Brienne swings her sword expertly, chuckling as Jaime does his slow-motion attack routine. He is perhaps the most enthusiastic member of the medieval swords club the team has ever seen. Though he proved to be a lot better with the sword than she thought.
Brienne doesn't like to admit it, but he often ends up winning, despite the fact that she has more training. At some point, a sword on him is like the extension of his arm. It's as though he and a sword just belong together. His posture changes, the smug smile disappears, and his features are so fierce that you could really mistake him for a knight.
And Brienne could marvel at this for hours, though she would never say that out loud.
She wouldn't ever see the end of it.
"Please stop making those noises with your mouth, Jaime," she rolls her eyes as he makes whooshing sounds. "You are such a dork sometimes."
"I'm just preparing for beating your cute arse," Jaime grins. "And you remember, the game's still truth or dare."
She doesn't know why Jaime insisted on playing this game again. They did that especially in the beginning of their relationship, like they did in the archery range, but now that they are practically glued together, they know each other inside-out, or so Brienne figures. They know the other's favourite films, food, colour, which is blue in both cases, they know family stories, anecdotes. She even knows the name of the imaginary friend he had when he was four years old.
Rufus, by the way. A lion, obviously.
Just like he knows hers was a crimson-furred beast named Red the Destroyer.
However, today he insisted to play this game again, for some godforsaken reason.
With Jaime, you can never know. One moment, he is crystal clear in his mind, acting more adult than she ever could, and the next... he is a pouting child, a brat out for a tease.
Brienne finds it especially odd because the truth-part of the game is rather pointless, since they even fail to formulate questions without the other instantly coming up with a reply before the question is even finished. The way she reckons, Jaime is out for the dare-part of the game after all, which is why Jaime oftentimes demands a kiss or some other token of affection from her in turn... or to tease her, as always. One time he forced Brienne to pose like one of the models from the magazines.
"Alright, since we have a truce at this point, I would say next point wins," Jaime says, wiping his free hand over his face to get rid of some beads of sweats threatening to fall into his eyes.
"You just say that because you can't go on anymore," Brienne huffs. "But fine, next point wins."
And so the last round begins. Brienne charges instantly, forcing him into defence. She never holds back in battle, even if it's just for training. Because for Brienne, there is no in-between, there is just nothing or everything.
Just like she can't give only a part of her heart, but all of it.
"Crackers. Someone wants to win this battle quite badly," Jaime grunts, gaining momentum to deliver a few blows as well, though Brienne parries expertly.
Jaime loves how she can move with the fluidity of water, like a snake, a beautiful snake. And when she wields the sword, she is nothing but glorious.
The tall woman raises the blunt blade to strike, but that is when Jaime uses a kickboxing move to throw her off balance. Brienne staggers, honestly caught off-guard by the act, but Jaime holds one arm out to catch her before nudging his sword against her shoulder, saying, "Boop."
Brienne punches him in the arm hard enough to make him shriek, "One day, I swear, you will have to bring me to hospital because you apparently pulverised my shoulder."
"You can't just pull a kickboxing move," Brienne insists, punching him again anyway. "That's unfair, you jerk."
"Everything goes, in times of war," Jaime tells her with a malicious grin. Brienne snorts before taking off the pads they have to wear from protection, grumbling to herself. Jaime takes off the pads as well, chuckling to himself instead, "C'mon, Blue Eyes. Next time you'll beat me into the dust again, I'm sure."
"I would have, had you not decided to play dirty," she argues.
"You haven't seen me playing dirty yet," Jaime grins, before he walks up to her to grab her from behind, snaking his arms around her midsection.
He doesn't expect her to flip him over at once, sending him crashing to the ground, knocking the air out of him, though at some point, he maybe should have. Because Brienne hates defeat.
"Everything goes, in times of war," she tells him with narrowed sapphire eyes.
Jaime lets out laughter after laughter between the intakes of air, rubbing the sides of his ribcage against the pain, "I guess I had that one coming."
"You did," she replies with a small grin, before holding out her hand to him to pull him up.
To the day, Jaime is impressed with what ease she can. He is no lightweight by any means, but Brienne pulls him up as though he was.
Jaime runs his fingers through his hair, "Oh, I almost forgot. Since I won, I get another round of truth or dare."
"You cheated," she insists.
"Doesn't matter. I won," he argues. "So, what will it be for my lady, truth or dare?"
Brienne narrows her eyes at him, "Dare."
"Gambler at heart," Jaime chuckles.
"So? What am I supposed to do? The chicken dance?" Brienne snorts. "Or no, better, do a The Godfather impression. Or let you flip me over? Or…"
"No," Jaime grins. "I decide for myself, thank you. Though I will keep those in mind for the next time."
"Fine, then what?" she asks.
"I want a promise from you," he goes on.
"Careful now, oaths are not made easily," Brienne reminds him, suddenly very serious.
Brienne gives a lot on promises, and she doesn't vow easily. She believes that people say "I promise" way too often, because they don't see that a promise is something sacred, something very special that you shouldn't just give out like a "hello" or "how are you".
You shouldn't promise things you know you can't keep.
And if you promise, you have to try anything to keep your word.
Brienne always tried to live by that paradigm to the best of her abilities – and she told Jaime that she doesn't ever want him to promise her things he can't keep, and if he promises, that he has to stick to it till the bitter end. And to her surprise, Jaime understood it, and in fact accepted it, realising just how much it mattered to her.
"I'm well aware of an oath's implications," Jaime nods. "So? Will you promise me?"
"Yes, you have my word for it," Brienne rolls her eyes. "What do I promise you?"
"You will promise me that you will wear this," Jaime grins, taking her hand and slipping a silver ring with a sapphire in it on her finger. Brienne stares at the ring, then him, then the ring again.
"Is that…?" Brienne looks at him, her eyes opening unnaturally wide.
"If you mean to ask if that is an engagement ring, then yes. And I don't think I need to ask you for your hand in marriage now by going down on one knee, because you already forced me on the ground by flipping me over - and because you already promised me," Jaime grins. "After all, you made a vow, Blue Eyes."
She has her lips pressed on his at once, pulling him closer to her, allowing no inch between themselves, her emotions at such disarray that her mind just stops operating, except for those little orders, to kiss him, to hold him, to love him. Because she could think back to how they met, under what circumstances, and where they stand today.
This must be a dream at some point, but his lips feel real on her lips, as do the hands on her waist, as does the metal band on her finger.
Once both pull away, out of breath, flushed cheeks, Jaime lets out a laughter, "Ha! And Tyrion said that it wouldn't work."
He already means to lean into the next kiss, but Brienne punches him in the arm again.
"Hey! What was that for?!" he cries out.
"For cheating!" she tells him.
"Oh, c'mon!" he exhales. "I've been brooding over the perfect proposal in ages. You have no idea how hard it can be to please you outside the realm of the bed at times, Blue Eyes. I carefully planned this into the smallest detail. Not to mention to pick the one ring that would please you – because your taste is not only exotic, but very, very unique. I guess it would have been easier to find the One Ring to rule them all. So excuse me that I had to make sure that I win this round of truth or dare."
"You could have waited until the time you would have won fair and sound," she snorts. Jaime holds on to her more firmly again, "I don't want to live another day without knowing you by my side."
"Gods, that's corny," Brienne huffs.
"C'mon, say something nice to me," he mewls. "I made every effort not to take something conventional – because you are exceptional. Give me some credit."
Brienne simply leans in for a deep kiss, knowing that words can't describe the happiness she feels at this very second, for having found someone who understands her so fully well that he chose the one proposal that didn't leave her in a cliché-ridden moment where he goes on his knees, she is all dressed up, and squeals like a madwoman.
No, this is her, this is him, this is them.
Sword fights.
Always fight.
Always truce.
"I love you," she breathes against his mouth. "I love you."
"So is that a yes?" Jaime smiles, holding her close.
"Yes."
Yes. She promises.