days for some proper rest."
"We have to keep moving, Sansa cannot stay long with the Hound."
"I'm sure she's not in any immediate danger. Right now we must worry about sleep. I'm getting rather tired myself. Surely you must feel like resting your stubborn head." His voice was full of frustration. He could see the thought on her face. When she saw Podrick lulling his head forward and having to wake himself up she finally caved him and announced they would stop for the night. Sometimes Jaime couldn't understand the woman, hell, he barely understood most women but she was something else.
"Once we complete this oath we'll only have to worry about the future." Jaime assured her.
"Jaime… I want to believe you, I really do. There's bound to be something from the past to haunt me, I mean look at me. My face, it's even worse than it was before."
"Seven hells, woman! Would you stop your constant melodramatic thinking?" Jaime snapped. Brienne's face contorted into shock. He was angry and disappointed with Brienne. He remembered the night when his right hand was missing from his wrist, the pain of losing his livelihood was overwhelming. If he had the choice, he would've had the bastards kill him. He imagined his sweet sister and the shock of her brother returning to her without his hand. Brienne, however, wouldn't have him wallow in self-pity. You sound like a bloody woman she said to him.
When she said that he pulled himself out of the pain he felt. Instead he wanted to let out his anger on the wench for insulting him in such a way but also wanted to thank her for giving him the kick in the arse he needed so desperately. She thanked him for the sacrifice. A hand for her maidenhead. It was an unwilling sacrifice, at the time if he had to make the choice of keeping his hand or letting the wench be taken by force he would've chosen the most selfish option but now if he could go back with his knowledge of the wench, out of the two choices he wouldn't skip a beat when he shouted proudly 'Hand!'. That didn't mean he didn't miss the real flesh of his hand.
Right now was the moment for Brienne to have that kick in the arse she needed desperately. From the look on her face it was working. Jaime only continued to let out his frustrations.
"Where's that wench I knew? The one that would gladly kick me in the ribs if she had the chance? The one that glared at me and held her head as high as the bloody clouds above? You're acting like you lost your beloved sword hand." Brienne looked straight to the elegant gold that only gleamed in the light of the fire. "You've only been made uglier, you've dealt with being called ugly before, for being a brute of a woman. If they even think you're a woman that is. So what? What's so fucking special now?" Jaime spat. Brienne felt like glaring at him but only knew there was no point, he was right after all. "The wench I know wouldn't care. She would knock them to the ground and would go on. You're not her, you're not my Brienne."
My Brienne, it seemed like such a right thing to say. Jaime saw a glimmer in the sapphire eyes across from him. Emeralds and sapphires met in a strong gaze. The sapphires were the first to pull away, they showed the emeralds their acceptance. Jaime certainly gave her the kick in the arse he'd hoped for. She realised how stupid it was to be so fixated on such a small aspect of herself. This was something she'd been dealing with her whole life, this must've been the breaking point, this situation she'd thrown into certainly wasn't helping either.
"Thank you, Ser Jaime." She said, there was almost a smile but she seemed to catch herself.
"It's nothing… You were just acting like a bloody fool. I've always been good for telling you that, haven't I wench?" Brienne growled under her breath. He always had a way of getting under her skin. "Oh, I'm sorry, do you deny acting like the world just ended over a blemish?" her face went red, he couldn't tell if it was embarrassment or anger but either way she was defeated. Jaime let a smirk creep up on his face. It felt like old times again, he could be at peace knowing that everything was the way it should be.
"You need to sleep, wench." He told her as soon as she yawned, it was subtle but he noticed.
"You do too, Jaime."
"Sleep." Jaime ordered. "I'm not sleeping until I see you sleep first, I know your tricks, wench." Once again Brienne accepted defeat with a sigh and laid down on her bedroll. Jaime watched her steady breaths with the rising and sinking of her chest. Her large lips were slightly ajar and her straw hair was messily strewn on the bedroll. The way the fire shone across her face made her almost beautiful, even with the sore bite mark on her face. It felt strange seeing her so vulnerable. Even when they had to share all their nights together so long ago, the first time he saw the rare sight he was stunned. For a moment, he was tempted to use it against her but he decided to keep it to himself in fear that she'd accuse him of watching her sleeping, it didn't sound very good when he thought about it. It was his secret.
It didn't take long for he too to rest his head on his bedroll. Watching through the flames, the rise and fall of the wench's chest was like he was being hypnotised. When did her freckles look less like an imperfection and more endearing? When did her skin look so youthful? Her straw hair looked like honey in his tired state. That's what he decided to blame it on, he scoffed at how foolish his thoughts were. She's an ugly, stubborn wench he assured himself. It felt like Harrenhal all over again, when he'd been too long without his sweet sister, when he looked at it in hindsight she looked like the true maiden she is.
Seven hells stop it, Jaime. Stop before you do something foolish. Sleep, sleep, sleep. He scolded himself. He makes sure to put out the fire so he can't possibly keep looking at the wench like that. He turned on his side so he faced the wilderness instead. It wasn't as interesting but it was better than his breeches becoming too tight. He could finally close his eyes and sleep. Everything is peaceful, that night he dreams.
He dreams of Catelyn but when he finds the sight of her too horribly disfigured he dreams of Brienne. He dreams of Oathkeeper gripped in her hands swinging directing at him, he's forced to join this dance. Their steel kisses in a passionate blow. He doesn't know why this is happening, the only time they had a fight like this was when they were caught in the river ready to strangle each other. He had his hand then, now he could barely hold the sword, it was getting heavier in his useless left hand. He's sure to lose again but he's sure she'll stop. She wouldn't really kill him! Seven hells, she was giving him a challenge.
Suddenly after one strong swing of Valyrian steel, his sword is cut into two. He can only defend himself with his feet as he steps to the side from a lunge. He yields, at first he expects her to stop but she's not feeling merciful, instead she plunges her sword deep into his stomach with their dance coming to an end. It's their final dance, Jaime feels it in his heart, the betrayal cuts him deeper then steel ever could.
Jaime awakes with a burst of adrenaline. He feels it coursing through his body, he turns on his back and looks up at the stars as if to ask the gods what in the seven hells that dream was. It's decided from that point on he isn't going to sleep until he sees Brienne. He turns on his side to face her, the moon is the only source of light casting a faint blue hue across her face. She's almost beautiful. Almost. He assures himself the dream meant nothing, he can trust her. They'd been through it all. They had each other whenever they needed it most. Never did he pay a second thought to their trust. The mere idea of such an honourable woman betraying his trust like that seemed utterly ridiculous. Brienne's chest rises and falls again. He watches her like that for a few more moments before letting himself rest easy after convincing himself that she's not as horrible as the dream made her appear.