Jaime dreamed that he was in the bath again. It was a familiar dream, and he could smell the hot well water, feel the steam rising up against his skin, but this time he wasn't fevered and one handed. He was whole again, could see both hands under the water, and instead of crouched defensively in the corner of the bath, Brienne was all naked curves beside him, holding baby Jaime, and smiling.
"Jaime?" He awoke to the sound of her voice, and when he opened his eyes, she was sitting on her knees beside him, naked, and he thought he must still be dreaming.
She wasn't smiling anymore though, and she had that defensive, warrior glint in her blue eyes.
He wanted to take her in, laid bare for him like this, but those warrior blue eyes held him rapt.
"I like to think of myself as an honorable woman," she said, haltingly, and he realized she was nervous. She didn't make a move to cover herself, but she was sitting stiffly, her hands resting on her upper thighs. "I married Gerald because my father wanted me to, but more importantly, because he loved me, and because..." she stopped, and looked away briefly before locking her eyes back on his. "Because I never thought Jaime Lannister would ever look at me twice," she finished.
He opened his mouth, but she placed a soft hand over it to stop him, and shook her head, her blond curls bouncing a bit as she did.
"My whole life, I've been called a boy, a beast, or worse. You were the first man to see me as I wanted to be seen. As a knight. A warrior, you called me. I wanted to hate you for your name, for what I thought you'd done, but I couldn't help but love you for who you are, for how you saw me. So if you're serious about fancying me-"
"I don't fancy you, Brienne. I love you," He said, emphatically, sitting up in the bed.
She continued as if she didn't hear him. "If you're not having a laugh at me, then I can't be honorable anymore. I have to see what it's like to love a man like you, even if only for another week."
She finished, blushing, and looked away. Jaime took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him.
"You're perfect, Brienne of Tarth, just the way you are," he said, and a tear ran down her cheek. He kissed it, and it tasted of salt and earth and everything she was, and he thought his heart might burst.
Jaime Lannister had lived his whole life for those he loved. For his father, for Tyrion, for Cersei. And now, he was loved back, in the same way, in the same kind, and he'd found a kindred soul, who loved the same things and didn't think Kingslayer every time she looked at him. Didn't think dishonor and mistrust and Lannister. She thought of him as just Jaime. As just hers.
He didn't want to think about what might happen when Gerald came back. For now, Brienne was naked and he was in her bed, and that was all the thinking he wanted to do. He touched her hip with his good hand and traced up her waistline to her breast, twisting her nipple gently between his fingertips. She moaned and arched her mouth toward his, and he kissed her.
When she was lying beneath him, again he was grateful for the nearness in their heights, because it gave him just the right angle to slip his fingers into the blonde curls at the apex of her thighs, to slip two fingers inside her and feel her arch beneath him again. He freed himeslf from his breeches, thinking that although he'd love this to last all morning there was no way he'd make it that far, after six months of wanting her from afar, and when he slid up inside of her all he could think was Brienne, Brienne, Brienne, Princess of Tarth, my maiden, my warrior, and they came together and apart, together and apart and she cried out his name when she came, not Kingslayer but Jaime, and it brought him over too, and when he was done he kissed her shoulder and whispered that he loved her, his warrior, and prayed she'd always be his.