Jaime woke with a start, a sharp pain in his stomach. It took him a few disoriented seconds to realise that Brienne was flailing in her sleep and had managed to dig her elbow quite deep into Jaime's organs. Wincing, he poked her with his stump while he adjusted so that he could pull his left hand from under her. Freeing it did not wake her as he hoped. "Brienne," Jaime hissed, shaking her shoulder, his arm at an awkward position. "Wake up, love."

This was the second time that he'd been woken by her nightmares. Jaime wondered how she coped when she was alone. He felt an uncomfortable squirm where her elbow had connected with his stomach, the way he always felt when he considered having sent her out to find Sansa alone. She finally woke with a gasp. Jaime leaned away, not wanting to scare her, or have her headbutt him.

She did rise quite quickly, grasping the sheets and looking around desperately. "Hey, hey," Jaime said, laying his good hand on her shoulder. "You're okay. Everything is okay. I'm here." She responded to that by capturing his lips with her own. Surprised, Jaime took a few seconds to respond to her, but, when he did, he tangled his hand in her hair and allowed her to push him back against the headframe, straddling him. "Brienne," he gasped between kisses.

"Want you," she muttered, bending to kiss his neck, and, if the kiss hadn't already had him fully hard, that did. Neither of them had gone to sleep clothed. Jaime reached between Brienne's legs to stroke her ready, assuming that her nightmare had sent her desperate for contact rather than aroused her. He soon put that right. She groaned noisily into his hair, grinding on his fingers. "Enough," she said quickly, batting his hand away. Jaime pulled away and used the same hand to cup her cheek and bring her close to him for another kiss. She reached down between them and fit him inside her.

They groaned mutually. Jaime hoped she started waking him up for this in the middle of the night more often. They were undoubtedly waking their neighbours but Jaime did not give a single fuck. He met each roll of her hips with a thrust of his own. "More, more," she moaned, scratching her nails down his back, making Jaime's hairs stand on end and his balls tighten. "Want you to fuck me," she panted against his neck.

"That's what we're doing, sweetling," Jaime ground out, driving his cock into her as best he could from his position. Brienne shook her head and made eye contact with him. Jaime knew what she wanted immediately. He nodded urgently. She whined as she pulled herself from his dick and shifted to lie back against the pillows.

"Hold your legs back against your chest," Jaime ordered. Brienne nodded hurriedly and did as he said. Jaime licked the sweat from her cheek and then kissed her as he thrust inside her, groaning into her mouth. She screeched against his lips.

Their mouths mashed together inelegantly in the effort for more contact, more touch, more love. Her teeth smashed against his mouth and Jaime loved it, matching it with the bruising attack on her cunt, his hand gripping the headboard to keep him upright.

"Jaime, more, more, yes, yes," Brienne chanted, her eyes closed, her back arched. Jaime pounded her, desperate to make her come, to explode beneath him. "Fuck, yes, oh fuck, Jaime, fuck, yes. So good, Jaime, so good."

"Fuck, Brienne, touch yourself," Jaime panted. "Fuck, I'm so close. Touch yourself." She groaned, thrusting her hips down onto his, grabbing his other arm and using his stump to rub against her clit. "Oh, fuck, I love you so fucking much, fuck, fuck, Brienne, I'm not gonna last much longer, fuck, is that good?"

"Yes, yes, yes, Jaime," she keened, dragging out his name as she masturbated herself with Jaime's stump. It was the best thing Jaime had ever experienced, complete acceptance from the love of his life. It made him drive into her harder, desperate to make this incredible woman scream his name, before he screamed hers. "So good, Jaime, so fucking good."

And then she came with a scream of Jaime's name, wrapping her legs around his waist and trapping his arm between them as she rode out her orgasm against him. "Come, love, come," Brienne pleaded, cupping his cheek, tears slipping down her cheeks from the force of her orgasm. With three thrusts, Jaime let himself go with a roar of her name, capturing her face with his hand and pulling her in for a bruising kiss.

When he pulled away and collapsed against her, her shaking legs fell from around his waist, though he did not move from on top of her. "You're so fucking good," she panted, lacing her fingers with his. "Jaime, you're so-" Jaime cut her off with a kiss. "I love you," Brienne groaned, still rubbing her hips against his as she got over her orgasm.

Jaime laughed breathily. "You inspire me."

She groaned out loud again. "Fuck, that was so good. I'm so glad I get to marry you."

"For my cock?" Jaime said, amused. She hummed in agreement and Jaime laughed, finally rolling off her. She whined. "I don't think I've ever made you scream quite so loud. The whole of Winterfell is going to be glaring at us at breakfast."

"Worth it," Brienne moaned, rubbing her thighs together. Evidence of their coupling spread between them. Jaime chuckled, knowing that Brienne would likely not think it was worth it when they received dirty comments in the hall. "I've never- that hard. I thought I was going to pass out."

"I thought you were too. Fuck, Brienne, that was so good."

"I love you," Brienne said, reaching down to stroke her pussy. Jaime chuckled.

"Sore?"

"Always," she teased and Jaime grinned at how carefree she was after sex. "I doubt I'll be able to walk in the morning. That's four times you've fucked me in less than eight hours I think."

"Next week, I'm going to beat that," Jaime swore, kissing her temple. They lay back on the pillows, Brienne pulling their duvet back over them. Jaime cuddled into her side the way he had on their first night in bed together. "What was your dream about?" he asked against the side of her breast.

Brienne hummed lightly and shook her head. "Silly stuff. I just wanted to feel your love." Jaime shook his head and leaned his head up so that she would lean hers down to kiss him. He pressed his lips to hers sweetly, innocently. He was sure that he didn't want to know what her dream had been exactly about, but he was fairly certain that he had featured, and likely Cersei and Tyrion too.

"I love you," Jaime said simply. "Now sleep, wench, or I'm liable to think I've not tired you out enough." She chuckled lowly and shuffled down lower on the bed. She pressed their foreheads together and looked into his eyes intensely before kissing him once.

"I love you."

XXX

"There he is, the blushing groom!"

Jaime groaned. He had walked into the tent he had been avoiding since coming to Winterfell, preferring the warm, sex-filled chambers that he shared with Brienne, to find Bronn and Tyrion, already halfway into a bottle of wine, by the looks of things.

"Don't groan, Jaime," Tyrion cajoled merrily. "It's the eve before your wedding. You simply must get pissed or it will be bad luck."

Jaime levelled a glare at his younger brother. "I think it will be worse luck should I arrive at the wedding tomorrow with a hangover. My wife is likely to run me through." Bronn snickered and did not stop when Jaime turned his glare onto him.

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "Come along, Jaime. A few drinks, a game or two. What harm can be done?" Jaime set his jaw. A lot of harm.

"Two drinks and one game," he acquiesced, pointing a finger between the two as menacingly as he could. They shared a wicked grin and Jaime felt dread settle in his stomach. He took a seat on the worst chair in his own tent. "What game are we playing then?"

Ten minutes later, Jaime regretted asking the question. "You made the first move with Brienne," Tyrion said, jabbing him in the chest with one of his chubby little fingers. Raising his eyes to the ceiling, Jaime drank.

"You have never made the first move with Sansa," Jaime returned, gesturing at Tyrion with his stump while he drank again from the goblet in his other hand. Bronn roared with laughter. Jaime grinned.

Tyrion hesitated. "Does asking to stay in her room count?" Jaime and Bronn shared a look and then looked back at Tyrion, eyebrows raised. "I'll drink."

"You prefer having your wife on top," Bronn said crudely to Jaime. Jaime quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Are we lowering the tone so soon?" Jaime asked.

Bronn rolled his eyes. "You once said I lower the tone the second I step into a room."

"And I stand by that statement."

"Just drink, Lannister."

Jaime did drink.

"I can't believe you're getting married, Jaime," Tyrion slurred about two hours and a lot more than two drinks later. "I truly never thought you would."

"I am sorry to disappoint, brother," Jaime said, hoping he didn't sound anywhere near as drunk as Tyrion. Tyrion pffed at him and waved his hand.

"I always wanted you to get married and out from under Cersei's cunt," Tyrion said, making Jaime wince. "I thought I would have to watch you get fucked over for the rest of our lives."

"Now you just get to watch him get fucked," Bronn quipped, making Jaime groan and put his head on the table. "I bet the sex is fucking incredible. I cannot believe you've given up a night of fucking in the name of fucking tradition."

Jaime couldn't really believe it either. And nor could Brienne when he told her. When he'd explained the tradition element and him wanting to do things right, a smile had played about her lips, half-amused, half-happy, and Jaime had taken it as approval. He just wanted to be able to tell their kids one day that they had done it properly, a romantic tale that they could coo over, that his daughters would expect from their husbands-to-be. Jaime smiled stupidly and explained this to Bronn and Tyrion.

Bronn spluttered his drink. "You're gonna have babes with her?"

Jaime wasn't sure if he should be affronted or not, so he was. He leaned back in his chair, lolling his head to the side. "Of course I'm gonna have babes with her. Why?" he demanded.

Tyrion groaned. "They're going to be fucking huge."

This time Jaime truly was annoyed. He staggered out of his chair and put his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Have a bit of respect," he spat. Bronn chuckled and Jaime turned his ire on him too.

"Okay, with that, I'm gonna go and find a whore to fuck. Tyrion?"

Tyrion wriggled out of the chair and followed Bronn to where he stood by the flap of the tent, leaving Jaime gaping at the pair of them. When had he allowed himself to get this drunk? "Jaime," Tyrion's voice said from the door. Jaime stumbled a bit closer to his brother. "I truly am so happy for you."

Jaime felt his smile stretch his face before the words truly resonated. "And I for you," Jaime said, tapping Tyrion's cheek forcefully with the palm of his hand. Tyrion pushed him away lightly and Jaime snickered.

"See you in the sept," his brother said with a wink, following Bronn out.

The sept, Jaime thought, collapsing back onto the bed. The sept where Brienne would walk towards him and he would be hers forever.

XXX

A few hours earlier …

"My lady," Brienne had said in surprise when Sansa had turned up outside her chambers with Queen Daenerys, Arya and Missandei. Sansa had given her a big smile and had come in. Half an hour later, they were all lounging on some surface, having odd sorts of mixtures applied to their faces by some of Queen Daenerys' handmaidens.

"This is what the Naathi do the night before their weddings," Missandei had said quietly to Brienne when the handmaidens had walked in with their towels and perfumes and ointments. "The Queen asked me what she should do to make your wedding eve pleasant." Brienne was touched by the thought, although she had wanted to simply collapse and sleep until she was married to Jaime.

"Are you excited to be wed, Brienne?" Arya asked from her position by the window, blowing on her fingernails. The handmaidens had applied some sort of mixture to her nails that Daenerys said originated in Qarth. Arya's were dark black. They were doing Brienne's as they spoke, pure red, Jaime's colour. She was struggling not to think of what Jaime would think of it when her hands were wrapped around his cock the next evening.

Arya grinned wickedly as Brienne's blush rose. Brienne ignored her. "Not much is going to change, Arya," Brienne replied. She'd called Arya "lady" in front of Daenerys when they'd first arrived but Arya had cut that off immediately, reminding Brienne it was her wedding eve, not a small council meeting.

"I'm sure it's not, from what Jon said he woke up to last night." Brienne flushed furiously. She had heard the gossip as soon as she entered the dining hall in the morning. At the time, she had cared only for having Jaime as close to her as possible. With hindsight, she considered she really needed to start being a little quieter. Brienne's brow furrowed as she realised something.

"Aren't Jon's rooms two corridors away?"

"Yep," Arya replied simply, popping an olive into her mouth. Brienne wished her nails were not getting painted so that she could cover her face with her hands. Jaime would find this hilarious, so Brienne tried to channel that, with little success. She couldn't stop trying to remember what she had said, what Jaime had said, how long it had gone on for.

"At least you know you're compatible," Sansa added. Brienne turned angry eyes to her liege. When Sansa joined in, Brienne knew she was in for it. Sansa chuckled and Brienne wished she was quick-thinking enough to make a clever quip about Tyrion that Queen Daenerys would not catch on to. She wished Jaime were here. He would be able to think of something quickly. He'd also probably enjoy getting his nails painted. Perhaps she would keep some of the red paint and do it.

"Sorry, what are you putting on my face?" Brienne heard Arya say with disgust. One of the dragon queen's handmaidens was standing before her with the innocuous white mixture that they had put on Brienne's face, which had hardened slightly uncomfortably.

The handmaiden glanced at Missandei, who translated the question and then the handmaiden's response. "It is honey, lemon, baking soda and oil, my lady."

Arya wrinkled her nose at Missandei, likely because of the title more than the natural ingredients, then gave the handmaiden an assessing look. "Not too much, okay?" she said, closing her eyes and flexing her hands to dry her nails. Brienne wished there were some way to capture this moment forever.

Brienne turned to her companion on the bed, Sansa, who was giggling. She had a oaty mask on her face and one of the handmaidens was brushing through her spectacular auburn hair. "Are you enjoying yourself?" Sansa asked quietly. Brienne nodded. "I know it isn't really your thing, but the queen suggested it and I thought it would be relaxing at the least." It wasn't truly relaxing, if Brienne was honest. Social interaction never was, but it was enjoyable. She didn't hate it.

"Lady Sansa," the dragon queen spoke up from her position on the chaise longue. It was quite disconcerting seeing all of these highborn ladies sitting in places that Jaime had fucked her. Sansa hummed at the queen, distracted by the offers of nail colouring that the handmaiden was offering her, having finished with Brienne.

"I'll have that grey, please," Sansa said, pointing to a very Stark grey, predictably. "Yes, your grace?"

"I just wondered whether you had given any thought to marrying again. You are a very attractive prospect as the Lady of Winterfell." Brienne felt Sansa freeze very suddenly. The bed rose as her muscles rose from it, taut with anxiety. Brienne wanted to reach across and lay her hand on Sansa's arm, that she may take some comfort, but her nails were still wet and Sansa's were being painted. Arya was looking over at them with alarm, an amusing sight given the white mask coating her skin.

"I would not marry another man, your grace," Sansa said smoothly, as though she were not tight with nerves at the prospect, as though it were merely a wish that she would remain unmarried - or not married to another man, Brienne noted she had said. She was perfectly willing to marry Tyrion again, of course.

"You had such a bad experience, my lady?"

Sansa nodded tightly. "I am sure I do not need to go into the details of my second marriage, your grace." The queen nodded with an understanding that made Brienne wonder if Sansa were the only lady in this room to have horrific experiences.

"I did not know you had been married twice," the queen commented lightly.

"Yes, after Lord Tyrion, I was forced to marry again."

"You were married to Lord Tyrion?" Queen Daenerys said with alarm. Brienne's eyes widened but she looked down at her nails. She could not imagine why Tyrion had not shared that piece of information with the queen.

Sansa did not sound surprised, though she surely was. "Yes, I was a child and he was forced by his father. It was unconsummated and annulled."

Brienne chanced a look up at Daenerys, who nodded once. "I cannot imagine why Lord Tyrion would not tell me."

Sansa shrugged her shoulders gracefully. "Perhaps he thought you would think his priorities were out of order," she said lightly. Brienne shot her a look which she ignored. "Will you ever get married again, your grace?" Sansa asked, turning the question back on the dragon queen. Brienne had a feeling Sansa was in dangerous territory here.

Daenerys let out a tinkling laugh, though, not an angry glare. "I will have to see, Lady Sansa. The position of my husband is hotly contested and difficult to earn, I assure you. My experiences with my first wedding were - not ideal but I made the best of them, which I would do with another marriage."

Brienne wondered whether she would marry Jon, whether his status as a bastard made him "not ideal". Sansa's tight smile made Brienne think she was thinking the same. Brienne closed her eyes and enjoyed the odd tight feeling on her skin. This time tomorrow, she and Jaime would be locked in these chambers and would not have to leave all week if they did not want to. The thought almost made her smile. She took a steadying breath. She was getting married.