Jaime, throwing up wine and black bile and possibly all those bees that have been buzzing in his head since he'd first heard Brienne say in her new princess voice without the warrior rage, "I'm happy, Jaime," felt a soft, cool hand on the back of his neck.
"Jaime?" There was that princess voice again, and Jaime fought back hot, scalding tears, and he didn't know why, and that made him angry enough to shake off her hand.
"Are you all right?" She asked, her princess voice lower, more tenous.
"No, I'm bloody not all right," he said, spitting, and raised his head. As he did, the spinning world came into focus, and he leaned his good hand against the building to steady himself. Her stupid, princess face, rouged and soft, warrior sweat washed away.
"Too much wine?" she asked, a hint of smile at her lips.
"Not enough," he said, and tried to move his legs to go back inside. They failed him, of course, and he did nothing but slide down the building to crouch.
Brienne crouched beside him, smelling of petals and soapstone.
"Why aren't you losing your maidenhood to Gerald," he asked, and the words came out vulgar, with a sneer, but he was too drunk and the bees were still buzzing and he didn't care.
Brienne scoffed. "I never cared for that ceremony. It was just a show. For Father."
Jaime looked at her, and while the world was still spinning, her eyes were on his, and he could focus on them, for a moment, and for just a moment, the bees were quiet.
"Still a maiden, then," he said, grinning.
Brienne punched his shoulder, and he almost fell over.
She laughed, but her words were serious, somber. "Is that what you'd have me be, Jaime? A maiden forever?"
"No," he said, proudly. "A warrior."
She smiled at him. He was looking into her eyes, still, the only thing he could focus on, and suddenly, he looked down at her mouth, soft and pink and with the gloss smudged from eating and drinking.
He looked at her mouth and he couldn't look away. He leaned down to kiss her and she turned her head.
"Ser Jaime, I think you've partaken of our wine too much this evening!" She said with a bluster, and stood up, brushing dust from her white dress.
Jaime felt helpless, just as helpless as when he was fevered and one handed in the bath, her standing over him naked, all sweat and curves like a warrior goddess, and he remembered how the water beaded over her breasts and how it had made his cock rise up under the water, how in his dreams he woke hard for her, thinking of those breasts.
He didn't understand why. He didn't understand why her mouth had looked so appealing just now or why he hurt so much thinking of her being bedded by Gerald, running to fat round faced Gerald, why the buzzing in his head wouldn't let him alone for five minutes so that he could explain all this to her, to his warrior, his maiden. Surely, she would help him make sense of it. Surely, she would save him from this madness that had woken within him when his sister had spoken of Tarth.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Jaime," Brienne said, quietly, and her soft hand on his neck slipped off, leaving behind a trail of gooseflesh. She disappeared inside.