A heaviness woke him in warmth and candlelight; dim awareness filtered through his swirling thoughts as he heard the background mumbles unwind into conversation.
"I have never known you to fear anything," a woman's voice caressed the air.
"I am not afraid," a man replied. "But I can't see how this will help us."
There were footsteps before she spoke again.
"Do you remember that dirty little maester who attached himself to your father at Harenhall?"
"Qyburn," the man gave a shudder in the name. "How could I forget his… talents?"
"Again, with fear in that strong voice…"
A slap of flesh on flesh sounded… not sharp like a strike but soft as lips pressing together…
Warmth swirled up about him; making his body heavy but he listened all the same.
"When I bend flesh to my will," the man said as the woman gasped, "when I flay and leave the death behind… I don't expect it to rise again."
"I do…" the woman said as fabric rustled…
"Be quick; I made mention he rode on a hunt with the dawn…"
They spoke of him… Jaime knew but was unable to react.
"Not that the great sow he married believed me entirely."
Married? Jaime thought fuzzily… Brienne… she's looking for me…
The thought made him move, though the sharp action in his head translated to a clumsy stumble off the bedding he appeared to lie on…
Hands were about him, forcing his head back; the bruising press of a bottle urged his lips apart as a bitter liquid flushed into his mouth and down his throat.
With startling haste, a darkness rose up from the floor to consume him… and he was taken…
Brienne… he thought before the black claimed him.
()()()()
The water was warm when Jaime woke; his muscles ached but soothed to feel heat sink into him. He breathed; lungs filling with sweet aroma… were they supposed to? Where in the seven hells was he?
Jaime felt like he should know… felt like he had something to tell someone… there was a thought he had had before he came to be here…
But the more he thought on it the further away the answer felt.
"My Lord?" A soft voice called…
It wasn't familiar and caused him to startle before asking, "Who…"
"It is I…" the strange voice replied… "your wife?"
"Brienne," the name overtook all thought and doubt.
Of course it was Brienne; how had he not realised before?
It was obvious.
Jaime was struck with a need to see her… so he struggled up, realising he was in a small bath, confining his legs and keeping him in place…
Hands urged him back into the bath, "Hush now, my Lord…"
"My Lord?" Jaime scoffed, trying to reach her with his heavy hand as the room about him whirled and melted, "You have never called me so…"
The hands on his shoulders stilled an instant before turning to wide, circular and kneading motions about his neck and down his spine.
"I'm sure I have called you thus…" her voice moved closer to his ear, blowing breath onto his heated skin as she reiterated, "my Lord."
Gods; he grew hard.
She giggled.
She giggled?
Brienne… his Brienne? He had never heard the sound before… and it consumed him…
He moved again… held down once more by her slender hands…
"Your skin…" he marvelled, "soft and tender."
"Yes…"
But his wife knew sword and spear and rein as much as any man… her hands were toughened to them… they were large and strong…
It didn't feel right…
… "My hands are pleasing you…" she said, running her hands over his collar and down his chest to his navel… her nails trailing sparks and tingles across his skin as they stopped short at his naval… "are they not?"
They were, Jaime admitted, and while she was leant into him in such a way that his head was pillowed in her chest, he was inclined to forget whatever it was that bothering him a moment before…
What was it that had been wrong?
He suddenly couldn't recall.
Brienne was here with him…
"Are you enjoying your time in Winterfell," her fingers swirled in the small-hair of his abdomen, "My Lord?"
"Yes..." he sighed, leaning his head back into her chest, hoping to glance up and see her…
But the room was dark and she did not tower above him as he thought she should…
Still… his thoughts floated…
Had there been something wrong?
"And you have found the Boulton hospitality inviting," her fingers swirled lower… her reach curling his body slightly as she was too short of her goal…
He strained to feel himself in her hand, but answered, "Yes…" as he bent further to her touch, "for what they are."
The hands withdrew to his chest, "What do you mean?"
Had he meant something?
The room was so hot… he could hardly concentrate…
His mind swirled, "Only that we expected the Boutons to be as they are."
Rather than calming her, her nails bit into his skin…
He liked it…
But he was losing himself to the heat, as he had in Harrenhall…
"And was there anything in the castle that brought you concern?"
Had there been anything?
Winterfell was as cold and dank as he remembered; their chambers were as grand as the North could provide, furred and blanketed in thick wool… the great fire fresh with wood and stoked high…
The grounds were a blanket in the snow… the forecourt was less of a bustle and more a macabre, sombre area from when the Starks held the fortress…
So much sorrow…
And the kennels…
"There was something…" Jaime frowned into the illusive memory, "something…"
What was it?
In the place of direwolves, there had been hunting hounds… and in that last cell, in the place of a hound there was… a face…
"Nothing," her voice soothed…
The memory melted.
Of course… they were kennels… there had been… "Nothing at all."
Almost immediately, the hands pressed down his flesh and swirled once more before finding him, straining beneath the water…
The scents about them became fire… and even though he felt as though he knew his wife was the reason for his growing need, he still queried, "Brienne?"
"Yes," she replied with certainty.
And he was a fool… of course it was her.
And as she began to tell him how much he had enjoyed being on the hunt this night, her hands closed on his cock and brought him to the point where blood and heat and exhaustion met the night…
And after ecstasy came the black.