Author's Note: It's nice to hear so many of you were excited about the latest chapter! Thank you all for your reviews and favorites, but most importantly for reading! I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations as well. Enjoy!
Chapter 9
The first thing Jaime realized as his senses came back to him was that he was warm. The cold felt like a passing nightmare. He tried opening his eyes, but everything was a blur. He settled back and inhaled deeply, feeling a tightness to his chest that could either be the result of a deep sleep or a sickness. Something warm and soft shifted next to him.
His heart jolted and he tried to scramble away, but he got tangled, and fell head first off the bed.
"Ser Jaime, it's me!"
It took him a minute to focus, but eventually Brienne's face came into view.
"Brienne?" He gave a sigh of relief and started to disentangle himself, but was surprised to find his limbs felt heavy and uncoordinated. Eventually, he managed stand up to climb back into bed, but he glanced down to find himself nude. He glanced up at Brienne with a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk.
She was turned away, her face stained red.
"I'm not dreaming, am I?" He asked. There was a single bed in the room complete with a merrily crackling fire, animal skin rugs, and a plethora of wooden furniture. As he would have expected of the north, there was not a single bit of gold to be found. "I must've made it to Winterfell."
"You did, though you were more than half dead. I truly thought you were dead."
He grimaced and quickly climbed back into bed, once he started to shiver in the chill air. "Did you find me?"
"Your horse almost walked right past Winterfell. It was Pod and I who fetched you. If you'd passed by in the night, no one would've seen you and you would've died," she said. "To your great fortune, King Jon was expecting you."
"I told the crannogmen to let him know."
"You spoke with Lord Reed?'
"More like shouted at the trees and presumed they were nearby. What happened to my horse?"
"Put down. The poor beast couldn't be saved."
"That makes it three horses that died carrying me to Winterfell."
"Three?!" Brienne asked, looking at him with alarm.
"I ran one horse to death, my second was shot out from under me, and the third died of exposure."
"You had a horse shot out from under you?"
"You stripped me, did you not?" Jaime said, unable to contain his grin at the way Brienne continually blushed. "I'm sure you saw that lovely bruise on my shoulder."
"I wondered what could have caused it."
"Now you know." He glanced over at her curiously. "How is it you come to be in my bed?"
"It's my bed. The dragon queen and her party took up all the guest rooms in Winterfell. I volunteered my room. You were suffering from exposure and the best way to get you warm was body heat and…"
"You were the only volunteer."
"It was either me or Pod."
"I no doubt would've given the poor lad a heart attack as soon as I opened my eyes."
"He means well. Speaking of Pod, I was ordered to send for King Jon the moment you awoke."
"Far be it from me to interrupt your orders," Jaime with a sly grin that he used to paper over his nervousness. It was simple enough. All he had to do was tell Jon Cersei's plans, but that still didn't change the crimes he had committed against the Starks. Or in one case...the perceived crime. He undoubtedly shouldered the blame for the slaughter at the Twins despite knowing nothing about it until it was too late.
"Ser Jaime, I would ask you to avert your eyes."
He gave her a wry look. "I've seen you with even less on than now." She still glared at him until he rolled his eyes and said, "Fine."
He rolled away and kept his eyes closed. She sent Pod away at the door and then said, "I'm getting dressed. I imagine King Jon would prefer to speak with you alone."
"Of course," he said, keeping his back turned to her.
"Alright, you can turn. Do you need anything?"
He didn't answer. She had not bothered putting her armor on and just wore a tunic and trousers. She had just reached the door when he saw the pitcher on the night stand and reached for it. Good gods, I can't even hold a pitcher of wine, he thought as it shook in his hand.
"Here," Brienne said, snatching it up and pouring it into a cup for him. "Don't look at me like that. You were on the Stranger's door not half a day ago. Of course you need time to recover your strength. When Jon arrives, I'll head down for some food for us."
"Us?"
"Well, of course. You may be awake now, but that doesn't mean you're not still recovering. I'll be back."
"Are you sure that's sanctioned by the Maester?"
She sighed. "I don't know why I put up with you."
He grinned at her, but he could already feel the exhaustion pulling at his eyelids. He took a sip of the wine and sighed in contentment at the warm feeling that flooded his belly. He laid back on the pillows and closed his eyes.
The next thing he knows he's being prodded in the shoulder and he snaps awake. King Jon's hand was hovering around his shoulder and he holds it up in defense. "You fell asleep again," Jon said, amusement coloring his voice.
"I didn't get much in the way of sleep the last week," Jaime replied irritably.
"You said you had news to deliver. I assume it pertains to the alliance Queen Daenerys and I formed with Queen Cersei," Jon said in a clipped tone.
"Yes. Cersei has no desire to ally with you. She'd rather the monsters fight each other. Her words," Jaime said. The anger he had felt at her betrayal of not only Jon Snow's and the dragon queen's trust but his simmered behind his eyes.
"I thought I made it clear - "
"You couldn't have been clearer. She's delusional," Jaime snapped. "I told her the threat of the Others was too great to put petty politics over it, but she wouldn't hear it."
Jon sighed. "Is that all?"
"No," Jaime replied. He could feel his throat getting sore and wondered briefly if it had to do with how little he talked on the way up here. He took another sip of wine. Jon kept eye contact. No longer was he the shy and irascible bastard moping around Winterfell, but a hardened commander who knew nothing about the pettiness of politics. Maybe simplistic life in the Night Watch was exactly what Jaime needed. Too bad it came with the caveat of never leaving the wall and never taking a woman again.
"Euron Greyjoy didn't flee King's Landing in terror of the wight. He and Cersei plotted behind my back. He's sailing to Essos to ferry the Golden Company back across the sea."
Jon muttered something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like 'never trust a Greyjoy,' but Jaime didn't press him on it.
"Cersei intends to take back the lands Queen Daenerys took from her, but I don't think she has any intention of opening a second front on you. She made it quite clear that she wished to fortify her position and watch you and the dragon queen battle it out with the Others. But if I'm being honest - " Jon narrowed his eyes at him "- I don't know what goes through Cersei's mind these days. She's lost to me."
Jon was quiet for a moment as he seemed to analyze him.
It irritated Jaime. There was no possibility of winning any kind of staring contest when his head was foggy and his body so exhausted that he threatened to drift off after every passing second.
"Look, King Snow, I am far too tired to lie. If you don't mind, I'd like to go back to sleep."
"You of all people should understand my skepticism. You haven't been the kindest to my family in the past."
"I was not the only transgressor in the Stark-Lannister feud," Jaime replied, his eyes sparking and his tone hard. "What happened to your family was atrocious, but I had no knowledge of it until it was too late. I have done everything I can to make amends since."
"My sister Sansa did say that Lady Brienne was sent by you. I rather doubt I'd have a sister were it not for her. Lady Brienne also informed me that you took Riverrun without shedding any unnecessary blood, so I believe you...to a point. I will judge your fate when you have recovered."
Jaime stayed quiet. He didn't trust himself to not say something cutting. He had no status now, unlike Jon Snow who was king. It was by the bastard's good grace that he wasn't dead yet. He owed him. After being saved by wolves on the way up, he also owed another Stark. His life was in their hands.
"What about Queen Daenerys?"
"As you are a guest under my roof, she has agreed to allow me to deal with you. Your brother is waiting just outside, shall I send him in?"
"I can't make any promises I won't fall asleep on him," Jaime muttered.
Jon opened the door and Tyrion squeezed past him as he walked out. He immediately grabbed the pitcher of wine and poured his own glass.
They stared at each other a moment. Jaime wanted to be angry with Tyrion for murdering their father, but the pain had long dulled and in his exhaustion anger seemed hopelessly futile.
"For as long as I live, I better not hear you doing something as crazy as trying to travel to Winterfell, alone, in the winter."
"I didn't have much choice. Cersei threatened to kill me with the Mountain. I needed to put as much ground between me and her as I could."
Tyrion looked troubled to hear that. "If you're lost to her then…"
"She's alone. Tyrion, she's not who she used to be."
"You and I have very different perspectives on our sister."
Jaime's expression darkened. "I'm not so certain you didn't have the right of it all along."
"Love often makes us blind."
"Don't make excuses for me," Jaime snapped. "I knew what she was as soon as she blew up the Sept of Baelor. I murdered Aerys for ordering the city to be burnt to the ground. But...I couldn't...I..I had nowhere to go."
"And no matter where you went, she would've dragged you back to her," Tyrion finished. "I don't blame you."
Jaime fell silent. He'd never admit it aloud, but he felt lost without Cersei. Their whole damned lives, Cersei had talked about how they were two halves of one soul and destined to be together. They came into the world together and they would leave together. He began to doubt Cersei's devotion once he came back without a hand. He had grown smaller in her eyes; he was now less than perfect.
Despite the clear sign, he had continued to follow her like some lost puppy. He cringed just thinking about it. If he had an inkling that Cersei was a witch, he would think that she had bewitched him, but it had been his own damn need for gratification.
It was easy to see it now that he was separate from her influence. She had controlled him with sex their whole lives. She had never been as devoted to him as he was to her. He was just another plaything, an attack dog not unlike the Mountain. The very thought made him nauseated and he wanted to throw up, but he swallowed the bile back down.
"How do you feel now without your ears?"
Jaime blinked and looked back to Tyrion. "What did you say?"
"Your ears - "
Jaime immediately reached for his ears with his left hand, finally feeling them against the bandage. Tyrion laughed and he glared.
"I will forever remember that look."
"Not funny. I don't need to lose anymore appendages."
"The Maester did cut away the tips of your ears. They were too frostbitten."
Jaime eyed him warily. "Just the tips?"
"I was here when he did. I massaged your feet to make sure he didn't have to remove your toes either. You're welcome. I just about lost all the wine I drank they were so smelly."
"I'm sure that would have been a tragedy."
"Not really. Arbor Gold doesn't exist up here, so at the very least it would've been cheap wine."
They fell into silence again. Jaime was blinking slowly, still struggling to fight the exhaustion. Brienne was supposed to be back with food soon and he hoped he stayed awake long enough to fill himself. He hadn't gotten a good look at his body, but he had felt the way his clothes had hung off him in the end.
Tyrion seemed to be thinking along the same lines, for the good humor in his face dried up and he said, "I'm glad you're alive." He climbed up onto the bed, just high enough to place a kiss on Jaime's brow.
Jaime smiled back. "I'm glad you're alive too."
"I'll come back tomorrow. Sleep, brother."
"After I eat," Jaime commented. "I'm sure the wench is at the door. Mind letting her in?"
Tyrion gave him a strange look, but opened it and true to Jaime's word, Brienne and Podrick were standing outside bearing a tray of food and drinks.
Brienne entered and set a tray down on a table in the room.
Jaime made to get up, but Brienne said, "You stay right there! You're eating in bed."
"But I don't want to spill on the covers."
"Then you better eat carefully," Brienne said through gritted teeth.
Jaime only smiled innocently up at her, but it disappeared when she handed him a bowl of soup. "Is that all?"
"Maesters orders."
"I can stomach better than a bowl of broth."
"Maesters orders," Brienne repeated.
He scowled at her but picked up the spoon and started eating. Now that he had been without his dominant hand for a few years, he had finally mastered the silverware with his left hand, but it was still awkward. Pod and Brienne sat at the table and ate. Pod would glance around awkwardly every once in awhile looking everywhere but at Jaime, but Brienne kept her eyes firmly on her food, acknowledging nothing else. When she and Pod had finally gone through their meal, she glanced over to Jaime to find the bowl empty on the night stand and he was buried back beneath the sheets, sleeping on his stomach, his head turned away from them.
Brienne felt a pain in her heart as she looked at him sleeping peacefully. She remembered heaving a quiet sigh of relief when his eyes had fluttered open in the bed. He had been so cold that when she curled up in bed beside him, it felt more like hugging a corpse. She thanked the new and the old gods that he had not succumbed to the deathly chill of the north in spite of his hardships.
She dismissed Pod and once more began stripping out of her clothes, putting on a nightshift to protect her modesty, though she did not fear it being take from her by Jaime Lannister. When she climbed into bed, she looked carefully at him. His face had been freshly washed by the maester, but it was stained by the bruises that were still fading. After his period of starvation, his face was too thin, but it was at least for now hidden by an unkempt beard. His eyes appeared sunken and were bruised from the lack of sleep.
She couldn't keep herself from brushing away the hair at his forehead. It was greasy and dirty from his trip, but she felt only relief at touching his unclean, albeit warm skin.
"I'm glad you're alive," she whispered to no one and laid down to sleep.
