Jaime settled into the bed, relieved to be back in their nest of blankets and next to Brienne's warm skin. He'd retrieved his already soiled breeches and used them to clean his seed off of them both and then tossed them back on the floor. Jaime had expected the task to be a bit awkward, but Brienne hadn't been bothered by the mess aside from briefly dissolving into ticklish laughter when he tried to wipe her belly clean.
Now she relaxed next to him with one long leg thrown over his and her head on his shoulder, her hair fanned out to mingle with his chest hair. Jaime watched as she lightly drew circles through it with the tips of her fingers, swirling her fine, fair hair and his reddish-blond pelt in random patterns. Brienne's earlier anxiety from her nightmare seemed far away. He wondered what she was thinking about now that made her so peaceful.
With the glow of their coupling still upon them, both lapsed into a comfortable silence. Could it be considered coupling, he wondered, even though his cock hadn't been inside of her? It wasn't fucking, but the intimacy and connection they shared was so intense that in a way he felt like they had. He felt fulfilled, and not just from how good it felt to touch her and please her. Finally being able to really express how much he loved her was like removing iron shackles that he hadn't known he wore.
Jaime thought about the bard singing Brienne the Brave the night before; the lyrics about how they had come to love each other were eerily close to the truth. At one time he might have said he first fell in love with her on the Quiet Isle when he'd almost lost her after their battle with Lady Stoneheart. Brienne's wounds had been grievous; not just the broken arm and the re-infected bite to her cheek, but the deep sword slash she had taken high on her leg that she had almost bled-out from.
Now he knew that he'd only realized he loved her then. When had his love for her first taken root? Was it the first time I fought her sword to sword? No, I didn't love her then; I would have killed her if I could have, but she was stronger than me. Jaime didn't like to dwell on how much poorer his life would be if had he prevailed in that fight. During their journey with his cousin Cleos he had already started to feel a strong respect and fascination for Brienne, but saving his own neck had been far more important to him than anything else.
After his hand had been severed Brienne had taunted him into staying alive by calling him craven and awakening the hope for revenge in him. The Bloody Mummers had practically made her his nursemaid, forcing her to take care of him as though he were a child not yet out of swaddling clothes. It had been humiliating, but Brienne was respectful and never pitying. That endless, macabre journey bound them together in ways neither could have guessed. Jaime hadn't yet started to love her, but the seeds of something stronger than regard and friendship were planted.
The bathhouse at Harrenhal, the first time the woman stirred my blood, he remembered. Feeling a little more alive after Qyburn's ministrations, he'd regained his cutting wit and lost no time in belittling Brienne, even after all she'd done for him. She had risen up from the water, tall and proud, water streaming off of her like a goddess of the sea, daring him to mock her further. She had shamed him, shown him what real honor looked like. Jaime had apologized, asked for a truce, and then told her his secrets. She caught me when I fell, Jaime remembered with a smile, naked and wet and strong, yet so gentle.
Still, he left her behind in Harrenhal, believing she would be ransomed and returned to her father on Tarth. The disturbing feelings she had awoken in him would dissipate; he would return to Cersei, his real woman. Leagues away from either of them he'd slept with his head upon some weirwood stump and dreamed. In the dream when his beloved sister left him to his own darkness Brienne had been there to light the way when his own light had faltered. He had seen her for the woman, the knight, the beauty that she was. It didn't hurt that they were naked in the dream, he mused. By the time he jumped in that bear pit, he must have already been half in love with her.
Jaime wondered when Brienne had come to love him. Not the kind of love they'd felt for each other for years now, the platonic love that kept them bound together, kept her by his side. No, he thought, it hasn't been platonic for a long time, has it? Jaime knew that desire didn't always equal love, of course, but they went quite well together for them.
The storm still raged outside and the quality of light had changed, which meant that the sun was up somewhere beyond the clouds. Jaime's troops would probably just be bedding down in the north unless the days had grown even shorter. He wondered if Ser Addam still lived and how many of their fighters survived. From time to time men, and occasionally women, arrived from outlying areas to replenish their forces, but they were never enough. Desertion was a factor that sometimes lessened their number; deserters seldom survived on their own, but it was nearly impossible to account for men lost and burned in battle, so the true numbers were never known.
Jaime wished there was a way to fight the Others more effectively. It often felt futile to keep fighting them; their forces seemed infinite, attrition only lessening their numbers for a handful of nights before they were back in overwhelming force. He often wondered where they all came from. Did they breed, or were they risen from the long-dead? Some said White Walkers were made from human children, transformed and raised among the Others. Jaime doubted this; their numbers were too vast to come solely from such a source. Eight thousand years, the last time the White Walkers had threatened, seemed a long time to be culling children to build their numbers. They would have to be extremely long-lived.
Was there a vast kingdom of them further north than humans had ever gone, with fresh troops moving in to replace the White Walkers shattered or burned in battle? No one had ever seen a Walker that seemed to be female, so either there were none of they stayed farther north, safely breeding more of the demons. Jaime knew that wights were nothing more than reanimated dead, as were the disintegrating horses and pack animals sometimes ridden by the Walkers.
But the ice spiders: were they spun from the rime to answer their master's call, or were they hatched somewhere, swarming in their thousands from egg sacs woven from hoarfrost and terror? Some old legends made mention of ice dragons as well, but Jaime hoped those were just a fanciful stories invented to entertain children. If one believed in those, they may as well believe in unicorns and snow bears.
Jaime's thoughts became distracted as he felt Brienne's fingers start to roam down his chest, following the line of hair trailing from between his ribs to his groin. She was caressing and lightly running her fingernails along his belly, and he caught his breath and held it, watching as she quietly explored. His hand had been resting in Brienne's hair, but his fingers flexed into her tresses as she began softly stroking the short hair surrounding the root of his cock.
"Really, Wench," he choked out, "I wouldn't want to disappoint you, but my sword is unlikely to rise to any challenge right now. Twice in one night after so long with only my poor left hand to wield it is probably my limit."
Despite his words, he could feel the blood rushing down; strangely light-headed, he felt as though he were floating in the warm seas near his boyhood home on Casterly Rock.
Brienne brushed her lips though his chest hair. "I'm not trying to make it 'rise,' Ser," she told him, a smile in her voice. "But as you have so boldly touched me where I had no more than dreamed of feeling you before, I thought it only fair that I be allowed to take your measure as well." She had not lifted her head to look at Jaime, preferring to see what she was doing to him.
"My measure?" he said, "I fear it will do me no credit for you to take my measure at this moment," though he felt the valiant stirrings of desire, he knew well enough that as good as she was making him feel his cock would need time to recover.
"Not what I meant, sweetling," Brienne said, "you needn't be forged of hard steel for this," And she ran her fingers over his limp cock, wrapped them around it and rubbing her thumb along the head of it, learning its contours.
"Sweetling?" he asked in a strangled voice as his eyes closed. His blood pulsed as she gently touched his exquisitely sensitive flesh, eventually brushing her fingers over his balls and down his inner thighs. "Oh, gods, Wench, you're, ah, you're killing me. Come up and kiss me, my love."
Brienne turned so that she was across his chest facing him, the tips of her breasts brushing against him. Her eyes were wide and shining even in the low light of the room. She looked half shy and half triumphant over her boldness. She slipped her arms under his and kissed his lips. He gathered her to him, wishing he still had both hands to hold her with. Jaime knew Brienne never thought the less of him for losing what he had at one time considered his most valuable asset.
"I have something to show you later," he whispered in her ear.
"Have I not seen it all?"
"Oh, Wench, you have seen nothing yet. But I was speaking of something special that Toby Mott gave me when I was at his shop yesterday. Do you think we'll get a chance to spar today?"
"I hope so. I have missed sparring with you. I mean," she said, "the way we normally do." Jaime laughed. "I'm looking forward to seeing Mott's wares. Hemikh and Lavakhat tell me his daggers are beautiful."
So lucky to have a wench who knows what real beauty is, thought Jaime. "Maybe tomorrow? I'll send word to him today. I'd like for you to meet him and his wife. But I warn you, they'll make you hold their new baby."
"Oh? Did they make you hold it? Boy or girl?"
"Yes, I had to hold it. They tell me it's a girl."
"They tell you she is a girl, Jaime."
"Oh, right. Anyway, it was the first time I'd ever held a baby before." Jaime grinned, remembering. "She pulled my hair and my beard. Must just be something girls do."
"The first time, Jaime? You never held your own children, even once?"
"Cersei wouldn't allow it, said it was 'too dangerous' to show interest. I wish I hadn't listened to her." Jaime said sadly, "if I had been able to hold them I might have felt more connected to them. Maybe it was for the best, though."
"Oh, Jaime. How sad."
"Now that Tommen knows I am his sire I wish I'd had more time with him. Robert was a rotten father and Tommen deserved at least one sane parent. Poor Myrcella is well beyond my reach now, but at least I got to spend some time with the lad."
"Did you like holding Mott's baby? What was her name?"
Jaime laughed, "Merrie Pie, of all things. Why would they call her after some kind of dessert?"
"Pretty sure that would be a nickname," Brienne said drily, "like if I were to call you 'Jaime-pie'. It's an endearment."
"'Brienne-pie," Jaime said, testing it out. "Nope, doesn't really sound right."
"You know what I meant," Brienne said, "it has to go with the name. Let's see, Jaime…Jaime-bug? Jaime-boo? Jaime sweetling sugar pie?"
"Gods, no, Brienne. You wouldn't." Jaime chortled, "I am a grown man with a reputation to uphold."
"For being a big, soft, cuddle bear, you mean." Brienne told him, growling into his neck and nipping it lightly.
"Brienne-cuddle bear!" Jaime laughed, "Oh, I see what you mean, now. I like that one. Come, Cuddly Bear, Brienne Bear, why do you – ow! – bite me so?"
Brienne got up on her knees and straddled his middle. Jaime felt her warm thatch against his belly and his cock began to swell some as he looked up at her, her nipples tantalizing pink and erect just above his face. He propped himself on his elbows so he could take one in his mouth, sucking it in between his teeth. Brienne moaned low in her throat and rubbed her cunt against him.
There was a loud knock at the door.
"Fuck." They said simultaneously and then laughed. Brienne quickly got off of Jaime and dove under the covers. Jaime got off the bed and looked around for something to wrap around himself. He briefly considered his pants of the night before, stiffening with old cum on the floor, and quickly went to the chest of drawers to grab Brienne's old night breeches.
"Help me on with these, Wench," he hissed, holding them out. Brienne looked at the door, assuring herself it was locked, and quickly grabbed the breeches, holding the waist open for Jaime to step into and then pulling them up over. They didn't bother to lace them before Brienne tucked herself back into the blankets and he went to open the door.
A maidservant stood there, with a little cart piled with linens and candles just behind her.
"Ser Jaime?" she said in a high, sweet voice, "I'm Agnes. I'm to be looking after you and the Lady." She seemed to be around Brienne's age, perhaps in her early twenties.
"Come in," Jaime told her, stepping aside so that she could enter the room. Agnes glanced briefly at the half-hard bulge still pressing against Jaime's breeches before stepping into the room and looking over at Brienne. "This is Brienne of Tarth," he told her, gesturing over to Brienne peeking out of the sheets.
Agnes looked at Brienne, her light brown eyes lighting up. "M'lady, it is an honor to be in your service. I have heard much about your valor on the field, M'lady, and seen you about the Maidenvault as well." Agnes let her lips turn up in a little smile, "so it is true then, what they say about m'lord and lady?"
Jaime grinned at Brienne over Agnes' head. "Of course it is true." He said at the same time Brienne said "What's true?"
Agnes chose to answer Brienne, "It is said that the two of you are never far apart. If you'll pardon my saying, m'lady, but there's rumors that the two of you secretly married up in the north and have a bairn hidden away in Winterfell being cared for by the Lady Sansa."
Jaime laughed and Brienne blushed. Watch her wriggle out of this, naked as a mole rat in the bed we slept in.
"I am sorry to say, Agnes, but those are just rumors. There is no bairn hidden away." Jaime told her, giving Brienne a cutting smile as she glared at him. He knew she would be flinging a pillow at him if she could have without exposing herself.
"Oh," Agnes said, disappointed, "it sounded so romantic! Word of Lady Brienne's new song is all over the Keep, m'lord. I must tell you, I much prefer it to the other songs they sing of the two of you, which are much bawdier. Although," she said, with a sly look at Jaime's breeches, "I can see how such rumors could catch on."
"Can we trust in your discretion, Agnes?" Jaime said sternly, "Godfrey assured me that we could."
"Aye, m'lord, and m'lady, I would never breathe a word about the two of you. As I said, mum," she nodded to Brienne, who was looking daggers at Jaime, "I am ever so proud to look after you. I was grateful to get the chance, after my last assignment."
"And what was your last assignment, Agnes?" Jaime asked.
"Oh, Ser, if I tell you it might be you won't be trusting me to take care of the two of you."
"I promise we'll trust you. Now tell."
"I was assigned to the former queen, Ser, to your sister Cersei. I accidentally washed her hair with bear grease, Ser, and just ran for my life before she found out."
Jaime guffawed and Brienne tried to hide her smile. "You were afraid of her then?"
Oh, yes, Ser, my lady," Agnes said, widening her eyes at them, "She's frightful when she's angry. I tried my best to keep her happy, and I don't know how the bear grease got in that jar. I know she had to fuck Godfrey the Moan to even get a maid, Ser, but I had to fuck 'im to get out of being her maid." She looked from Jaime to Brienne and blushed, "Oops, my apologies. That wasn't very discreet, now was it?"
Jaime was grinning widely, his dimples overcoming any shyness Agnes might have had in continuing to share her gossip with them. "As it happens, Agnes, the lady and I hope to avoid Cersei if at all possible. If you can help us do that we'll be most grateful." Jaime told her.
Agnes nodded, and whispered, "So that's true, too, then?" Jaime looked warily at Brienne, who shrugged resignedly.
"What is true, Agnes?" Jaime asked, hoping he wouldn't have to hear Agnes recount that everyone knew he had fathered Cersei's children.
"It's true that she's wildly jealous of Lady Brienne? She should be, Ser."
Jaime smiled and patted Agnes fondly on the head. "You'll do just fine, Agnes."
"Oh, thank you, Ser, m'lady!" she said. "Can I do anything for you now? I've brung new linens and candles…"
I think for now the lady and I need a little privacy," Jaime told her, "I need to get ready to sneak past the lady that guards the door, and Lady Brienne didn't get much sleep last night." He almost ducked, expecting a Stark Swan pillow to fly through the air.
"Oh, Helyn? She's not at the door just now, Ser. She told me she had to see a horse about a man? Or was that a man about a horse? Though she mighta been drinking, m'lord, because it sounded like she said a man like a horse. I don't know when she'll be back at her post. Her older sister, Felyse, is sitting in for her, but she's blind as a cave newt."
"All the same, Agnes, if you could come back in an hour or so? And later tonight we'll be wanting a hot bath. And a large tub, if you can get us one."
