Upon entering Traitor's Walk Jaime and Brienne saw there was an old tapestry on the floor just inside the entrance of the tower. The tapestry had been painstakingly folded so that Robert Baratheon's woven face was right where one had to step on it upon entering the tower. From what could be seen of the scene King Robert was heroically posed, sword held aloft, among a storm-tossed fleet of ships against a darkened sky with flames rising from a seaside castle behind him. It was obvious the tapestry had been set there as a place to wipe one's boots upon entering the tower, and Robert's face was smeared with wet mud and what appeared to be bits of horse manure tracked in from the stables.

"I see Daenerys has been going through the storerooms," Jaime remarked, stopping to look at the tapestry.

"Is that King Robert?" asked Brienne, "He was quite handsome, wasn't he?"

"Yes," Jaime said, not trying to hide his annoyance, "That is Robert, and if I'm not mistaken this depicts the Greyjoy Rebellion. Though Robert wasn't in this battle. It was Stannis that was Master of Ships. And no, I don't find him handsome."

"Too bad this doesn't show Stannis; then we could wipe our boots on his face." Brienne remarked.

"Robert will do just fine." Jaime said shortly, stamping his boots on the tapestry to remove the snow and muck from the stables. Brienne followed suit, amused by the childish satisfaction Jaime took in tromping on his sister's late husband. Was he still jealous? Whether he was or not there were no lack of reasons for him to hate King Robert. Brienne hoped there was a Stannis tapestry laid out somewhere with a lot of foot traffic.

They climbed the steps to Jaime's quarters and stepped inside. Brienne hung both of their cloaks. While she unstrapped Oathkeeper and leaned it against the wall Jaime set his packages down on the floor near his saddle bags and then sat on the bed. Brienne tried not to stare as Jamie leaned back on his elbows, his feet still on the floor. His scruffy chin was resting on his chest and he was looking up at her through his windblown hair. If she didn't know better she would have described the way he was looking at her as seductive, but she assumed he was probably just sleepy.

Jaime and that bed had figured prominently in Brienne's imagination all day as she had sat in the small council chambers with Queen Daenerys, Mormont, Tyrion, Ser Loras and about a dozen other men gathered to discuss how best to push back the Others when the latest wave of Silvers went north. She hoped her inattention hadn't been too evident to everyone present. Given her reputation as a stumble tongue any hesitation upon speaking when asked for her opinion was probably expected. She knew she should be a more active participant in the discussions, but she found the meetings mostly revolved around men trying to impress Queen Daenerys with their battle experience. Given the very scant and shear tunic the queen had been wearing Brienne was not surprised by the men competing for attention. She and Ser Loras had sat next to each other and exchanged amused expressions when no one was paying them any attention. Despite their history, Brienne was coming to quite like Loras Tyrell. With his effeminate side balancing out her lack of traditional femininity they had begun to enjoy insulting each other while laughing at everyone else. Loras was much droller than she could have imagined, with an expressive eye roll that put Tyrion's to shame.

Tyrion himself did not involve himself in the cock fight that seemed to be going on among the men in the room; from his place at Daenerys side he cultivated an uncharacteristically sober expression. Brienne did catch him once covering his mouth to stifle a laugh as Jorah Mormont reached across the table for a flagon of wine that had him practically in Dany's bosom, despite the presence of a full flagon nearly at his elbow. The queen either didn't notice or was used to his fumbling attempts to rub up against her.

The council chamber had been quite warm with a few braziers fully stoked, no doubt in deference to the queen's brief attire. Everyone else was flushed and panting, so Brienne's occasional blush when her imagination got the better of her went unnoticed. The night before had given her plenty of fodder for distracting thoughts and daydreams about Jaime.

Even here in Jaime's room she wasn't able to stop musing on it. He had almost kissed her. Or had that been her imagination as well? But he had (sort of) accused her of causing his arousal, how was she to stop thinking about that? Which of them had been bolder: her for causing it or him for remarking on it? Brienne decided, at least while she was letting herself indulge in speculation, that his remarking on it meant… well, what the seven hells did it mean?

"What are you thinking so deeply about, Wench?" Jaime's voice intruded on her thoughts. If she hadn't already been blushing she surely would be now. He was watching her with an amused grin on his face. She wondered how long she had been standing there staring at the wall.

"Oh, just the council today." She told him. "Ser Loras and I sat next to one another."

"Oh? How did that go? I know he isn't your favorite person."

"I am coming to believe he's not so bad," Brienne said with a smile, remembering a particularly funny incident when Ser Clive had called Jorah Mormont a squirrel in heat. Brienne chuckled briefly remembering how Loras had whispered in her ear that Mormont should have buried his nuts in the snow before coming to council.

Jaime didn't look amused. Maybe he was just impatient for Brienne to shave him so they could get on with their plans for the evening.

"Where is your shaving knife?" Brienne asked.

"In my brown bag, the one with the lion clasp," he told her.

"The lion with the ruby eyes or the one that's yawning?" She asked.

"For the last time: it's roaring. Lions don't yawn. But it's the one with the red eyes."

Brienne retrieved the knife from his bag and walked over to Jaime. "It's funny how they let you keep this but won't let you carry a sword." She remarked, "You'll have to move over. I need to be next to the water."

"Where do you want me?" he asked her with a smirk.

Brienne gave him a little smile, hoping she looked mysterious. Gods, what if he could guess what she was thinking. But no, how could he? "Sit facing me," she told him, settling herself on the bed cross legged. Jaime mirrored her, sitting so that their knees were touching. He leaned toward Brienne with his forearms resting on his thighs. She wet the lump of soap next to the basin and rubbed it between her hands before covering the lower half of his face and part of his neck with the lather. She took up the blade and looked critically at it. Jaime winced as she plucked a hair from his head and slid it across the blade, slicing it lengthwise. She raised an eyebrow at him and said in a low voice "Don't move," Jaime smiled, and Brienne tried to look serious, "And don't smile either, it makes your face crinkle up. I don't want to nick you." She positioned the knife and Jaime closed his eyes and tried to keep his face expressionless.

Brienne put her left hand at the back of his neck, with her thumb resting at the edge of his jaw. She brought the knife smoothly up his cheek, scraping against the stubble. Brienne was confident with a knife in her hand, and she took her time over the job, slowly caressing Jaime's face with razor sharp steel. Jaime's breathing was deep and measured as Brienne used her hand to raise his chin, tilt his head, and stroke his cheek with her thumb to pull it smooth for the knife. She knew he trusted her utterly and having him so relaxed under her ministrations was lulling her as well until they were breathing almost as one; Brienne hated to break the spell when she was finished shaving him. She rinsed the knife one more time and set it on the table and then placed a hand on either side of Jaime's face to check for stubble. Jaime opened his eyes at her touch and looked at her. Brienne felt her heart stutter in her chest and tried not to breathe in too quickly. She froze under Jaime's intensity, not sure how to retreat. Just sit back, Brienne, she thought to herself, and in that heartbeat of hesitation Jaime brought his hand up and gently guided her head down until their lips met. It was a brief kiss, and as both of them pulled away Jaime slid his hand from her hair, twirling a strand around his finger as he went.

"Thank you," Jaime said softly, whether for the kiss or the shave Brienne wasn't sure. She sat back and gave him a shy half smile before dropping her eyes, rubbing her hands on her knees as though to dry the soap from them. Jaime straightened his back, and when Brienne risked another look at him through her eyelashes he was still watching her. She chewed her bottom lip, unsure of what to do next. She wished they were sparring with swords so that they could be on equal footing; she would instinctively know what her next move should be. She never doubted his intentions when they met sword to sword, and while she might not always know what his next move would be she could be sure that her fighting instincts would allow her to parry or attack as needed.

Jaime had her kept off-balance a lot in these last few days. The normal rules between them seemed to have changed since his they had come to the Red Keep for his trial. Aside from the hand-holding, embraces, and the intensity of his eyes as he looked at her, even his teasing about them being lovers seemed to have taken on a different tone. Now there was this kiss, a kiss that could not be denied. Oh, it could be said to be a "thank you" kiss for shaving him, but it had felt like something more. It wasn't their first kiss, but those other kisses didn't count. Kisses and confessions when they were in their cups were never acknowledged when they were sober; it was one of many unspoken rules they navigated by in their friendship.

Finally Brienne said, so quietly it was practically inaudible, "You're welcome, Jaime." She did not look at him as she said it, and was not sure whether she wished for her words to end this impasse or for him to parry somehow. She could feel his eyes still upon her, so she finally rallied her courage and looked at his face. He reached out and clasped one of the hands she had resting in her lap, brought it up to his lips and kissed her knuckles tenderly.

"Forgive me, Wench, for making you uneasy." he lowered their hands onto his knee.

"I am not 'uneasy,'" she said quickly, and at Jaime's raised eyebrow she said "Okay, not very 'uneasy.'"

"Not very."

"Jaime! Okay, you startled me a little. What brought that on?" She waved her other hand vaguely, trying to indicate the kiss.

Jaime looked down at their hands on his knee, his thumb brushing along hers softly. "I found myself thinking about you and missing you all day, Brienne." He admitted, "Besides, I owed you for throwing me off when I was about to kiss you last night."

"You owed me for throwing you off?" She asked skeptically. "That's new. I suppose when I knock you into the dust during sparring I should now expect you to, um… " Brienne stumbled to a stop, unable to think of an equivalent action that didn't sound blatantly carnal. Jaime laughed at her horrified expression as she covered her mouth with her hand, wishing she could take back her retort.

"Talked yourself right up against the wall there, didn't you, Wench? Let me finish the thought," he said with a cat-like grin, "You knock me into the dust and you can expect me to ravish you? To take you right there in the yard?"

Brienne actually giggled at the thought, "Think of the racket we'd make in full armor!"

"Maybe we should stick with mail or boiled leather when we spar from now on." He added, his grin becoming more predatory.

"And what if, unlikely as it sounds, you were the one to beat me into the ground?" Brienne asked, her eyes glowing at this new game. It was bawdier than their usual verbal sparring, but she found herself warming to it easily.

"Hm," Jaime said, seeming to consider her question. "If I were to overcome you… " he paused to contemplate it, a secretive smile playing about his mouth.

"I'm waiting," Brienne told him after a moment.

"Oh, sorry," Jaime told her, pretending to shake himself. "My imagination got the better of me." He leaned back quickly as she reached out with her free hand to smack him on top of the head. Brienne's arms were more than long enough to get a good whack in. He responded by pulling her knuckles to his lips again and giving them a loud, sloppy kiss. Brienne narrowed her eyes at this new thing, wondering if she would be tempted to hit him more, or less, in the future, and trying to decide if they were to end up on the floor again if he would just go ahead and kiss her or if she would have to buck him off first. She chuckled at the thought, earning her a quizzical look from Jaime.

In her heart she knew it all meant nothing. Still, she was unable to quell the little frisson inside at the thought of Jaime actually wanting to kiss her, the idea that maybe he really had thought about her all day even as she had been preoccupied with thoughts of him.

Jamie released her hand to rub his own over his smooth cheeks and chin. "Will I pass, do you think?" he asked Brienne.

"No, but it's our best chance. I'm more worried about tomorrow morning."

"I think it will work." Jaime said confidently, "I'm really looking forward to stealing your pillow tonight."

"You can try. We had better get going to dinner. I promised Loras we would go to the Queen's Ballroom afterward to hear some bard that is singing there tonight."

"Do we have to?" Jaime asked with a frown. "If I have to hear 'Dany's Divine Dragons' or 'The Ballad of Barristan' again I might be sick."

"At least it is unlikely we'll hear the 'Rains of Castamere' or 'Brawny Baratheon's Bollocks' in there, although 'Queen Cersei's Strumpet Stomp' is enjoying a comeback." Brienne replied, unfolding her legs to get off the bed.

Jaime groaned. "You have to promise me that if they start to play 'Ode to Aerys' we can leave."

"Agreed." Brienne told him, "But if they play 'the Wight's Whirl' you must promise you will dance it with me."

"Is that even a song?" Jaime was appalled.

"No, but it would be a good one, don't you think?" Brienne widened her eyes at him and briefly pantomimed a wight shuffling in a circle.

"Incorrigible Wench." Jaime said, getting off the bed himself. "By the way, there is a lady maid coming by to smuggle some of my things into the Maidenvault tonight," Jaime told her. "I was able to bribe the man in charge of the serving women, some upjumped manservant name of Godfrey with breath that stinks like the tidelands. He assured me he could assign you a lady maid we could trust. I hope you weren't too attached to the one you had?"

"I didn't have anyone especially assigned to me," Brienne said, "You know I prefer not to be bothered with having servants around."

"A woman of your station should have someone to look after her." he was rummaging through his saddle bags for clothing to be taken to the Maidenvault. "Do you think your boots would fit me?" he asked. Brienne frowned and stood next to Jaime, aligning her foot with his. They appeared to be the same size. Could I not be dainty in any way? She thought with resignation. "Good, that will help." Jaime said.

He took some of the wrapped packages from his visit to town and set them on the bed along with his smallest saddle bag. "You took care of what we need for me to get back out in the morning?"

"I did, yes. This seems like a lot of work just to sleep in a bigger bed."

"Do you want to sleep here again tonight?" Jaime asked, "If so, I get the side next to the wall. I do have to warn you that I saw old Lord Branson heading for the privy closet with a thick scroll to read not long ago. I'm not sure he's come out yet, but I expect it will be reasonably aired out by morning. That is, unless he eats the pickled pigs' feet at dinner tonight."

"Or we could each sleep in our own beds." Brienne said.

"You wound me, My Lady," Jaime said, "After I tried so hard to keep you warm last night?"

"Stealing the covers was keeping me warm?" Brienne asked incredulously.

Jamie did not deign to answer. They both knew that it was always Brienne who took the lion's share of the covers if she could.

Brienne strapped on Oathkeeper and took their cloaks off of the peg she had hung them on. Both cloaks were damp from the storm blowing outside, but the warmth of the dining hall would help to dry them. She handed Jaime his Lannister red cloak and settled her own midnight blue cloak over her shoulders and fastened it with a crescent moon clasp.

Brienne opened the door and held her hand out to Jaime, who took it in his and gave her the kind of smile that made her knees weak. Holding hands and being kissed by Jaime Lannister was something she saw no reason not to enjoy thoroughly, as long as she remembered to guard her heart against the hope of something more.

Brienne had worked hard from a young age not to be vulnerable to anyone. She had been taught at her Septa's knee that her physical appearance and lack of grace made her unworthy of love or acceptance, but it wasn't until she was in Renly's camp and subjected to the humiliation of being courted as a joke that she learned how poorly she had defended her heart; it was a lesson she would never forget. She couldn't change how sensitive her nature was, but she had learned to protect herself from false hope.

They walked back down the stairs and stopped to talk to Lavakhat and Hemikh. Brienne greeted them in Dothraki and they began a halting conversation with much laughter at Brienne's occasional difficulty in pronunciation or finding the right words. Brienne for her part took their kidding in stride. The Dothraki were an honest people, and she sensed their approval of her. It didn't hurt that they towered over her and had a weakness for bad jokes made worse by the language barrier.

The four of them started toward the tower doors together. The tapestry of the Greyjoy Rebellion was still in place though Robert Baratheon was unrecognizable under the muck and mud that now covered him. Outside, the storm was still raging with thick heavy snowflakes and strong winds, though the lightning had moved north. It was difficult to see across the courtyard in the blowing snow, and Brienne felt sorry for the Dothrakis. She would have to remember to ask them why they wouldn't dress for the weather. As hardy as they were she knew the biting cold had to be affecting them. She doubted they had even known what gooseflesh was until they had followed their Khaleesi across the sea.

As they entered the building that housed the dining hall they were all relieved by the warmth inside. Daenerys did not skimp on using wood to warm the Keep. If winter continued as long as the maesters were predicting she would run out of trees to fell and eventually have to don warmer garb. Brienne imagined she would set her dragons to work blowing fire through the vents to prevent such a harsh measure.

Once inside the dining hall Lavakhat and Hemikh went to join a rowdy table of Dothrakis near the queen's table. Rufus the dragon skull was still hanging in his place of honor, though apparently someone has warned Daenerys about the dangers of smoking dragons so he now longer had a brazier's chimney run up to his mouth. He did have two new glowing red candles cleverly set right behind his eyeholes.

Jaime and Brienne looked toward the other side of the hall for someplace else to settle. Ser Loras was sitting at a table beneath what looked to be a small tapestry with a bulge in the middle of it. When Loras spotted them he waved them over enthusiastically. Jamie didn't budge so Brienne tried to pull him toward the table. He set his feet and glared at her.

"Do you see what he's sitting under?" Jaime asked her.

"Some new tapestry, I think. How bad can it be?"

"I'll show you." He grumbled, finally letting her tow him over to the table. Before they could greet Loras Brienne's mouth dropped open and she found herself staring speechless at the wall. The tapestry was small as such things went, but it definitely drew one's attention. It depicted in vivid detail their new queen, face covered in blood, chewing her way through a large heart. The heart and Daenerys' hands appeared to be jutting out of the scene as they had been sculpted from some leathery material and then stuffed. The heart itself gleamed as though it was fresh, and the blood trails were raised thanks to some stitched cording. To Brienne the heart almost looked like it was pulsating. Dany's eyes seemed to be staring right at them. The Dothraki figures woven into the background seemed to be cheering her on as she devoured the organ.

"What in the seven hells?" Brienne squeaked, taking a long step back. Jaime and Loras laughed at her. Recovering, Brienne said in a low voice, "I hope that's not on tonight's menu."

"Not that I can tell," Loras told her, turning to glance at the tapestry with a little shudder. "Seems like the same old stuff, fish and feet and fungus, but I hear there will be a special sweet treat coming out later."

Jaime pulled Brienne to the bench and Loras noticed that they were holding hands. He raised a sardonic eyebrow at Brienne and she knew he would have something snarky to say about it, hopefully later where Jaime couldn't hear.

"Ah, holding hands," No such luck, "How cute are you two? It's not often you see a couple of swordsmen holding hands so adorably."

"Really? I was sure I saw you and Renly holding hands at least once," Jaime said equably. Loras blushed. Jaime and Brienne sat down on the bench across from him and Jaime raised Brienne's hand and kissed it before releasing it. She scowled at him; was he playing it up for Ser Loras?

A server came by with wine cups and Loras filled them from the flagon that was already on the table. Soon afterwards food was brought by a sweating kitchen boy. "'Fraid we're all out of pigs' feet." He told them. "But we've got something else special tonight: pig stomach stuffed with pig pluck and boiled oats." He set the trenchers down and the veined pig stomachs seemed to quiver next to the fish. Instead of carrots there were a few prunes nestled on a lettuce leaf.

"What is pig pluck?" Brienne asked, stabbing tentatively at the greyish mass.

"Pig livers and lungs. Maybe some hearts if they haven't saved them for dessert." Jaime said, pushing his portion away. "I suppose the prunes are so we can more easily digest whatever doesn't make us vomit." he leaned over, moved Brienne's hair aside and whispered in her ear "Don't risk it; I bought us something to eat later."

"How sweet," Tyrion's voice said from behind them. "Whispering secrets in Lady Brienne's ear? Come on, share with the whole table. Cersei and I would like to hear what you're talking about"

"We're not falling for that again –"Jaime started to say as he and Brienne turned to look at Tyrion and came face to face with a glowering Cersei as well.

Tyrion looked beyond pleased with himself as he escorted Cersei around the table to sit next to Loras. Something was strange about Cersei's hair. It was slicked back from her face and the grooves of the comb had left it looking like thick greasy noodles. Her forehead gleamed a little with whatever she had used to style her hair. The freshly applied kohl around her eyes looked a little heavier than normal. Cersei held herself proudly upright in her regal gown, her curvy figure enhanced by the tailoring of the red and gold dress.

"Love your hair," said Loras, leaning toward her to sniff it. "And it smells so…earthy! You always were so daring in your hairstyles. I wouldn't be surprised if Queen Daenerys herself adopts this one."

Cersei looked daggers at him. She raised her hand in the air to command wine as she surveyed her tablemates. "Brother," she acknowledged Jaime with a little nod before turning to look at Brienne. She didn't bother to hide her contempt, "And our Beast of Tarth," she said, noting her brother's expression as he tensed in anger, "I mean, Brienne of Tarth. So sorry, they sound so much alike. Brienne, Beast, Beast, Brienne. You can see how I would make such a mistake."

Brienne set her hand on Jaime's thigh, gripping it tightly to keep him from launching himself over the table at his sister. Cersei's malevolence was so obvious that it really didn't bother Brienne. She would sooner be called 'Beast' than Beauty' anyway. Jaime turned to look at her and she could see by his eyes how much he loathed Cersei before looking relieved when he realized that Brienne was not upset.

Cersei's hand still lingered in the air, but no one had attended to her need for wine. Tyrion raised his arm and was immediately attended by a server who ran to fetch a new flagon and cups for the table. Cersei abruptly lowered her arm.

"It seems my little brother commands some respect these days," she said coldly. "I imagine you must have weaseled your way into the child queen's good graces with your clownish appeal. What did you do, brother, act the fool and ride on a pig? Or did you juggle to amuse the little tart? I cannot understand all of these men fawning over the girl, so obviously flaunting her charms in her provocative clothes. Why, she makes Margaery Tyrell look classy." Loras started at that, but before he could defend his sister Cersei was continuing with her tirade. "That girl needs a proper septa to take her in hand and teach her the difference between allure and complete exposure. One almost expects her to bend over and let one of those barbaric Dothraki men mount her right here at dinner. She will never be respected as a queen when she looks like such a slut…"

"House Lannister" Tyrion interrupted, rolling his eyes, "Hear Me Bore." Everyone but Cersei laughed. Tyrion poured their wine and put a very full cup in front of Cersei.

There was a sudden metallic rumble from somewhere above and everyone but Tyrion looked up. First they saw a badly stuffed sheep being drawn by pulleys attached at intervals along the rafters. As they watched it being jerked along by a servant at one side of the hall they were startled by the sound of a drumroll. Before they could find its source another figure followed the track the sheep had taken. This one appeared to be stitched together from at least three Braavosi lizard carcasses and stuffed to make one long dragon shape: one reptile for the head, legs and tail, and at least two more torsos to make up the body. Wings had been made out of leather scraped so thin it looked translucent.

Tyrion shook his head sadly. "Her grace can't seem to grasp how a siege engine works, but she won't rest until she figures out how to make that poor pieced together lizard's wings flap. As it is she has two servants who have to operate the pulleys every hour or so.

As they watched the "dragon" chase after the sheep Cersei and Tyrion's food was brought and set before them. Both of them looked aghast at the pig stomach as it nestled next to the fish. Tyrion took a bite of the fish. "Well," he said, pulling the half chewed bite out of his mouth, "I had no idea Blackwater Bay was out of fresh fish."

"I was told tonight's fish was fresh," Ser Loras told him.

"I guess the problem is that I just can't tell the old cods from the new." Tyrion sighed. Looks like fruit for dinner again tonight. What do you say, Cersei, shall we stick with the grape?" Cersei did not deign to reply but held her now empty cup out for a refill.

"Ser Loras," Brienne asked after a moment, as she and Jaime sat awkwardly watching Jaime's siblings demolish the flagon of wine and then flag down a servant for more, "Do you know when the bard will be singing in the Queen's Ballroom?"

"It should be soon," he said. "If I were you I would go early to find a place to sit, unless you want to stay for dessert."

"Oh, do stay," Tyrion urged them, "I understand there will be hearts made from the sweetened melted hooves of horses. Yum!" He rubbed his belly and grinned.

Jaime climbed over the bench before Tyrion had finished speaking and held out his hand to Brienne. "My lady," he said, smiling at her. She took his hand and stepped over the bench herself. Jaime nodded farewell to the three at the table and he and Brienne made their way out. Under his breath Jaime told Brienne "I am going to kill that Tyrion. Did you see his face when he showed up with Cersei?" He paused so that Brienne could pull open the door for them. "Also, was it just me or did Cersei smell like bear grease?"