"What do you love most about your brother?"
"Why are we talking about him right now?" Jaime's lips moved up her neck.
"I want to know. I want..." she sighed as his mouth pulled at her skin, "I want to be able to remember."
He sat back and regarded her, his right arm stroking the curve of her ass, and up her hip. "His wit. He didn't always use it for good, but he had a sharp wit that could get him out of almost anything. Before that, he was an innocent once. He was my little brother and I loved him. Cersei didn't, and our father wouldn't, but I loved him. Myrcella and Tommen loved him, too. Though I wonder if that was because he was on their level." He smirked as she flicked water at him and he caught her hand.
"I'm serious."
"So am I." He kissed her damp knuckles and settled her hand on his shoulder before following a mass of water droplets with his fingers down her arm, dipping into the water to grip her thigh and encourage her to resume their activity. She leaned forward and kissed him, her hips moving in circles over him. Then she pressed into his shoulders and leaned back away from his hungry mouth as she rocked against him, driving him deeper into her as the water of the tub rose and fell with her. When she lifted up, her breasts would peek out of the water only to sink down again. He desperately wanted to take one of her nipples into his mouth to give her more pleasure, but restrained himself for fear that he would manage to drown before he'd seen her to completion one last time. He grunted her name as she rolled her hips against him.
The water sloshed faster and her moans were losing their rhythm. "Lean back further," he rasped, "I won't let you fall." She released his shoulders one at a time, moving her hands behind her in the water to his clasp his knees, and his hand braced her back. He knew from experience that this angle would throw her into a frenzy and, with his own end near, he had to act fast. She ground her hips into his with abandon and he took advantage of the new gap between their upper bodies to slide his marred wrist to where she needed it most.
When she came apart this time it was slower than all other times, as if she was purposely drawing it out to make the moment last as long as possible. It started in her core where he felt her tremble. The vibrations then expanded up and into her chest, convulsing in the water, her grip on his knees tightening. When it reached her throat and she called out his name it sounded like a wail of anguish. And when her eyes rolled back and he saw her entire body contract, he pulled her upright, her arms splashing water onto the stones as they flew up to his neck. He thrust up knowing that her walls were about to wring him to ecstasy, and he didn't want to drop her when that happened. With a final plunge he was crying her name into her chest, her body shuddering uncontrollably against his, his wrist glued to her nub where he could feel her heart pounding in synchrony with his as they shook in each other's arms, the water pulsing around them.
They had spent the last two days in their chamber, separating only when absolutely necessary. His body had been entwined with hers for hours as he counted the freckles on each shoulder and they found each and every diminutive scar on their bodies and kissed them away. She had melded with him incessantly, their need for each other never sated. They had laid claim to every part of each other's anatomy, memorizing every line - the ridge on his nose, the port wine stain hiding beneath her hair, the calluses on their hands and feet, and the taste of her sweat and the curve of his cock. But this was the first time he had felt completely spent inside of her, as if he had nothing more to give.
She dropped her hands to his chest and her head down fell onto his shoulder with a whimper and she proceeded the way she'd done ever since the plans had been made, and whispered her prayers to the seven, begging every one of them to keep him safe even as she struggled to catch her breath. Outside the locked bathhouse door, the sky had brightened, highlighting the cracks above and below. It was time.
"Brienne."
She clutched him, sucking in a breath, knowing what he was about to say. She lifted her head and met his eyes, shaking her head. He wrapped both arms around her middle and held her close.
"If I told you to stay here with me, would you?"
"Yes," He said without hesitation.
She swallowed, but didn't say the words. She brought her hands up to cup his face and kissed him gently, daring herself to skirt the flames of her unabating love for him. The kiss felt like a goodbye, the sweetest and most painful goodbye they'd ever had. She hated it, but she could not survive without it. He dragged his arms up her ribs and brought his hands up to her face, tucking wet tresses behind her ears, running his thumb along her lips one last time.
They slowly untangled their bodies and he climbed out of the tub. The Winterfell bathhouse was kept warm by the hot springs, but it was still winter outside and the air froze the water on his skin. As they'd planned, Brienne remained in the tub. She stayed submerged to her neck watching him don his layers. The hand would be the trickiest part, but he needed to reacclimate to doing that for himself again, so she watched as he fumbled and finally pulled the contraption together. It might have made her laugh to mis-buckle his jerkin twice if she weren't so outrageously glad that the mistakes were keeping him present with her longer.
Jaime did his best to clothe himself without looking back at the tub. They had agreed that he would dress and head straight for the yard. His saddlebags were already packed, and Alten's men would be ready to move just after dawn. She'd wanted to see him off, but he couldn't stand the thought of seeing her getting further away from him as had happened so many times already. By leaving the bathhouse before her, he could be assured that his last sight of her would be more intimate, and make for an easier separation. But as he strapped on his sword belt and donned his cloak he could feel those beautiful eyes dragging him back.
"If I kiss you again, I will wind up back in that tub."
"I know."
"Do you recall...remember when I forced you to spar with me that first time in King's Landing?"
"You dragged me, but you didn't force me."
He nodded. "That was so long ago. My feelings for you didn't make sense to me yet, but that was the first time that all of my introspections finally funneled into one seamless thought - I wanted to kiss you then," he said with an ache, "Your hair was in disarray from our fight and even though I'd finally bested you, your eyes were smiling. Instead of kissing you, I…" he flexed his hand, remembering.
She stood in the water and moved to the side closest to him. "You pressed my hand. And it was like…"
'Fire," they said in unison.
"I love you, Brienne. Don't-" he cut off her reply, "don't say it. I know it, but don't say it. Let it be the first thing I hear when I see you again." He unlocked the bathhouse door and, with a final glance at her watering eyes, he was gone, and Brienne let her tears fall into the water.
She waited a few minutes before she could be sure that he was away, and she climbed out of the tub. She donned her linens and a long quilted black wrap that made her appear both somewhat suitably dressed, as well as in mourning. Taking a deep breath, she exited the bathhouse and made for the east wing, crossing the yard on the side of the castle that was furthest from the stables, ensuring that she would not meet Jaime or any of those departing en route. But as she dipped out of the courtyard and into the hall, her thoughts taken up with whatever might be happening just outside the castle gates, she bumped headlong into the chest of Tormund Giantsbane.
"Ser!" he said with a clap on her shoulder. "Why are you not in the yard to say goodbye to your lover?"
Her face and throat turned red as she met the wildling's gaze. "My husband and I parted earlier. We thought it would be easier."
"Hrrmmph," he grunted knowingly, "And is it?"
"What?"
"Easier?"
"That's...he's well away now, and I'm making for my chamber, excuse me."
He kept his hand on her shoulder. "I mean no offense. I only wonder...why not go with him?"
"My place is with Lady Sansa. I swore my sword to her and I will protect her should danger come again to Winterfell," Brienne recited, her heart aching.
"Didn't you make vows with your man as well? The free folk say no vows, but all you southerners do, don't you?"
"Yes, we did. But those vows are not the only important ones." But they are the most important ones to me, she thought.
"So you would let your man go. It's not easy. I had a woman once, beyond the wall. When she went away, it was pure torture."
"Yes," she confessed, "parting with Jaime has never been easy."
"It hurts. Inside."
She thought of their previous partings - all the times she'd ridden or floated away from him - "Yes, as if...as if a part of me is being pulled away slowly and then ripped out."
"Like an axe."
"I...suppose that could be true."
"I could protect her, you know," the bearded man appeared to say almost slyly.
"...Your woman?"
Tormund let out a gravely laugh, throwing his head back, "No, lady. I believe that woman is dead. No I meant the she-wolf. I can protect her. And her strange brother. There will be other soldiers too. And the fat man - Sam - he was a crow before, he's not good, but he's not useless either."
Brienne gave him a puzzled look, something Tormund was all too familiar with.
"I will protect the little wolves. You should go protect your lion."
It finally dawned on Brienne that he was suggesting she go. Since being denied the first time, it hadn't occurred to Brienne to ride south with her husband. "Why...why would you have me do that? You've never liked him."
Tormund shrugged, "I've seen the way you look at each other. He's good for you. And he would do the same for you. If you tried to go without him, no one would be able to stop him."
"I can't...I can't forsake my oath to Lady Sansa."
"You're not. The wolves will be safe with me. The lion needs as many friends as he can get."
It was a risk going toward the capital. But if he was taking it, why shouldn't she? They'd spent so many years apart dismissing their feelings even when they were together, now that they had one another how could she allow a fear of Cersei to drive the miles between them. And that was it - if she stayed, it was another win for Cersei.
It's perfectly reckless
"I…" she furrowed her brow at the wildling, who looked like a child who'd just gotten his way at something. "I think you're right?" she said slowly, "I think I must go."
He clapped her shoulder again with a smile, "Good, good. Go gather your boots and sword. Your horse is waiting. I have another cloak you can wear."
"You...you were in my...you did what? How would you know that I-"
"I told you - you look at each other like starving dogs. Now go - hurry - the army will be leaving soon and we need to get you in the front so that your man doesn't see you and try to stop you. I had one of my men cause a distraction but we only have a few more minutes. Come to the side gate."
With a huff, Brienne ran down the hall until she reached her chamber. She kicked off the woolen slippers and pulled on stockings and riding boots. She looked about the chamber for signs of their life there, but most were gone, Jaime having taken his few belongings, and hers having been scooped up by the wildling. Her armor was nowhere to be found and that bothered her more than anything, but she had to trust that it had been taken with the rest. She pulled on her jerkin and settled her sword belt on her hip. Then she wrapped the long black cloak around her again, hiding the attire, and returned to the yard below.
Behind the smithy, Tormund was waiting with her horse, saddlebags packed with surprising efficiency, with everything that had been laid out on the tables in their room, and her clothes neatly bundled.
"My armor?"
The wildling grinned widely. "There is a barrel in one of the supply carts - the one with the rations - marked with a lion. My men said that's the worst of the piss so no one will think to break it open before you get to it." She grinned back at him and handed him her wrap. He traded it for a long slate grey hooded cape lined with wool which would repel rain, keep her warm, and hide her figure on the horse.
Before she mounted, Tormund handed her a long grey woolen shawl to wrap about her face and hair to keep her masked should the hood be blown back. She wrapped herself and climbed up, then reached down to put a hand on the wildling's shoulder. "I do not know how to thank you...what will you tell Lady Sansa?"
He shrugged, "Who do you think packed these bags?" He looked up at the balcony that overlooked the yard and Brienne followed his eyes to where Sansa stood watching over them with a knowing smirk. Brienne's mouth fell open, though no one would have seen it with the scarf now in place. Eyes wide, she turned back to Tormund who was grinning at her. "I never said it was me who was in your chamber. The wolf is smart. And she listens. When I told her that your mind would be elsewhere if you stayed, she agreed. Your man is only thinking to protect you. But you're better together, right?"
She looked back up to Sansa who was smiling down at her, and they nodded at one another. "Yes."
"Quickly," came Tormund's voice from below her. "You need to get moving. Go out this gate and then head around along the southern wall. I imagine you should be able to slip in now."
"Thank you."
He shrugged, "Go fight. Win. Don't make me bring these Starks north of the wall. The lady won't like it."
Brienne smirked beneath the scarf and urged her horse forward. She followed Tormund's instructions and when she reached the head of the pack she could see that one of the wildlings had picked a fight with some of the assembled soldiers and they had upset the formation by going to fisticuffs in the midst of all the bannermen. Jaime and Gendry had waded their horses to the center with Alten on foot and were just breaking up the fight. Brienne was able to sidle her horse into their ranks at the front without notice just before the order came to march the troops south.
As the ragtag army moved beyond the gates of Winterfell, Jaime chanced a glance back at the battlements but he knew she wouldn't be there. He turned his face to the mild breeze, a promise of spring. He whispered her name to the wind and marched south with the column which unbeknownst to him now had not one but two extra riders.
Damn you leave me defenseless
A/N: I do not own Game of Throne or these characters; some dialogue may be taken verbatim from HBO's Game of Thrones or George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire. Lyrics used are directly from Halestorm's "Break In" (C) 2012.