"Bear grease?" Brienne asked, "That was Cersei? I thought maybe they had used it to fry tonight's dinner." She thought a moment and said "Do you think that was what she had in her hair?"
Jaime laughed. "I hope using bear grease to style hair doesn't become popular. I know Loras has an eye for fashion, but do we really need the whole court smelling like a dog's dinner?"
"I may be wrong, but I think Loras was teasing your sister about her hairstyle, not condoning it. He's quite funny, you know."
"Is he?" Jaime asked with feigned curiosity. "I never noticed. Are you sure you aren't starting to fancy him?"
"Ah, you've caught me out Jaime," Brienne said saucily, "With those soft brown curls and golden eyes of his, how could I help it? I wonder if he's gotten good enough to defeat me in battle? I'm sure the small Isle of Tarth would be a fair prize for the third son of High Garden, don't you?"
Jaime's jaw clenched around a smile that did not touch his eyes. "I suppose it might, and the two of you are of an age… " Jaime's brows drew down over his eyes and his small smile became more cutting. "But would you really be happy with a man who could only love you if you were another man?"
"In the dark I would be as beautiful as any man," Brienne murmured under her breath as she looked away, their badinage suddenly losing its appeal.
Jaime turned to Brienne "What did you say?" he asked, confused. Their steps had taken them to the great oak double doors leading into the Queen's Ballroom. The torches in their iron sconces cast more shadows than light, and the two stood in the scant illumination next to the doors.
"Nothing." She said, hoping he wouldn't pursue what she hadn't intended him to hear. When he continued to wait for her answer she started to lead him to the doors.
He pulled her back with a little yank, "Brienne, just tell me what you said," He insisted.
"Let go," she said, trying to pull her fingers from his, the color rising in her cheeks as she tried shaking his fingers lose. He tightened them. "It wasn't important, Jaime. Now let go!" Her eyes had gone from sad to frustrated and angry. It was obvious that Jaime was determined to make her repeat what she had said. Brienne tried to distract him by reminding him, "The last time you accused me of fancying Loras you said yourself that a man could change."
Her brief smile was forced, and the hurt look in her eyes was easy for him to read. It riled him that she still refused to trust him with her feelings after all they had been through together. He released her hand but before she could turn away he had shifted his body quickly to trap her against the wall, his left hand holding her wrist down at her side and his right forearm braced against the wood paneling, caging her in. It was a swordsman's motion: graceful, instinctual, and menacing. Brienne's free hand came up between them and pressed against his chest. Jaime knew she was more than strong enough to escape his hold, and his stomach lurched as he realized he might have just undone any new trust he had won in the last few days by trying to force her to confide in him. He suddenly felt a little ashamed of his jealousy and possessiveness, his need to learn all of her secrets.
"Please. Tell me," He asked, his soft, gruff voice at odds with the move he had just used to capture her. Brienne relaxed the pressure of her hand on his chest, and though he did not shift his position, Jaime loosened his taut fighter's stance.
"Jaime, it was really nothing. I didn't mean to say it out loud and it's something embarrassing," Brienne told him with a huff of annoyance. "I said 'in the dark I would be as beautiful as any man.'" She glanced down pointedly at her hand on his chest and then back at him, willing him to step back.
Jaime shook his head at her, "I can't even guess what that means. It sounds almost like a jape, but I know it wasn't."
Brienne sighed, "It was just a variation of something Hyle Hunt said to me when he suggested we marry so he could have Tarth and I could have a castle full of children by him." She rolled her eyes briefly, "That was when he tried to convince me to let him come to my room to show me how he could make that happen. He said to me 'in the dark you would be as beautiful as any other woman.'" She looked at Jaime and he could see that her anger and embarrassment still smoldered, that confiding in him about the hedge knight's humiliating attempt at seduction had not been something she wanted to share with him.
Jaime felt his own fury rising, his protectiveness of Brienne heightened by her confession. "That poxy son of a whore! Would that we had let the worthless sack of shit swing in the wind to feed the crows." Jaime thought about how he had saved Brienne from being raped back when they were captives of the Bloody Mummers, how he had hoped then to prevent the hidden scars that rape would have left her with. He hadn't been around to save her from the likes of Hunt and every other man who had scored and wounded her heart with words and deeds not fitting from a knight or a knave. So much of the damage had been done before he had ever met her.
Without really knowing what he was about he suddenly wrapped his right arm around her waist and his hand rose to tangle into her hair. He leaned her back and as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders to keep her balance he kissed her hard, in a sudden fervor to blot out every unworthy man who had made it impossible for her to trust how he felt about her and to trust her own feelings. Brienne didn't try to push him away, but she also didn't welcome his kiss; she did not part her lips under his, or close her eyes or yield in any way. Jaime finally raised his head and looked at her, searching her eyes for a way to break through the barriers she had thrown up. Her lips were reddened from his fervent kisses, her eyes wide with questions and dark with emotion.
Jaime changed his stance to pull her up back upright until they were pressed together without an inch between them, with his arms wrapped around her waist. He knew he should step back from her, but he decided that she had enough room to back away if she was bothered by the feel of his rigid cock against her thigh; he was too intoxicated by her nearness and the memory of her lips beneath his to back away himself. He desired her and he wanted her to know it, to feel it and accept it. Brienne did not back away from him as he had feared she might and they both stood utterly still for a long moment, barely daring to breathe. Brienne set her hands low on Jaime's hips as they continued to take each other's measure eye to eye; there could be no misunderstanding about how intimately they were holding each another. Jaime knew that his eyes revealed to her all that he was feeling, but Brienne was still trying to keep her own guarded from him. Jaime raised his hand to her cheek and cupped it, "My Brienne," he said, his voice low and husky, watching as her eyes closed and she took a deep breath. He felt her hips settle against his and her fingers spread across his lower back as she opened her eyes to gaze into his own. Jaime brushed against her lips softly, feeling her respond shyly at first, but then quickly get swept up by their ardor as they fell into a fathomless kiss and the world around them spun away until the only point of light was the two of them yielding to each other.
"By the seven, you kids," came Tyrion's slightly slurred voice, "Get a chamber already."
Jaime and Brienne parted with a breathless laugh. "That's the problem, little brother," Jaime said without turning around, "we haven't got one." He smoothed his hand down Brienne's hair and gave her another little kiss. Brienne saw that Cersei was with Tyrion, but she was too caught up in the lingering memory of Jaime's lips against hers to do more than note the usual malign hatred there. Jaime twisted round to look at his brother and sister, but for obvious reasons chose not to turn all the way towards them. "Go on ahead. My lady and I will be along soon."
"C'mon, Cersei," Tyrion said to his sister, "We know when we're not wanted, don't we?" he started toward the door, "I believe I hear a flagon of hippocras calling your name, sister," he said as Cersei followed him to the doors, weaving slightly, "Do you hear it?" Tyrion asked as he pulled open one of the huge doors and cupped a hand to his ear, "Cersei, Cerseiiiii" he called in a whispery falsetto, "Yes, we hear you sweet spirits, we're coming!" he pretended his own hand had reached out and pulled him in. Jaime had turned back to Brienne, and did not see his sister mouth whore at her before disappearing into the Queen's Ballroom after Tyrion.
"Now," Jaime said to Brienne with a sly smile, "about this thing you have for Ser Loras… "
She laughed at him, her eyes bright. "I'm not telling you not to worry that I could be falling for him, but I rather thought he was beginning to fancy you. Honestly, I'm not at all sure I could compete."
"Wench." He said, and stole another quick, passionate kiss. Jaime felt elated by the hectic color in her cheeks and the liveliness of her eyes. The battle to convince her that he wanted more of her than friendship may not have been won yet, but he felt like he had been the victor in this round, despite his clumsy missteps. When he had kissed her in his room before dinner she had been flustered but had not backed away, and later she had even offered him her hand to hold, but the kiss they had just shared burned bright in his heart with the knowledge that she wanted more, too. He just might be getting better at this courting business.
"Come on, we don't want to miss it if they sing 'the Ice Spider Shuffle'" he told her with a grin.
"You just made that up." She accused him.
"Did I?" He said, letting her use the hand he wasn't holding to pull open one of the huge doors, "I guess we'll find out, won't we?"
They entered the small but sumptuous hall, which was bright with torchlight reflected off of the beaten silver mirrors. Jaime had been in the room more times than he could remember, but Brienne had never set foot in it before. As expected, Queen Daenerys had lent her decorating touches to the ballroom, but they were nowhere near as gaudy as the carnival atmosphere she had created in the dining hall. Many of the chairs had been replaced by small couches and ample overstuffed chairs of soft kid leather, each draped with soft lamb's wool coverlets in Targaryen red and black. Small wood tables were scattered throughout and delicately wrought beaten silver bowls in the shape of curled, sleeping dragons graced each table. Some were filled with nuts, some with sweet-smelling pastries. Some of the dragon skulls from storage had been brought up for use here as incense burners, with bone inserts placed in the eye holes to hold the glowing scented cones. They could barely smell Cersei's hair over the richness of everything else in the room and the scent of spiced wine, new leather, and roasted nuts made the already small room feel even more intimate. The golden reflected light of the torches was warm and enveloping.
The Queen's Ballroom was meant to hold about one hundred people, but so far there was less than a third of that many present so far. On a dais between two roaring hearths a tall bard was tuning his lute as he sat on an ornate stool, a cup and flagon on a table beside him. He had long dark hair caught up at the base of his neck with a gold ribbon and the gleaming tail of it flowed down the green velvet of his jacket.
Jaime saw that Tyrion had claimed one of the overstuffed chairs near the front and Cersei was curled on a couch next to him by herself, cradling her wine cup near her nose as she inhaled its scent.
Jaime led Brienne to a couch near the doors. All of the furniture had been arranged so that everyone might have a decent view of the stage no matter where they sat. A large circular space had been left in front of the dais for dancing. Jaime hoped that by choosing to sit near the door they could sneak out if the bard wasn't to their liking or if the singing went past the time they had agreed to meet Lavakhat and Hemikh. Brienne settled into the soft cushions of the couch, leaving room for Jaime beside her. He lifted the coverlet off of the back of the couch and handed it to Brienne before sitting down himself.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" Brienne asked, holding up the blanket.
"You could drape it over us and get comfortable," Jaime suggested with a raised eyebrow. Brienne frowned at him unconvincingly and draped the soft wool over their laps.
A server dressed in black livery with richly embroidered red Targaryen dragons on it hurried up to them. He bowed slightly and said "Ah, Lady Brienne, I am so glad you've arrived. We were worried you might not come." Brienne looked up at the man in confusion, and Jaime looked at her as though she could explain what was going on. "Oh, uh oh," the man said quickly, covering his mouth, "Forgive me, m'lady. I, well, I mean I was told to make sure you were well taken care of." The man was obviously trying to cover up something he hadn't been meant to reveal. Before they could ask the man more he hurried off and spoke rapidly to a serving girl, gesturing over at them urgently. The girl trotted off into an alcove and emerged with mugs and a pitcher of wine, which she hurriedly brought to them.
"M'lord, m'lady, mulled wine for you?" she asked nervously.
"Thank you, yes," Jaime told her with a charming smile meant to put her at ease. Brienne watched as the server blushed, obviously and predictably smitten by the handsome knight. She served Brienne first, handing her a steaming mug, and then presented one to Jaime, daring to brush his fingers as she did so. She dropped a quick curtsey, gave him one last coy look and hurried off to serve wine to new arrivals.
The room was filling quickly, and the intimate feel of the space was being overtaken by a festive air. Ser Loras came in followed by one of the young men Jaime recognized from the group that had been hovering around Brienne in the yard earlier. Loras nodded to Jaime and Brienne and settled into a couch on Brienne's side. The man who had come in with him stopped in front of Brienne and gave her a wide smile. "Lady Brienne!" he said enthusiastically, "Ser Loras told me you would be here tonight." He grasped her hand from the top of the coverlet and raised it for a kiss. He turned to Jaime and inclined his head, still lightly holding onto Brienne's hand. "Ser Jaime Lannister, I am so honored to finally meet you! I was brought up on tales of your skill and valor almost from the time I learned to walk and carry a wooden sword."
Jaime glanced out of the corner of his eye at Brienne, who finally took her hand back. "I am remiss in my courtesies," she said, "Ser Jaime, I would like to introduce Ser Dwayne of Lorath. Ser Dwayne, of course, already knows who you are."
Jaime stood and extended his left hand, enjoying Ser Dwayne's discomfiture as he first tried to extend his right hand to shake. When he offered his left Jaime gripped it so hard that Dwayne winced a little.
"Lorath?" Jaime asked, releasing his hand "I've not heard of the name before. Minor house?" He noted that the younger man was taller even than Brienne, with auburn hair, and a blandly handsome face. His eyes were similar in color to Loras', gold but with flecks of green. He wore snug, slightly glossy red leather breeches and a black silk tunic. Jaime was deciding he didn't much like him.
"No, Ser," Dwayne told him, "Lorath is on an island, much like Tarth." He smiled down at Brienne, "It is one of the free cities. I am Jourel of Lorath's eldest son and heir. Most of our wealth comes from the silver mines at the west side of the island. Queen Daenerys was very taken with the quality of our goods and invited me to come to King's Landing as her guest and to train with some of her loyal knights." He smiled down at Brienne, "I have been trying to convince Brienne to spar with me. I am not able to understand why she is not yet a knight."
Jaime noted his bold use of Brienne's name and found himself disliking this Ser Dwayne more and more. He sat back down next to her, rather closer than before.
"You flatter me, Ser Dwayne." Brienne smiled up at him, "I hope that we can find some time to spar before Ser Jaime and I head north again." She looked at Jaime and her affectionate smile for him warmed him through, "I promised Jaime that he could spar with me first, when we find the time."
Ser Dwayne was lingering before them, waiting for Brienne to look away from Jaime, when Loras called to him. "Ser Dwayne, do come sit here with me. You can have the side next to Brienne so that you can converse with her without looming over them like an overgrown ox." Loras patted the couch. Brienne looked over at Loras and smiled in thanks, and Dwayne took the offered seat.
The room had become quite full by the time Daenerys and her hangers' on made their entrance. The queen had dressed in flowing sandsilk the color of a desert sunset and a woven silver filet bound her hair back from her forehead. The silk was snug against her breasts and did nothing to hide their fullness or the thrust of her nipples against the thin silk. Her waist was cinched with a wide tooled leather belt that started just below her breasts and ended at the flare of her hips. The silk flowed down her flanks and arse in waves, both clinging to her curves and swirling around them. Tension flowed into the room along with Daenerys in the form of Ser Jorah Mormont, walking awkwardly behind her, trying to stare at her arse, hide his erection and keep one jealous eye on every man in the room, who he seemed to assume were all in a similar state.
Loras leaned across Dwayne and said in a low whisper to Brienne "Looks like Ser Jorah forgot to bury his nuts in the snow again." Brienne snorted as she tried to stifle a laugh. "Also," Loras said, "I'm fairly certain that stubby wood he's trying to hide barely qualifies as a twig." Brienne widened her eyes at him, looking scandalized, but Jaime had overheard him as well and laughed out loud.
Brienne turned to look at him as he continued to chuckle quietly, watching Jorah walk awkwardly behind the queen, "You're right," he whispered in her ear, "Loras is funny." He put his right arm around her shoulder and pulled her toward him so he could kiss the top of her head. He kept his lips in her hair for a moment and then whispered, "Gods, you don't think he's got a mental image of every cock in the Red Keep, do you?"
Brienne pulled herself up to whisper in his ear, "No, just the ones belonging to men he fancies," and slid back down giggling.
Jaime shifted so that his arm was under hers and resting across her middle. He pulled her closer until she was leaning against him, but the position was awkward and there was no good way for her to position her arms and elbows. Jaime came to the realization that he had no experience at cuddling in an upright position or in public, and neither did Brienne. He felt a little bashful thinking about how much he didn't really know at his age. When he been with Cersei he had learned early how to be a good lover and how to satisfy a woman; he suspected that his sister was probably one of the most difficult women to please in the whole kingdom, and he had no doubts about his prowess in that respect. But the everyday pleasures of holding a woman one cared for probably came easier to the average fourteen year old boy. Jaime thought about how he had figured out how to hold Brienne's hand just recently, and laughed to himself about how ridiculous it was that a man of his age and reputation was acting like a green boy.
Brienne had pulled away to sit up again by this time, just as stymied as he was by the way their bodies didn't seem to fit together on the couch in any way except by sitting side by side. She smiled her shy smile, and he could tell she thought it was her fault somehow.
"Here, get up a minute," he told her, and she draped the coverlet over the back of the couch and stood, looking as though she wanted nothing more than to hide from the faces that turned to look at her from all over the room. Her height would always draw attention to her, and he knew how uncomfortable that made her. Jaime turned to the side and set his back against the cushioned armrest, then placed his right leg along the back of the couch. He gestured for Brienne to sit down with her back against him. She looked as though she might argue the point, but then reconsidered; she wanted more than anything to stop towering over everyone else that was already seated. She quickly settled herself between Jaime's legs and pulled her own knees up so that her feet rested on the couch. He wrapped his arms around her and she leaned against his chest, resting her own arms across his with her hands draped over his muscular forearms.
"Oh," she said, "I guess this is better," and tried to relax against him. She fidgeted a little nervously and grabbed the cover to drape over them again, then sat up to retrieve her mug of wine and to offer him his, and then to set them back down and rearrange the coverlet. Jaime patiently waited for her to settle down, wishing she would stop shifting around so much. He could only distract himself by doing math figures in his head for so long before he would have to resort to mentally reciting the Dornish poetry his father had made him memorize when he was eight. Finally, Brienne snuggled back against him and he was able to relax as well.
Very soon the noise level in the room rose as the bard got off his stool and bowed to the crowd. Jaime glanced around the room and caught Tyrion's knowing smirk and grinned back. Cersei was curled into one corner of her couch, facing the bard. She looked about ready to pass out and didn't seem to notice that Godfrey of Boane was perched on the other side of her couch watching her like a spider might watch a fly. Jaime wondered how or if they knew each other.
As the bard plucked a string on his lute the audience applauded. He made a grand flourish with his arm to the queen and made a low bow to her.
"I am honored to be here by her Grace's command," he said in a rich voice that carried to every corner of the room, "I am known as Brad the Bard and I have sung in the halls of kings and queens, khals and khaleesi's, from the free cities to the seven kingdoms to Vaes Dothrak and beyond. But I have never," he paused dramatically, "been in the presence of a queen half so beautiful as Queen Daenerys Targaryen." More applause erupted, especially from those seated closest to the queen.
The bard plucked a series of notes from his instrument and launched into "Dany's Divine Dragons," much to the evident appreciation of the crowd. Jaime had to admit the bard had talent as he soared through the song, ending with the final verses:
Above the storm clouds limned in gold
Drogon soared as was foretold
All of Westeros beneath his wings
Rightful land of the Targaryen Kings
With Daenerys Stormborn riding high
The Mother of Dragons graced the sky
For far and long had she flown
And come to rule upon the Iron Throne.
The bard was rewarded with wild applause, and Jaime thought he might have seen what looked like a pair of women's smallclothes flung upon the dais. Brad the Bard took his bows and gazed about the room, his dark-lashed blue eyes searching for a likely lady to serenade. He finally selected a minor lord's daughter from among those seated near the queen and, taking her hand, he escorted her up to the dais, seating her upon his stool. The girl was comely enough, Jaime supposed, but like so many lords' daughters he had met over the years her courtly manners verged on simpering, and her eyes, though pretty enough, looked less intelligent than any well-bred mare's. She perched upon the stool and gazed down at the bard who had settled cross-legged at her feet to sing her a ballad of lost love. Jaime doubted the girl had ever thought about the lyrics, though the song itself was popular enough. It told the story of a lord's daughter who had used her own death to warn her lover of danger, a thief wanted by the king's justice. In the end the thief's head was chopped off and no one was happy. Jaime had never cared for the song. He looked over at the maiden's lord father, and by his crossed arms and glowering face he wasn't fond of it either. When the bard escorted the lord's daughter back to his side it was clear from her father's glare that the girl was going to be under house guard for at least the next fortnight or however long the bard was still in King's Landing.
After that the bard took a few requests, and was offered many tankards of ale, cups of wine and flirtatious innuendos. He played a reel about a half-wit squire that had a half dozen couples dancing drunkenly before the dais.
Jaime's mind began to wander to his plans for later, when he could have Brienne all to himself in her chamber within the Maidenvault. All day he had been thinking about being alone with her and continuing to romance her and imagining how it would go, but now he began to feel his excitement tempered by nerves. Even as he had been planning how best to court Brienne his impulsiveness and impatience had driven him to demand more of her than she seemed ready for. He had never thought to share such an intimate kiss with her so soon, no matter how often he had imagined and wished for it. Having her here in his arms out in the open like this felt right. It was almost perfect, and his happiness seemed to thrum through his veins at the way she had completely relaxed into him; the weight of her against him, her warmth, the feel of her soft hair against his neck. He tightened his arms around her and kissed the top of her head making a little hum under his breath.
"You keep kissing me," Brienne informed him, tilting her head back to peer up at him, "why do you keep kissing me?" She was trying to look stern but failing miserably as she had to keep biting back a smile.
"Because you're letting me," Jaime said quietly, kissing her forehead.
"Oh," Brienne sighed, "Good answer." She stretched against him like a cat and he almost expected to hear her purr. The bard's singing had faded into the background and it didn't seem to matter that they were in a room with so many people as contentment settled over them like a downy blanket.
Then Brienne gave a little start as she heard her name, and they both realized that the singing had stopped and the bard was watching them with an indulgent smile. It was him that had said Brienne's name, and more than once. People in couches and chairs and standing along the walls were all craning their necks, looking at them. Jaime smiled nonchalantly and raised an eyebrow at the bard, clearing asking him to repeat himself. He knew Brienne would be wishing the seven hells would swallow her up at that moment, but he had enough experience at facing down crowds for both of them.
"I was just telling the audience, Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne, that tonight marks the debut of a new song written in Lady Brienne's honor," the bard said in his carrying voice. "I was hoping the Lady would come up here and let me sing it for her."
Brienne seemed to shrink into the couch, and Jaime said with a wide grin, "I believe she would be more comfortable right where she is, but pray continue with your song." Despite his outward confidence, Jaime was a little afraid the song would be mocking, and if that was the case the bard would be plucking lute splinters out of his face for a week – if he was lucky. Jaime looked around at the faces turned to them, noting the smile on Loras' and Dwayne's faces, a solemn but unworried nod from Tyrion, and a look of mean spirited anticipation from Cersei. He noticed that she had pulled herself up more alertly on her couch, but even from here he could see the grease spot on the armrest of the couch where she had laid her head. He was surprised to see that his Dothraki guards had slipped into the room and were leaning against the wall. They gave him nearly identical broad smiles and he wondered if they had known about the song ahead of time, as he suspected that Tyrion and Ser Loras had. Jaime kissed the top of Brienne's head again and whispered to her that everything would be fine.
The bard had settled on his stool with his lute, and he had also draped a pan flute on a cord over his head. With a nod to Jaime and Brienne he announced, "The Ballad of Brienne the Brave," and, bringing the flute to his lips he began playing a haunting melody to lead into the song before picking up his lute and beginning to sing:
On a summer's day the Maid set sail
Traveling 'cross the Narrow Sea
She wore her armor over mail
Hoping someday a knight she'd be
Waves rocked and wild winds blew
Carrying her far from home
Away from Tarth and her waters blue
Never knowing how far she'd roam
Tall she stood, bright eyes alight
As salty spray blew back her hair
She wasn't a beauty, nor yet a knight
Though she had honor and her heart was fair
The maid was fearless, as she was Bold
Brienne the Brave, Brienne the true
Faithful as the knights of old
Brienne with eyes of sapphire blue
Other than the sound of the bard and his instrument the room was silent, caught in the spell of the man's silky voice. There were so many verses that Jaime was losing track, but it seemed to cover nearly Brienne's entire history since leaving Tarth, at least the well-known parts. He sang of Brienne's defeat of Loras and her rise to the Rainbow Guard, and then, following a string of mournful notes on the flute, he sang of Renly's death and Brienne's grief and subsequent flight with Catelyn Stark. Jaime looked over and saw tears in Ser Loras' eyes for his late lover, King Renly.
In a dungeon foul and dark
She and Ser Jaime took an oath
To twice doomed Lady Stark
'Twas a vow that bound them both
Brienne guarded her captive knight
Until he found a sword
He challenged the maid to fight
Oh, how that lion roared!
They battled, knight and maid
'Til in water she held him down
Ser Jaime was dismayed
So nearly did he drown
Then they heard the laughter
A sound they'd cause to fear
As they soon found after
When Bloody Mummers did appear
As the song began to recall Jaime and Brienne's capture and his maiming, Brienne held Jaime's stump protectively in her hands and nestled her head into his neck. Jaime was touched by how much the memory still had such an effect on her. He felt himself cringing also, but for her travails during that awful time rather than his.
The pair could not escape
That lawless stinking band
For Brienne they threatened rape
And severed the Kingslayer's hand
Vargo the Goat did maim
The realm's most famous knight
Took his paw, leaving him lame
A wounded lion, unable to fight
Brienne insisted "You cannot die
Oh Ser do not despair!
You must live and defy
The bloody mummer's snare."
But it was Brienne they made to stay
To entertain Hoat's ugly horde
They gave her to a bear to slay
Armed with a wooden sword
Just in time her knight arrived
And leapt into the ring
Because of him the maid survived
To take him to his king
The bard repeated the chorus before going on with the next verses:
Tall she stood, blue eyes alight
Possessed of ideals quite rare
She wasn't a beauty, nor yet a knight
But she was loyal and her heart was fair
The maid was fearless as she was Bold
Brienne the Brave, Brienne the true
Faithful as the knights of old
Brienne with eyes of sapphire blue
It's said that from those darkest days
Their love began to grow
And when they parted ways
Oathkeeper he did bestow
It was Valyrian steel she'd wield
Upon her noble quest
With a mare and oaken shield
At her true love's behest
Jaime wondered how anyone had guessed the truth of them back then when they hadn't even realized it themselves. The bard went on to chronicle Brienne's quest for Sansa Stark, her near death from Biter and Lady Stoneheart, and their victory over the Brotherhood. Such a long song, thought Jaime, it's a wonder everyone hasn't fallen asleep. He happened to glance over at Cersei, who was wide awake and seething as she glared at the bard. Perhaps she's guessed that this was happening when she was taking her walk of shame, Jaime thought.
He realized that a tear had silently slipped down Brienne's cheek when she raised her hand to wipe it away. Was it a tear of appreciation for the song, or because of all they had been through? Or, like him, was she struck by the evidence of their love for each other in everything they had done; not that the song was especially subtle in playing up the romantic elements.
Eventually the song flowed into their current time:
When the snow mounds like a wave
And all the world seems frozen
Goldenhand and Brienne the Brave
Fight for the cause they've chosen
Each night in dark and danger
They battle wights and Walkers White
Betwixt the Warrior and the Stranger
The Warrior Maid and her Knight
Some say she's secretly his bride
Her love, her knight, the lion-hearted
Meant to be always side by side
And never to be parted.
The song finished with a repeat of the chorus and as the last melancholy notes of the flute skirled away into the room, whistles and applause rang out from every corner. "You okay?" Jaime asked Brienne and felt her nod. "It's almost time to leave," he told her, seeing Lavakhat and Hemikh leave the room, but not before they gave the couple an approving look.
"Good," said Brienne, her voice a little shaky, "as soon as people get absorbed with something else, let's go."
That something else was the first familiar jaunty string of notes announcing "Queen Cersei's Strumpet Stomp," which had people gleefully making their way to the dance floor. Cersei's face flamed in fury that the song was being played in her presence, but half the audience seemed to forget she was even the subject of the song. Although they might not have even recognized her with her hair clumped in bear grease.
Brad the Bard led the crowd in the moves that went with the song.
Everybody come and do the Stomp
Cersei's Strumpet Stomp
And he stomped his feet and kicked up his knees in a one-one-two rhythm.
So ladies curtsey and lords bow
All it takes is a little pomp
It's easy once you know how
Come join us for a bawdy romp!
Bowing and leering looks…
Beautiful Queen Cersei had a lust
That she sated upon her back
All it took was a little thrust
From the brothers Kettleblack
Everyone knew this move as they aggressively thrust their pelvises at each other, most of them not bothering to stifle their leering giggles.
Come everybody and do the Stomp
Cersei's Strumpet Stomp!
They say Queen Cersei was a whore
Who only wanted a good fuck
She had King Robert but needed more
And swapped the Stag for a young buck!
A back kick and a hip bump with another participant.
Slutty Queen Cersei had a lust
And all it took was a little thrust!
Another group thrust, looking more than a little obscene.
Everybody now, do the Stomp!
We'll have us a bawdy romp!
And as the dancers continued to kick and stamp their feet Jaime and Brienne took off the coverlet, got off the couch, and hastily left the room. Jaime was grateful he hadn't gotten a mention in the song, but he knew that some people would read his place into it anyway. He would have tried to leave at the first note if they hadn't already been under scrutiny for Brienne's ballad.
Outside the door Brienne squeezed Jaime's hand and asked, "Are you okay? I know that song bothers you."
"I can handle it," Jaime told her, though his expression gave away the disgust he still carried for what he had gone through with Cersei. Lancel and the Kettleblacks and probably Moon Boy. What excellent company, he thought. "Does that song bother you much?" he asked her curiously.
"It used to bother me more," Brienne admitted as they began walking toward the Maidenvault.
"Why 'used to'?" Jaime asked.
"Because I never knew if you were still in love with Cersei or not."
Jaime looked over at her in the dim light and tilted his head, "You didn't really think I could still be in love with her, did you?"
"No," Brienne allowed, "I was pretty sure you were past that madness, but I did wonder if once you were near her again if you would end up between her legs." Brienne blushed, but held Jaime's eyes, watching for his response.
Jaime sucked in a breath and pulled her to a stop in the middle of the corridor. "You can't really have thought I was that stupid?"
"You are a man," she sighed, and tugged his hand to get him walking again. It wasn't really an answer Jaime knew what to do with. If he pulled her to him for a kiss, he would appear to be only interested in physical pleasure with any woman, even though his intention was to show her that she was the only woman he wanted. But he couldn't actually deny that he was a man, since obviously he was, with all a man's foibles and needs. It wasn't often she managed to leave him speechless, but this time she had. This really wasn't the time or place for declarations and promises, was it?
They finally reached the deserted alcove they had been headed toward and stepped into its shadows. They swapped boots and cloaks quickly, then stood back to examine one another. Jaime had pulled Brienne's midnight blue hood over his head so that his face was in shadow. At a glance he could be anybody, and with the Tarth sigil most people would just assume he was Brienne, especially with her distinctive boots on. He was a little shorter than her, but no enough to raise suspicion. Brienne reached out and ran her hand along his smooth angular jawline.
"Gods, if I were only as pretty as you," she said with a little smile. Jaime moved his head to kiss the palm of her hand, knowing arguing that point would be useless. He was not unaware of his attractiveness even though he tended to take it for granted.
He hesitated a moment and then said, "You are beautiful to me," hoping he wouldn't sound trite. Before Brienne could hide from the compliment he pulled her in for a lingering kiss that left her a little breathless. Jaime stepped back and looked her over. "I like you in my red cloak," he said admiringly, allowing his smile to turn sly. Brienne narrowed her eyes at him.
"I guess since according to the song I'm your secret bride it's appropriate, right?" and bit her bottom lip on a demure smile.
Jaime laughed, "But not so secretly my Wench. I need to go watch Hemikh work his magic. See you in a little while?" Brienne leaned in and kissed his lips briefly before she turned and strode away. Jaime watched her go, his red cloak floating out behind her.
