Summary: After the battle with the wolves, all sorts of wounds are healed.

Chapter 8

Jaime's first thought, upon waking was: fucking hells, that hurts.

His second thought was: why?

Painfully, he forced his eyes open and looked down to see thick bandages around his stomach and thigh. What in the seven hells happened? he wondered woozily.

"Jaime!" he heard a familiar voice cry softly.

There was flurry of sound to his right as Brienne came forward to kneel at his bedside, as big and ugly as ever, the smattering of cuts and scrapes on her face doing little to improve her appearance, but her big blue eyes were wide and brimming with concern.

He still felt dizzy and dazzled, but seeing her jarred his memories: His abominable behavior in the training yard. Her subsequent flight from the Rock. The wolves.

Jaime noticed her shoulder had some thick bandaging on it too, but she seemed better off than he was. He tried to look around the room, but couldn't see much past the dark hangings around his bed. The hard lumpiness of the mattress told him it certainly wasn't his.

"Where are we?" he asked blearily.

"Casterly Rock," she said, breathlessly, her brow furrowed in worry. "One of the chambers on the ground floor. We didn't want to risk moving you up to your rooms. How do you feel? Are you alright? Do you want some water? You must be so thirsty. You-"

He blinked at the speed with which her words came tumbling out, trying to process them through his dizziness.

He almost laughed, but suddenly it occurred to him how strange it was that she was here at all. She had been in the process of escaping, when he was last conscious.

"We were in the woods," he interrupted, troubled.

"Um, yes," Brienne said quietly, flushing. "We were. We're...we're back now though. It's alright. You're alright."

She did not meet his eyes as she said it, but stared intently at her fingernails.

"You could have left me out there, wench," he muttered, just as quietly. "You had the chance to make your escape. I was certainly in no condition for a chase."

Her head snapped up suddenly and she gaped at him. She looked so scandalized at his words that he chuckled for a moment, stopping after he felt a surge of searing pain in his stomach.

"Do you honestly think I could have- could have just left you there? To bleed to death?"

"Of course you could have," he said. "I'm not sure how your mare fared in the fight, but mine was alright when you killed the last of the mongrels. You could have gone. You could be halfway back to your Sapphire Isle by now if you weren't so bloody righteous."

"Jaime," she said earnestly. "You saved my life. I couldn't have."

He laughed again despite the pain it caused him. "That's being remarkably generous, wench. I thinking 'made a tasty snack out of myself'' is a more accurate description of my role out there," he said bitterly.

"That's not true," she said vehemently. "You fought bravely. You slew two of them, and with only one hand. I surely could not have lasted much longer without your aid."

Jaime opened his mouth to make another self-deprecating comment, but stopped when Brienne reached over from the place where she knelt at his bedside and took his hand in her large one.

"Thank you, Jaime," she said and gazed at him with that incredibly sincere look on her face that always made him so bloody uncomfortable. Her eyes were just so bloody blue.

Because Jaime wanted to see another expression on her face besides overwhelming, big-eyed gratitude (and because he was an idiot who never learned from his mistakes) he smiled wryly and said,

"You know, wench, this all could have been avoided if you hadn't gone racing off into the night on your own like a bloody madwoman."

As expected, she changed from grateful to furious in a flash. "This could have been avoided, Jaime, if you hadn't behaved like a monster."

She glared at him, nostrils flaring and hurt in her eyes and he remembered that he'd chased her into the woods to apologize.

"Touche," he said quietly. "I am- I am sorry, Brienne. I should not have reacted so...I should not hae-"

He sighed in annoyance as struggled to find the words to express his regret. He was woozy and weak and thirsty. He couldn't think. Couldn't form eloquent thoughts. But the words began to spill out of him anyway.

"There aren't many people who have the courage to talk about Aerys to my face," he said so softly that Brienne had to lean closer to hear him. "I know they whisper about me behind my back. All Seven Kingdoms know me as the bloody Kingslayer. I should be bloody used to it by now, but... having it thrown in my face so directly was...that's not something I'm accustomed to."

"I should not have-" Brienne began, but he held up a hand to silence her.

"I drove you to it," he said. "I do not blame you for saying it, or for judging me. You had to fight with everything you had for a place in Renly's guard and I've no doubt that it appears I've violated the very sort of honor you've always yearned for. I know what it must look like. But the truth is, I'd do it again, a thousand times. I've never regretted it."

His head began spinning, so Jaime closed his eyes, but continued speaking.

The words tumbled forth without any thought. His confession began to spill from his lips and once he began, there was no stopping it. He told her everything. For the first time, Jaime told his story.

How Aerys had given him a place in the Kingsguard to rob Tywin of his heir. How he'd been trapped at the Mad King's side at King's Landing while the other kingsguard fought in the rebellion. How he'd witnessed the Targaryen king's descent into even greater paranoia and madness, how he'd stood by and watched as Rickard and Brandon Stark died brutally.

He told her of the wildfire plot, and how Aerys had planned to burn the city to the ground. He kept his eyes shut the entire time, and the wench kept silent. It was almost as if he was talking to himself, telling the tale he'd never told another person, the tale he'd kept inside himself for over a decade.

When he opened them, Brienne was still at his side, staring at him with an expression that was difficult to read. Finally she whispered, " My gods.Thousands would have died. Why haven't you ever tol-?"

"You're supposed to keep king's secrets, aren't you?" Jaime spat bitterly. "As if noble Ned Stark or any of the others wanted to hear my feeble explanations. They only had to look at me to judge me guilty."

Brienne chewed on her lip for a moment.

"It seems I misjudged you, Jaime. You did the right thing. The only thing." she said quietly. "I should not have said-"

"You didn't know," he replied quickly. "And as I said before, I drove you to it. If anything should not have been said that night, it was everythingthat came out of my mouth from the moment I arrived in the training yard. I am sorry for the things I said to you, my lady. Truly."

Brienne stared at him quietly for a while and that expression of hurt came back to her homely features, making his stomach ache in a way that had little to do with his wolf-induced wound. He too, recalled the cruel things he'd said in his anger.

"Why did you say those things, Jaime? It was so unlike yo- well... it was very different to how you have been these past weeks, anyway. Why-"

"Because I'm a bloody idiot, Brienne. A bloody idiot who had his feelings hurt."

Her mouth fell open slightly.

"I- I don't understand," she asked, puzzlement wrought across her freckled face. She was still kneeling at his bedside, her face level with his. He turned away from her to stare at the ceiling, unable to face her blue eyes as he confessed,

"I heard about your raven from Tarth. It served as an unwelcome reminder that you're not here by choice. You're a prisoner."

"I...I don't see how that-" she began, but he cut her off.

"Come on, wench. You'd have to be as thick as a castle wall not to realize you're the only person in this castle whose company I can tolerate! I acted like a fucking bastard because I was hurt. Hurt and angry over the realization my only bloody friend in the world is a political hostage who'd rather be elsewhere. I know you were upset and longing for home, and I took my bruised feelings out on you."

Gods, would you ever shut up? You've borne enough of your soul just now to last a fucking lifetime, Lannister. Quit while you're ahea- Well, quit before you make an even bigger arse out of yourself.

The voice in his head was screaming at him to be silent, to stop saying things that were making Brienne stare at him with a mixture of shock and pity but he blamed his wooziness on this unplanned flurry of honesty spouting from him.

In a soft, small voice he added, "Is it really so terrible for you, being trapped here with me?"

"I-" Brienne said, before falling silent for a long moment. Jaime continued to stare at the ceiling, unable to look her in the eyes as she gave her inevitable 'yes.'

"No," she said at last, and reached over to place a hand on his once again, startling him. "It's not terrible, Jaime. With a few notable exceptions, you've been very kind to me. It is quite wonderful to have someone to spar with. Your castle and grounds are beautiful. It's just...Well, It's not my home," she said, looking almost guilty at her honest response.

"I know," Jaime said, meeting her eyes and attempting to look as sincere as he felt. He wasn't sure he could pull off the expression, but he did his best and continued with, "I'm sorry, Brienne. If I could...If I could let you go, I would."

"I know," she said, giving his hand a little squeeze. "That means a lot."

He scoffed. "It doesn't mean a damn thing. Words are wind, wench," he said sharply, but when he caught her expression he softened. "Still. If there's anything I can...I can do to make your stay here more tolerable, do not hesitate to ask. If it can be done, it will be."

"Er...alright. Thank you," she said, chewing on her lip again. There was an awkward silence that Jaime eventually broke with a rather loud,

"So where the hells is Maester Corryn anyway? I assume he's the one who patched me up here," he said, indicating his bandages.

"Oh! Right. He was called away to assist with a complicated pregnancy. The babe has turned the wrong way in the womb and is like to come any day now. I am to..." she blushed. "He instructed me on how to...how to change your bandages. It would be best to do so soon," she said and even in the low light of his room he could see how red her freckled skin was glowing.

"Oh," he said stiffly. "Alright then. Get to it, wench! I want to get an idea of what my next set of hideous scars will look like."

She stopped blushing and looked mildly annoyed at his demanding tone, but got to her feet to fetch a bowl of water, a cloth and some sort of foul smelling salve from a nearby table. She came back to kneel at his bedside, looking hesitant.

His torso was naked, save for the thick bandages wrapped around his belly. He chose to look at the ceiling again, rather than the wench as she slowly reached forward to untie the wrappings. She worked surprisingly gently, though he still let out a hiss of pain as she slowly peeled them back from his puncture wounds.

Brienne let out a hiss of her own at the sight of his injury.

"On second thought" he said. "I'd rather not look. How bad is it?"

"It's...well it is not exactly pretty. But you'll be alright. Corryn stitched you up nicely and thinks we shall be able to avoid infection if we stay on top of things. He should be back shortly to look after you."

She dipped a rag into the water and wrung it out.

When she was ready, she turned back to him and allowed her left hand to come to a rest on an uninjured place on his abdomen. Her fingertips on his bare flesh made his skin tingle and a pleasurable shudder went through him.

Jaime barely had time to contemplate the absurdity of the sensation, before Brienne pressed the freezing cold cloth against his wound and the pleasurable sensation disappeared. Good, he thought, eyes widened. That was...odd.

Brienne was very delicate in her movements, but Jaime's wounds were deep and painful and he had to struggle to maintain composure and not writhe away from her.

When she reached the spot on his ribs where the fangs had gone in, he let out a roar of pain.

"That hurt, wench!"

"If you'd hold still, it wouldn't hurt as much," she chastised and he scowled.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a bloody child," he huffed.

"Then don't act like one. Be still," she repeated.

Brienne moved her left hand to his bare hip and held him there firmly to stop his squirming.

Jaime froze at the feel of her big, warm hand against his naked flesh and willed his heart to stop pounding in his chest.

It ignored him, and pumped even faster in order to send a rush of blood straight to his cock, which was beginning to rise against the fabric of his smallclothes.

He gritted his teeth in horror and prayed the wench would not notice, intent as she was on cleaning out his wounds.

It's been months since you've been touched by a woman, he told himself, trying to justify his body's reaction. Just a few times with Cersei, after you escaped the Starks, and before that you were off fighting wars and rotting in a prison cell. That's all this is. You're bloody touch starved.

The whole process did not take very long, but to Jaime it seemed an eternity. As Brienne calmly tended to his wounds, Jaime was a veritable mess. He flopped back and forth between experiencing searing pain when Brienne cleaned a particularly tender wound and experiencing highly unwanted pleasure whenever her gentle hands grazed over a sensitive bit of skin. He wasn't sure which was worse.

It wasn't her fault, of course.

He was truly grateful she was here. He was grateful that the ridiculously honorable wench had not abandoned him to die in the snow. He was grateful that he would be able to spar with her once again when he healed. He was grateful that she'd managed to forgive his cruelty and that their friendship had not been damaged beyond repair.

But he would most certainly be giving Corryn strict orders to take sole responsibility for all of his future bandage changings.

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