Jaime became aware that he must be grinning like a fool and tearing up in front of Pod. "The fucking ashes from the fireplaces. They always get into my eyes."
Pod went along with Jaime's lame excuse. "Well, Ser." He glanced awkwardly at the wedding outfit. "Shall we?," he asked, waiting for Jaime's permission to help him get dressed.
Jaime nodded after a moment's hesitation, too distracted by the cloak on the table. "Yes, of course." He was perfectly capable of donning the attire by himself, but wedding traditions involved family and friends pawing the bride and groom at will, or such was his experience as a witness at weddings.
He attached the golden hand to the stump (a servant had taken it to Pod's room while Jaime was reading his aunt's letter, because he in his haste had forgotten it in his chambers) and the squire handed him the garments, helped with the laces and smoothed the creases.
The whole process took just a few minutes and soon Jaime was as ready as he could be. He turned to the boy with a somber stare.
"Pod, thank you for everything. For supporting her. For being next to her when I wasn't, and I don't refer simply to the last time, when I left her behind. I refer to the years you've spent by her side. I'll never deserve her, but I'll try to be worthy of her. I won't ever stop trying."
Pod's expressive face looked very touched. "I know, Ser. You can be very insistent." The boy smiled with a blush.
Jaime nodded vigorously. "Yes, I can. Now, what about getting to the godswood? I don't want to be the first groom in history to be late on his own wedding. It would earn me the reputation of primping more than my bride."
Both started to laugh. Everyone knew Brienne never primped. Well, except for today. Her wedding day was her chance to primp, what she wouldn't have followed with if Sansa weren't there to help her with those womanly things.
Jaime grabbed the cloak carefully, reverentially, and both men strode to the grounds of the castle. Fortunately, snow was allowing a respite, but Jaime didn't truly care for the weather. Not even the perpetually grey sky could dull his cheerful mood. He just felt a slight pang of nerves in the pit of his stomach, due to his ever-present sense of unworthiness. But he wouldn't let anything damper his happiness. He was determined to be a better man for Brienne and that certainty calmed him almost instantly.
They stopped under the huge weirwood tree with its gorgeous red leaves. The silence in that place evoked a feeling of peacefulness. One could almost believe that the spirits of hundreds of ancestors resided in the ancient wood. None of them spoke, not wanting to disturb the quiet atmosphere. Jaime had his mother's cloak draped over his left arm.
A short while later, Brienne's and Sansa's tall outlines appeared in the distance. Jaime's heart leapt in his chest.
Brienne was truly beautiful. He had seen her in her wedding attire when she was trying it on for Sansa and the seamstresses to adjust it, but it hadn't had the same effect. Brienne irradiated a natural beauty emphasized by the fetching cut and shape of the tunic and breeches. She seemed to glow with her fair hair falling in loose waves almost to her shoulders. Sansa had styled it in a way that most of it was parted from the left to the right of her head, and some front strands crossed over her forehead and had been tucked behind her right ear. She truly looked lovely. His awed stare and his mouth agape must have conveyed his feeling of complete adoration, as Brienne smiled fully and the light she seemd to irradiate suddenly turned the day brighter for him.
It must be odd, but he suddenly didn't feel the cold at all.
They locked eyes with each other until Sansa, who was carrying Brienne's cloak (so it seemed the little trickster had asked in secret for the Tarths' maiden cloak as well as the Lannisters'; Jaime could only imagine Brienne's reaction), cleared her throat discreetly to call them to attention.
"Let's begin." She stood behind Brienne to put the cloak on her shoulders. It matched the rest of the outfit gracefully.
Sansa escorted Brienne towards Jaime's left side and stepped back.
Jaime focused on his rehearsed speech, as solemn as ever. "Who comes? Who comes before the gods?"
"Brienne of House Tarth comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?," Sansa recited.
"Me, Jaime of House Lannister, a knight of Westeros. I claim her. Who gives her?"
"Sansa of House Stark, a close friend to the bride." She turned to Brienne. "Ser Brienne, will you take this man?"
"I take this man," the bride recited firmly.
Brienne and Jaime joined hands and knelt in front of the heart tree, bowing their heads. They stayed in that position for some moments and stood again. Jaime removed Brienne's maiden cloak and handed it to Pod. Then he put the Lannister cloak on her shoulders. The brand new married couple kissed and locked eyes once more, shining with pure happiness.
"Congratulations!," Sansa cheered, breaking the solemnity of the scene. Pod chorused her and the boy and Sansa hugged the moved couple.
"Now let's go get back our blood circulation," Jaime hurried along, and everyone laughed. He then passed the Lannister cloak to Pod and unexpectedly scooped Brienne in his arms with a humph.
She squealed in surprise. "Jaime, what are you doing?"
He started to walk as if he wasn't carrying a pregnant woman an inch or two taller than him. Sansa and Pod looked as bewildered as Brienne. That hadn't been a part of the rehearsals. But Jaime knew it was usually a Northern custom and he wanted to follow all the wedding traditions in order to please his wife. He wanted to offer her all those little gestures, no matter how silly.
"I'm carrying my bride and taking her to the main hall. That's what grooms do in Northern weddings and I won't be less than any other. I told you in the Riverlands, I'm strong enough," he reminded her with his cheeky smile. The truth was that he wasn't as strong as he used to be, but he still could carry his bride proudly.
Brienne started to protest. "Jaime, don't be ridiculous. You don't have to prove anything."
He went on advancing to the buildings. "I'm not proving anything. It's just an excuse like any other to have you in my arms."
"Tomorrow you'll have a sore back," she predicted, rolling her eyes.
"Tomorrow we'll both have sore bodies," he retorted, lifting his brows suggestively.
The laughter of the whole group could be heard all the way to the castle.
The main hall was packed with the usual residents of the castle, clean and dressed for the occasion. At the arrival of the just married couple and their witnesses, the entire hall burst in applause, cheers and whistles. Brienne smiled shyly and blushed intensely, whereas Jaime made a comical bow and greeted the audience with his left hand. Sansa was as confident as usual among her people, and Pod trailed behind the others aiming glances and smiles at the kitchen wenches, which they returned with giggles and nudges to each other.
Jaime knew that Brienne didn't approve of the boy's licentious tendencies with women. She had commented some time that if Pod found a woman to love, he would stop that promiscuity. Jaime agreed. The young squire was a kind and loyal soul and when he devoted himself to someone, he did it until the end. As it was the case of his relationship with Brienne, very much like the bond between an older sister and a younger brother. They were practically family.
Jaime had replied that the boy was stil young and would have time to find his match and settle down. You worry like a fussy old sister. Such a mama hen, he had needled fondly. She always worried very much about her people. Someone has to, she had responded. He has no one else. To that, Jaime had no witty reply. Just a tender smile only for her.
They sat on their usual benches without more fuss. Lunch was served and everyone ate and drank merrily. Loud talk, laughter and music filled the room. There were no plots against enemy houses, no poisoned conversations, no veiled threats. No insults or degrading shows. Jaime remembered with rage the dwarves' mocking performance of the War of the Five Kings at Joffrey's wedding. Of course, that was one of Cersei and Joffrey's cruel ideas to humiliate Tyrion and Sansa. Jaime still felt ashamed for simply remaining aside without intervening. It was just another unsavory episode in his basically mediocre personal history as a member of the Kingsguard. Even worse being the Lord Commander. What he did for King's Landing by killing Aerys didn't erase the many times he had failed.
He was aware it wasn't his duty as a kingsguard to intervene if there was no threat against the royal family. But, what about his vows as a knight? To protect and defend the innocent? Tyrion and Sansa were being relentlessly harassed and he couldn't do shit. Joffrey was a sadistic brat and Cersei an embittered bitch who used Tyrion and Sansa as scapegoats for all her frustrations, disappointments and nastiness. Who had allowed his eldest son (and also encouraged him) to become the monster he had evolved into.
Brienne noticed his sudden darker mood and put her hand on his. "What's the matter, Jaime?"
He shook the sinister memories and felt better just looking at his brand new wife. "Nothing, love. Just remembering past hateful weddings and feeling happy that ours is so different."
She read his mind, like she usually did. "You were thinking about Joffrey's wedding, weren't you? Even I wished to run off as far away as I could. Your sister figured out I loved you and told me so. By then I was hardly struggling yet to admit to myself my feelings for you. I wanted so desperately to deny them. But I couldn't. She saw the truth in my expression. By the gods, she was frightening. It was clear that with that glare she was marking her territory and discouraging me from harbouring any hopes regarding you. As if I ever could. You were so out of my reach that my hopes were swept away from the beginning".
Jaime had suspected as much. He recalled vividly Brienne's bewildered reaction to something Cersei had told her. He was too far from them to hear the exchange, but by the confused glance Brienne shot at him from afar, he instantly guessed that his sister was threatening her in that sneaky way she used with everyone who bothered her. That added one more reason to the perpetually growing list of things to feel ashamed of on behalf of his family and of himself. "When I saw you talking, I I feared Cersei would show her claws, and she did. She sensed something from the moment we set foot in the Red Keep and she found out you had been my traveling companion. And you know what? She was right. I had started to develop feelings for you. I ignored what they were exactly, and as I've told you sometime, I was afraid to admit that my world wasn't revolving exclusively around Cersei anymore. That was terribly frightening. She had been almost my whole life until then. It's very difficult to change your ways and recognize that the focus of your life has shifted." He stopped his speech to squeeze her hand and caress her with loving eyes. "But look at us now." Suddenly his pupils glinted with mischief. "What seemed impossible is now a reality. How could I have foreseen that the tall blonde wench I envisioned when guiltily jerking off in the dead of night would one day replace my left hand? And what a succulent replacement."
She snorted and gave him a little shove. "You're such a romantic, Jaime. You truly know how to sweep a girl off her feet." He loved bringing out her dry humour and her sarcasm. It was a challenging game they enjoyed playing. And an arousing one too. It was like sparring with words instead of swords. Either way, that sparked their fire. Jaime was feeling his blood sing. His stare shone with passion, mirrored by hers, and he whispered only to her ears, with a sensual tone of voice. "I love the way your face flushes when we make love. The way we lock eyes when we come together. The way you cry out my name. The incredible softness of your skin when I touch you. The firmness of your muscles when your long legs surround me. I love the taste between your legs. I love your body, but I love your beautiful soul above everything. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, Brienne. It's the truth. And I'm crazy for making love to you this very moment. I want to consummate our marriage until we're so wasted we can barely get up, not to mention walk. If I hadn't got you with this baby already, I'd put one in your belly this very day." He paused, enjoying her mesmerized gaze, her dilated pupils and her shallow breathing. She was aroused too. He half grinned. "Not so bad for an unromantic dude, don't you think? I'd venture to say there's a girl around here quite swept off her feet."
"Oh, would you? And where is that slobbering girl?"
"Not far from here. The tall blonde with soft waves, enticing tits, neverending legs and sapphire eyes. I'd like to ask her if she's willing to come to bed with me to do wicked things together."
"I'm sure she'd answer yes. She told me she likes you a lot. But don't tell her this, she says it would go straight to your big head." She truly was enjoying this, the minx. He needed to get her urgently to their chambers. Her hand on his thigh under the table was starting to torture him with want. She grazed his crotch and he nearly jumped.
Jaime murmured in her ear desperately. "Come on, love. Let's get out of here. I'm dying to fuck you."
She shivered. "It's about time you asked. I'm dying to fuck you too."
He stood and offered her his hand. She grasped it and stood as well. Sansa, Pod and the other people at the table turned to look at them with knowing smiles. Some whistles were heard and others followed until the entire hall was whistling at them. Jaime held firmly Brienne's hand and smiled cheekily for their audience. "You know, a freshly married couple have some duties to fulfill. If you'll excuse us." He walked smugly between two long rows of tables straight for the exit, with his hand intertwined with Brienne's, whose face was bright red. She was looking at the floor and had that expression that meant she wished that the earth would swallow her up. He was truly enjoying the situation. She was absolutely lovely and desirable to him.
When they exited the noisy hall, he pushed her against the wall of a deserted corridor and kissed her voraciously, gropping her sensitive breast. She returned the kiss with equal intensity and both moaned.
He took her in his arms again, like before on the grounds of the castle. She tried to protest once more, to no avail.
"They say it brings bad luck for a newly married couple to cross the threshold of their home with the bride setting foot on the floor."
She rolled her eyes with her arms around his neck. "Really? I didn't peg you for a superstitious person."
"And I am not. But they also say it's better no to tempt fate." He couldn't hold back his mischievous grin.
"It's your back what's tempting fate, Jaime. Even you have to admit I'm not a feather," she replied.
Jaime gave her his best imitation of his own annoyed glare. "Have a little faith in me, woman. You're ruining the mood. I'm trying to be your gallant knight in shining armour. You never make things easy, wench?"
She denied with her smug smile. "You know I rarely do."
Just in that moment they reached their threshold. He struggled a little to open the door with his left hand under her knees, but he managed. They crossed and he placed her back on the floor. "See. Piece of cake. Now, come here." He grabbed her waist and pulled her to him, kissing her.
By the time they fell asleep sated and sore after a few rounds of lovemaking, their marriage was well and thoroughly consummated, Jaime thought with a grin before exhaustion claimed him.
