Jaime sat frozen in his seat, watching Brienne attack a piece of meat of undeterminable origin in her stew. His body was flooded with adrenaline, hot and cold shivers racing through his body, and he was shocked by his reaction. When Shereen had bent to kiss Brienne, a sharp stab of pain had twisted his guts. He had never felt such a feeling before, a mix of anxiety, fear and jealousy.
He only then realized that he'd taken Brienne for granted by mistake. He had known for a long time that she was in love with him, and he kept an easy distance between them by jesting about her looks. Back then, he craved her company but was in love with another. Yet every time they were apart, it was as if a piece of him was missing. Once, years ago, he had sailed on a ship past an island that turned out to be Tarth. At that moment, an ache had passed through him that was so intense that it had robbed him of his breath. There was a longing to see her face, to talk to her, to see that sparkle in her eyes when she addressed him as Ser Jaime. It was in that moment that he realized that his feelings had progressed into something more, something unknown to him. It had scared the shit out of him. So he had buried those feelings deep inside.
When they fought side by side in the war against the dead, he knew that there was no one he would rather have at his side. He had never felt so good about himself, so sure of who he was, than when he was with her. And after the war, he was finally where he wanted to be – sparring and jesting with his friends, and most importantly, his best friend. There were still moments when their eyes met that he would feel a twisting sensation in his stomach, his heartbeat would speed up and he would be seized by panic that she might see it in his eyes. Truth be told, he was enjoying life with her so much that he didn't dare to upset the balance. What if it didn't work out as they planned? He just could not lose her. They had all the time in the world so why hurry, he had told himself. She was in love with him. There was no one else for her anyway. Or so he had thought. But when Shereen had kissed her, there was a look of such confusion on Brienne's face that a terrible fear grabbed at him: What if he had been wrong? What if he had completely misunderstood her awkwardness in some situations? Could he actually live with the idea of being just friends?
He studied Brienne, trying to see all the unattractive parts of her face to shake himself out of this terrible state of romantic longing. He concentrated on her strawy mop of hair he loved to tease her about. The firelight played on the blond strands. He loved the way her hair curled behind her ear, and all he could think about was running his fingers through the short locks and watching them resettle on her long, slender neck. He shook himself, studied her broken nose but although it was slightly crooked it was still a beautifully shaped nose to him. He did not risk a glance at her lips for he had caught himself before studying them, trying not to imagine what he could do with them. He studied her strong and proud jaw, but all he could think about was to brush his lips there. How had he ever thought of her as plain? She might not be beautiful to conventional standards but no matter how hard he tried, he could not find an unattractive part on her.
"Do I have something on my chin?" He tore his eyes away from her jaw to see Brienne looking at him with an amused smile and raised eyebrows. He pulled himself together and put the walls up. He tilted his head and grinned at her: "Sooo Lady Brienne. Any late night strolls to Shereen's quarters planned tonight?" Brienne gave him a withering look before returning to her stew. "Oh great Gods, I'll never hear the end of this".
Jaime leaned closer: "Well, it is going to be a fun day for you tomorrow. Seeing how you're going to spend it with Shereen, briefing her on the people of Tarth. Think of all the gossip."
He could see by the tensing of her shoulders that she had completely forgotten about that.