Author's Note: Thanks for sticking around!
To jbfangirl: No famous last words, sorry. That story will go on and on and on for a long while ;P I'm a slow-boiling romance author.
I hope you'll enjoy ;)
Much to Jaime's relief, Brienne was neither greatly injured, nor did she tell him to leave Tarth the following day. While it was a bit tensed right after the Night of the Lynx, Brienne seemingly forgave him deep in her heart, though of course he has to put up with some jabs and comments coming his way. However, Jaime understands that this is only fair. He really hurt her, so it's Brienne's good right to seek a little revenge.
Yet, this didn't save him from a lecture by his younger brother when the younger Lannister forced Jaime to sit with him and explain it to him. Tyrion obviously didn't buy the story that Brienne and he had heard a bunch of burglars roaming around the castle, had followed the men, only to get lost in the woods, and Brienne falling over some root, resulting in her injury. Jaime rarely saw Tyrion that angry with him. As curious as it is to be lectured by your younger sibling, he understood that Tyrion is simply fond of Brienne and can't stand the thought of having her sad or hurt.
When Jaime confessed to him the real circumstances of the night, he knew he had the slap in the back of the head coming – and he deserved it, too. Tyrion, enraged, pointed out to him that if he were Brienne, he would have cast him out of Tarth forever. At some point Jaime still asks himself what got into him to take his mind to that cobweb he started to weave that night.
However, Brienne gladly seems to be more forgiving than Tyrion, which is why she soon admitted Jaime back into her life and her heart, which is why the two are now sitting on the bed in her room, their upper bodies lying flat on the mattress, while their legs dangle over the foot of the bed. After they spent a good hour reading, both were rather tired. Night already drew close, and the room shines in the vibrant shades of orange of the candlelight.
It is their last evening here on Tarth. Tyrion and Selwyn reached an agreement about the trading routes, and Father expects them back as soon as possible. In the letter he let them know that Jaime is supposed to come to King's Landing, which is a sure hint that he will soon be able to don the white.
And even though neither one said it out loud, there seems to be an unspoken agreement that this will likely be the last night that they will be two youths roaming around each other's rooms as though it was nothing. The next time they will see each other, if they see each other again, they will likely not be children anymore. In a strange sense, Jaime's stay on Tarth made him realize his shift to adulthood more prominently than did any fight he undertook to become a knight before.
"Fine, I got one!" Jaime says.
"Go ahead," Brienne replies.
"Whats black when you get it, red when you use it, and white when you throw it away?" Jaime questions. At some point they just started to ask each other riddle questions.
"... Charcoal?" Brienne says. Jaime leans his head back, "Darn, I thought I'd get you with this one."
"My life can be measured in hours. I serve by being devoured. Thin I am quick. Fat I am slow. Wind is my foe. What am I?" Brienne says.
"A candle, that one's really old," Jaime rolls his eyes. "This is tiring."
"Alright, one last one?" Brienne suggests.
"Spill already," Jaime exhales.
"Say my name and I disappear," she puckers her lips. Jaime frowns, contemplating.
"I don't know, a spy if you spot him?" Jaime suggests.
"No," she shakes her head.
"Me when they catch me misbehaving?" Jaime chuckles softly.
"Not quite," Brienne chuckles."Last guess."
"That old dog who lives in the town? Whenever I yell his name, he hobbles away," the Lannister boy puckers his lips.
"No, and that is because you call him Bello. His name is Cricket," Brienne replies.
"Fine, I give up, you win. What disappears if I say its name?" Jaime exhales.
"Silence," she shrugs.
"Ahhhh... the dog's name is Cricket, really?!" Jaime huffs. Brienne nudges him in the side playfully.
"What do we do next?" she asks.
"Hm, I got a question for you," Jaime hums. "A real one."
"If it has to be," she snorts.
"Who was your first?" he asks after a while, leaning on his elbows.
"My first what? First teacher, first septa, first…," Brienne runs down the list as she leans on her elbows as well.
"The first man you let close," Jaime explains.
"I'm a maiden. You know that, Blondie Curl," she says, giving him a nudge in the side.
"Of course, but who was your first? Your first kiss? Hm? C'mon, you can tell me," Jaime winks, his voice teasing. He knows it's a bit risky after the Night of the Lynx, but... he just has to ask, for some reason.
"Who was yours?" she returns, but then stops herself. "No, don't answer that, I already know."
"It wasn't Cersei," Jaime corrects her.
"No?" she frowns.
"Her name was Milny. Long hair, brown eyes, missed a tooth right in the front. She sold fruit right in front of our castle… though fruit wasn't the only thing she had to offer. Four pennies for a kiss," Jaime chuckles.
"A groat for a kiss? Was it worth the money at least?" Brienne grins.
"Not really. She tried her best, I'm sure, but… nah, not really worth the groat, no," Jaime shakes his head. She chuckles. Jaime sits up, "So now: Who was yours? Who managed the impossible? And I mean a real kiss, on the lips, not the cheek or the forehead."
Brienne copies his movement, folding her long fingers in her lap, "Oh… his name was… Tobin."
"Tobin who?" Jaime questions.
"I don't know. I never asked. We knew each other only shortly - because we met on one of the voyages my Father took me along with. He was no royal, so maybe he didn't even have a last name," Brienne shrugs.
"How old?" Jaime keeps interrogating her.
"I was… six. He was seven, I think," Brienne grimaces.
"How did it happen?" the Lannister boy asks.
"We just… did. I don't know. We played together and after some time… we just… did," Brienne shrugs her broad shoulders.
"Was it good?" the lad asks.
"I couldn't complain as far as I can remember," she replies sheepishly. Jaime tilts his head from right to left, seemingly contemplating.
"Oh, so that means Brienne of Tarth did not have her first kiss yet. I am shocked," he says at last, grabbing his chest.
"What? I just told you that I did, Goldie Curl!" she argues vehemently.
"You are probably the worst liar I have ever met, wench. You would know his name, his family, his personal history. You never played with boys, you pushed them into the dust. And sure as hell the performance of an seven year old boy is anything but satisfactory. You made this up," Jaime grins at her mischievously.
"What does it matter if I did?" Brienne mutters, puckering her lips. Did he really expect a boy to have kissed her already? Please, she's too ugly for that - and too set on beating the boys into the ground.
"You lied to me," Jaime replies, feigning disappointment.
"Then fine, I didn't kiss anyone yet. So what?" she asks, feeling embarrassed and annoyed.
"So what? So what? You are Lady, and no one kissed you properly yet! That's a scandal!" Jaime cries out with fake exasperation.
"I will be if… once I am married," Brienne argues.
That she marries one day, Brienne knows, is set into stone. It's not a question of whether or not she will marry one day, the question is only when that will be, hopefully later than sooner, however.
"That could be quite some time until. After your third betrothal, I think some men are honestly intimidated," Jaime wrinkles his nose.
"Well, that's good, isn't it?" the girl shrugs. "That's what we agreed on."
"But you must have kissed by now. You are already a woman, Brienne!" Jaime insists.
Because he is not the only one who transgressed from one state to the next. Brienne grew up as well, in fact, she was always ahead of him, which means that she is closer to adulthood than him for a longer time already.
"If I gave a single thing on social expectations, I wouldn't be the person I am," she argues.
"What if you are awful at it?" Jaime retorts.
"What if my next husband is?" she huffs, unwittingly playing into Jaime's hands with the argument.
"Exactly!" he agrees with a grin. "You can't know if he'll be a bad kisser. And then you'll best stuck to the end of your days without a single proper kiss. That's unacceptable. In any book you have given me, whenever people kiss, it's a good kiss."
"And as we had to painfully realize, we don't live in stories after all," she exhales.
Just as she is no princess who is saved my some prince.
Just as Tywin is no good Lord and father to Jaime, the way it always is in the stories.
Just as a small Lord is not treated with due respect.
Just as there are knights without true honour after all.
Just as a sister can be so much more than it should ever be.
Just as roses are not given to a lady, but thrown into the dust.
Just as old men try to teach a young girl a woman's place, with force if he has to.
No, as much as Brienne would love to believe it, still, life is no fairytale.
"Sadly not," Jaime agrees solemnly.
Because in a fairytale, he never would have made that much of a foolish mistake as he did when he searched for a falling star.
Suddenly, Jaime inches closer, but she already has her hand in his side to prevent him from coming any closer, "What do you think are you doing, Lannister?"
"I could kiss you," he says, his voice small, the smile softer now, though it still holds a bit of mockery.
"For how many groats?" Brienne retorts, narrowing her eyes.
"Nah, you'd get it for free," Jaime grins.
"That price is still too damn high," she huffs.
He kisses her without a warning. Brienne stares at him, growing red over both cheeks. She pushes him away, "Jaime!"
She pushes hard enough so that Jaime's upper body falls to the other side of the bed. He straightens back up, rubbing his side, "Ow, that was rough!"
"How dare you?" she cries out, screwing her eyes shut.
"I may add that you are not the worst kisser. In fact, you are surprisingly good at it. Maybe I owe you a groat now," Jaime chuckles.
"Blondie Curl!" Brienne shrieks.
"Fine, fine, seriously now. Hear me out," Jaime holds up his hands in surrender.
"Speak," she growls, her eyes narrow slits.
"Now you can always keep in mind that you got your first kiss from someone you like, or well, don't always hate. We both know that this is not always the case when a man marries a woman. They are hardly friends. If they even know each other," Jaime tells her, now a little more truthfully. "Ser Humfrey is only one proof for my argument, you know that."
She glares at him, but then her features drop somewhat.
"You were… my first," she repeats, tilting her head, the information seeping into her brain slowly but surely. She is so lost in thought that she doesn't realize it that he turns her shoulder to him to bring their lips together another time.
"And your second," he grins, pressing another kiss on her lips. "And your third."
She shoves him away again, "What was that for?"
Jaime chuckles softly, but drifts closer to her once more.
"For all the men who already could have stolen a kiss from your lips, but were so foolish not to," he whispers, nudging his nose against her cheek with eyes closed.
Both get lost in that fleeting moment of in-betweenness which will be over soon enough, will fly away like a bird.
Brienne just looks at him as he presses another kiss to her lips, longer this time.
"And for the one who was too foolish to do it when he offered a marriage and did not mean it… during the Night of the Lynx."
Jaime and Tyrion depart from Tarth the following morning. Lord Selwyn embraces them both the way a father would, wishing them both the very best - and tells Jaime specifically to stay safe, now as a man of the Kingsguard.
The goodbye with Brienne is filled with the usual empty phrases all are obliged to utter - and some bickering, of course.
The daughter of Tarth hugs Tyrion fiercely, urging him to write her once he returns, to which he only agrees.
Brienne and Jaime embrace each other only briefly, because they already said their goodbyes in private before, and sealed them with a secret kiss.
Both know that all of it will stay in that chamber.
Both know that it might be the last time that they see each other.
And surprisingly enough, it doesn't sting as badly as either one feared it would. In fact, they are calm, composed, ready.
Because they are sure of that one thing: That their friendship will survive no matter the circumstance. This small journey to and on Tarth showed it again.
"You will write to me."
"Always."
"Goodbye, Jaime."
"Goodbye, Brienne."