They were walking to Sansa's solar at her requirement. There was still the topic of Jaime's occupation to begin with, and discussions about the wedding and their future. The couple had made important decisions after long talks in their chambers, and were about to reveal them to Sansa. But other matters such as Casterly Rock would have to wait until a new king or queen had been chosen. Not that Jaime was much concerned about his ancestral home, or cared about who would be the head of the Lannister house, lord of the Rock and Warden of the West. He would gladly let Tyrion do the honours. He was happy to stay with Brienne wherever she wished to settle down. Brienne wasn't either inclined towards the prospect of being the lady of a castle, not to mention one so large as the Rock. So they agreed that they'd rather lead a simple life as knights, serving deserving causes (like the oath to Lady Catelyn), and avoid other roles that didn't suit them. However, they were realistic and knew they probably wouldn't be able to avoid permanently their duties to their houses. The subject of Evenfall had been raised between them, and Brienne had concluded that she should write a message to her father. She felt ashamed to admit that she hadn't sent him any letters since her depart from Tarth to join Renly's entourage. It was time. She feared his reaction and his answer, as news spread faster than ravens across Westeros and she was sure that he wasn't pleased with most of the things that reached his ears regarding his daughter's deeds and her involvement with the Kingslayer, nothing less. He didn't know Jaime and she could only guess his prejudices against King Aerys' regicide.
Sansa greeted them animatedly and offered the usual seats in front of the desk and cups of tea.
"Ser Jaime, I'm satisfied by the reports that you're readapting well to life in the castle and it's evident that my sworn sword has recovered her lost happiness. Now, as for your occupation while your stay here, I think the best course of action is to assign you the job you've practiced since your youthful and the role you performed during your previous stay. You'd serve as a knight under Ser Brienne's command. Valuable warriors are always welcome and it wouldn't be wise to waste your skills. Serve me well and your diligence will be rewarded." Sansa paused to take a sip of her tea and they mirrored her gesture. "But on the other hand I don't forget that you descend from a great house and you might be the next lord of Casterly Rock, and Brienne is the heir to Evenfall. So I couldn't withhold you in Winterfell even if it would be my wish to have you living here. If after this transitional period you decide to depart to any of your homes, then you have my blessing. I'd miss my friend a lot, but I only wish what's best for her." Sansa's smile turned sad and Brienne held her hand, touched.
"I swore an oath to you, my lady," Brienne emphasized stubbornly, with mirth in her eyes.
"And I release you from it. I'm already very well guarded and I don't want you to feel stuck by an oath you've more than fulfilled. You're going to have family and you must think about the future of your children. I'd advice not to limit their chances. And besides, though this is my home and after my experiences I wouldn't want to live anywhere else, there are sunnier and warmer places where your offspring could grow up, like Casterly Rock and Tarth."
Brienne considered her words. "I'll take that into account, my lady. But growing up as guests in Winterfell would be a great honour." Sansa's and Jaime's simultaneous eyeroll made Brienne laugh.
"And now, the wedding. What are your plans?," Sansa asked eagerly.
Jaime and Brienne shared a glance. "My lady, I'm due to inform my father of everything and ask for his blessing, but I don't intend to make him travel so far from Tarth in the middle of winter, in this foul weather. He's growing old and I remember that before I left the island, his bones were starting to bother him. So Jaime and I have thought of a compromise. We'll first get married in the godswood by the ritual of the old gods, and later on when we are fit to visit Tarth, we'll renew our vows by the Faith of the Seven in the Sept of Evenfall." Brienne flushed a little, still overwhelmed with the radical overturn her life had taken. "I don't get my hopes up, mind me. He can be more stubborn than I am, so I expect a strong reaction from him and not precisely favourable." Her lips pursed in a thin line.
Sansa waved a hand. "I'll help you with that, my friend. I'll write him too. If your father holds any respect for the North, he'll know to take my defence of you into consideration."
Brienne inclined her head in gratitude. "Thank you, my lady. My fathers holds a great respect for your house. He'll heed your words, I have no doubt."
"Let's hope so." They took a couple more sips from their cups. "Ser Jaime, I'm awaiting news from the capital any moment. Your brother and I keep regular correspondence." At this, the young woman blushed slightly. "I assume you're aware of the goings about the election of a new ruler for Westeros." Jaime nodded. She went on. "On the other hand, my informants tell me that Euron Greyjoy has been found murdered in his longboat. He had made countless enemies and loads of people hated him, so it doesn't seem such a strange death. Anyone among his own men might have betrayed him or any wronged party might have found a way to infiltrate his ranks, who knows. But something about the description of the wounds and the crime scene ring a bell to me... I suspect it's Arya who killed him." Sansa smirked with a hard glint in her blue eyes. "I've only told you both about my suspicions, as I can't confirm anything and besides I know you won't divulge what we discuss in this chamber. But as certain as the earth we walk on, Arya has had a hand in it. I'm only too glad she's rid the world from that scumbag. She's terrifyingly lethal, you know. We've both changed so much I can hardly reconcile the girls we were years ago with what we've become."
Brienne spoke. "Life has hardened you like it hardens all of us. You and your sister have endured atrocities many wouldn't have survived. But at heart you are still good people who protect and defend the innocent and stand up against injustice. And you're true Starks; you don't let offences and attacks against your own go unpunished. Those are admirable traits."
Sansa squeezed her friend's hand. "Thank you, Brienne. I trust your word and it soothes my spirit." She finished her tea. "Tell me when you're ready to perform the godswoog wedding. However modest you wish it to be, it's an occasion to feast a little. Nothing out of the ordinary, a simple ceremony in front of the heartree with a few friends and later a reception in the main hall. You'll both need formal attire and I'm already taking care of that." Brienne opened her mouth to protest. "I know, I know, Brienne, no dress for you." Sansa giggled, purposefully obtuse. "Please, allow me this small pleasure. It's my wedding gift." Brienne relented with a huff and Jaime struggled to hold back a guffaw. "Your Grace, you're too kind. Thank you," he said with a nod and a sparkle in his pupils.
They put the empty cups back on the desk. "Well, we're finished here. A pleasure as always. See you both around the castle." Sansa waved them goodbye and they stood to leave.
"The pleasure is ours, my lady," Brienne responded formally and she and Jaime bowed and got out.
Back in their chambers, they began to talk about their conversation with Sansa and Jaime quickly pointed out the fact that the young queen had blushed when mentioning Tyrion.
Brienne snorted with her dry sarcasm. "Seriously? After all that's been spoken and revealed there, the only thing that draws your true attention is her turning red at such a trivial thing as your brother writing Sansa from time to time? Really, Jaime, I thought you more mature at your age."
Jaime caught her by the waist.
"Hey, wench, you wound me. I'm a very mature man for my age. You've seen with your own eyes how I've remained sitting properly for more than five minutes non-stop. Let me erase the numbness from your magnificent ass. The poor thing is forced to be crushed onto those chairs for too long." And he stroked said part of her anatomy.
She tried to slap his hand, already bursting in laughter. "You fool. What am I going to do with you?"
"You accept suggestions?" He wiggled his brows.
"Oh, no. You have such a one-track mind." She shook her head in fake resignation.
"The only track that matters in this world. The rest is horseshit. But people complicate their lives too much to distinguish what's good for them."
He kissed her and pushed her gently to the bed.
Later, resting naked and tangled on the rumpled sheets, she laughed languidly. "Sometimes I think I let you get away with everything too easily."
He feigned indignation. "You've never been easy on me, woman, not by a long shot. You carried me like a burlap sack all across the Riverlands, pricked me and put me to shame incessantly with your bloody sense of honour and integrity and later had to settle in the freezing North of all places, to spite me. You're one hell of a difficult and stubborn wench. That's exactly what you are. And I'm crazy for you because of that. I've always liked a good challenge. Easy women bore me." He flashed his cheeky smirk.
"If I recall correctly, you liked me quite easy in bed during our previous moon turn together."
"What? You were everything but easy. Every morning I woke up bruised and sore in places I'd never felt before. You had no respect for my advanced age. And I'm not so sure you have any respect for me at all," he continued to needle.
She rolled her eyes at him, grinning. "I didn't hear you complaining then about soreness, old man."
"I feared you'd prefer Tormund if I began to complain like a hen with its feathers ruffled."
"Are you implying that you were so genuinely jealous of him?" She wore the expression of the cat that got the cream. It was the most smug he had seen her outside of the training or battle fields and he loved that. She needed more reasons to value herself. If showing his jealousy accomplished that, then he was only too happy to oblige.
"I admit I'd have felt strongly compelled to split him in two with Widow's Wail had he grazed a single hair on your head," he confessed seriously. "That brute practically ate you with his eyes and his blunt and open lust for you was absolutely disgusting. But even so, I could see that his interest in you rang true under all his coarseness. Maybe I perceived him as a rival because I feared that between him and me, you'd regard him as the best option. An uncomplicated man with honest desires, as opposed to a complicated man with twisted desires."
"Your desires aren't twisted. It's the circumstances that surrounded you that were twisted. Perhaps you were misguided, but even if your love for your sister was unsanctioned, it was true on your part. You love with all your heart, Jaime. I know you. That's why I persuaded myself that you couldn't truly feel anything deep for me. Not as long as Cersei filled your soul, because that meant there wasn't any room for me. You're a one-woman man."
"But that's the thing. By the time I arrived here to fight the dead, Cersei had stopped filling my soul. A certain strong-willed blonde wench with sapphire eyes was there instead. She had stolen that place long ago." He hesitated and then went on. "I've loved you like mad since I don't even remember when. I left because I needed closure. I could have confessed everything to you before departing from here, but I refused to be even more selfish by letting your hopes up and wait for me. If you resented me, it would be easier for you to move on. The odds for me to survive the travel South, King's Landing and who knows where else, and come back to you, were very low, so while you believed you were freeing me from my commitment to you, it was the opposite. It was me who was freeing you. I harboured just a tiny hope to see you again in this life. But I hoped anyway. And by no means would I have resumed that sick relationship Cersei and I had maintained like an open secret. I've been genuinely faithful to you since I left Cersei for good."
Her tears were falling on his chest. "I'd have never moved on from you, Jaime, you silly man. Don't you understad yet that you're the love of my life?"
He kissed the crown of her head tenderly and caressed her damp cheeks. His own were wet too. "And you're mine."
Sleep found them grinning at each other.