While handing Sean and Fluffy's reins over to the groom, Jaime noticed there was a training session going on in the yard. The wavering light of burning torches held by armored fighters revealed their presence in the darkness and falling snow. Trails of light illuminated arms, faces, and the quicksilver reflection sparking off their swords as the streaming torches were swung through the air at imaginary foes, phantom lines of light slowly fading back into a single point of light when the flaming weapons stilled as inexperienced fighters awaiting their next instruction.

Jaime knew what they were practicing. This was the supposed to be like the deadly dance they fought in the north, where lives depended on the ability to strike or defend with a sword and destroy with fire, though it looked like child's play compared to what it was really like to face the Others in the night.

Missing were the screams of fighting men and women, the horrifying screeches and growls from the ruined throats of the wights, the crackling of burning flesh, the indescribable malevolence of the White Walkers' ice blue eyes that seemed to burn right into your soul.

Had Ser Barristan told the recruits about the bowel-loosening horror of the first time one of those cursed creatures looked into your eyes? Would he have warned them that no matter how prepared you might believe you were with sword and torch; terror could kill you by making you hesitate for mere seconds

Laughter rang out in the yard, along with cheers of encouragement. Enjoy it now, Jaime thought sadly, for merriment will surely desert you in the long night.

"Jaime?" Brienne said, laying her hand on his arm.

He turned and saw the haunted look in her eyes that reflected his own. He smiled grimly.

"It won't be so bad, you know," Brienne told him quietly, "They'll have Cersei to freeze the balls off the Others with a single look."

"You're assuming they have balls to freeze. Or set fire to…" Jaime smiled.

"Maybe someday we can capture one and find out," Brienne said lightly, "Then we'll send Cersei in to search its breeches."

"You are a resentful wench, aren't you?" Jaime said, his sudden laughter infecting Brienne until she, too, was chuckling.

"I've never denied it. Shall we leave them to play White Walker tag out here in the dark? I'd like to go back to our room now."

Jaime leaned in to kiss her, his lips caressing hers until they were both breathless.

"I like that idea," he said, not moving away from her mouth, "Very much."

Brienne's eyes were closed and she sighed softly. Jaime doubted she realized how sensuous that little exhale was, how it affected him when she didn't try to hide how much she wanted him.

They continued on to the armory arms laden with weapons and gear, walking as close together as they could, bumping against one another like a couple of kids.

They put their gear away neatly, all except Brienne's new dagger, which she proudly kept on her belt. Jaime noticed her hand straying to the hilt, her long fingers brushing the golden lion and tracing the crescent moons of Tarth curving over the blade. It had turned out even more beautifully than he'd hoped, and Brienne's obvious pleasure in it made him wish he had another dozen such to give her.

Over the years they'd exchanged many small gifts, many of them surprisingly personal. The leather vambrace she'd commissioned to keep his stump warm and protected was well-loved and oft-worn, the original red faded with use. His gift of a scarf made from the softest angora wool and dyed blue to match her eyes was seldom far from Brienne's skin; she even wore it under her armor at times.

The first gift Jaime had given to Brienne had been unmatched for value and rarity. Oathkeeper had saved both their lives more than once, though the deed of giving it to her had nearly cost hers. Which reminded him: he had a special quest of his own tonight, and this time he would not be distracted from it.

The armory was very close to the serpentine steps and they were soon ascending them hand in hand, two steps at a time. Their cloaks mingled in the wind as they crossed the bridge that took them past the mounted heads, barely visible beyond the flames from the mounted torches.

Once inside Maegor's Holdfast their long strides took them through the halls quickly. They'd just turned the last corner into their corridor when they nearly collided with Tyrion, who leapt to the side with surprising agility.

"I've seen charging destriers that were less dangerous than the two of you," he gasped, patting his hands up and down himself as though checking for injury.

"Oh come now, didn't the sound of our mighty hooves warn you?" Jaime said unsympathetically.

Brienne snorted with laughter, "Next time we'll just whinny as we trot down the hall, shall we?"

"You two are so droll," Tyrion muttered, craning to look up at them. "Gods, your children will be monsters."

Jaime laughed, though he hoped Brienne wouldn't find his brother's jape offensive. Tyrion had been called a monster all his life; suggesting extra height was monstrous was the kind of irony he enjoyed.

"Were you looking for us, or just roaming the halls like a lost child?"

"I was hoping to speak to you about the dragons. Shall we talk in your chambers?"

Jaime looked at Brienne, who blushed. He had no difficultly figuring out why: she wanted him alone, and soon. He might have laughed at how merely being caught thinking about sex made her blush, but knowing how much she wanted him was making him flushed as well.

"Can it wait, Tyrion? We've had a long day, and my woman is ready for her bed,"

Brienne dug her short fingernails into his palm as hard as she could. Tyrion didn't miss his innuendo any more than she did.

"Yes, I'm sure you are both tired. Well, we can talk more in the morning. The Queen has acquiesced to your requests for the most part. She is expecting you to begin training Viserion tomorrow," he said to Brienne, who nodded. "I'll send word so we can break our fast together."

"Thank you, Tyrion," Brienne said, "Has the Queen agreed to give me Lavakhat and Hemikh as assistants?"

"Yes, she says you may have as many Dothraki as you need. Unsullied, too. "

"They've been told?"

"Lavakhat and Hemikh? Yes; they're to go out early tomorrow so that Ashefa can familiarize them with the dragons and how to feed and control them. Well, as much as anyone can control them."

"Thanks, Tyrion," Jaime said, raising his eyebrows at him: are we done yet?

"Sleep well, you two." Tyrion said with a smirk and turned to walk back the way he'd come.

When he was out of sight Jaime turned to Brienne and took his hand from hers. Her look of curiosity was banished when he pulled her to him and began kissing her from neck to jaw. Rather than stiffening in surprise she leaned into him, sighing.

"I need to take you to bed, Wench," he breathed in her ear.

"And I, you," she answered.

Jaime stepped back, looking into her eyes, the desire and love he saw in them sending the sweetest ache through his chest.

"Doesn't have to be bed, though," he grinned, backing her against the wall, "I'd take you right here if I could."

"Mmm, you could," Brienne said, moving one thigh between his, "but it might be a little complicated with both of us in breeches. I think I've just thought of the only advantage to wearing a dress."

"You mean if you were wearing a dress you'd let me fuck you right here?"

The stone wall was at her back as he pressed against her, the feel of her strong thigh between his legs making him reckless. He put his lips to her neck again, layering it with small biting kisses until he found the place where her pulse was strongest.

When he began to suckle there Brienne inhaled shakily, "If I were wearing a dress I might fuck you right here, Jaime. But I'm not, so before either of us loses the ability to walk…"

"I want you, Brienne," Jaime said hoarsely, "I've wanted you for so long, and I will never stop wanting you, now I've got you."

"Jaime…Jaime, you know I want you, too. I need you. But right now I need you to stop making me wanton in this hall. We're going to our chambers – now."

He chuckled against her neck and stepped back, capturing her hand in his to tug her toward their door. When they crossed the threshold of their rooms both were laughing breathlessly. Jaime shut and locked the door and playfully pressed Brienne against it.

"Okay, we're inside, away from curious eyes," he said, grinning as he slid the jerkin off her shoulders.

Brienne helped by shrugging the garment off, then began taking off the sword belt she'd buckled around Jaime's hips that morning. She took her time with the familiar ritual, infusing it with erotic intent when her hands brushed against his erection as she gathered the belt and sword to set them aside. Jaime's eyes were closed, his head back. This had been a fantasy of his for so long, not needing to hide how arousing this had always been.

Brienne kissed the apple of his throat as she moved closer to lift his tunic. He let her pull it over his head, and then reached for her belt as well. Jaime cursed the lack of his hand when she needed to help him remove it, but after, moving his arms and hand along her back as he lifted her tunic off, made him miss it less. She felt so strong and alive where he touched her warm skin.

Once her tunic had been cast aside, Jaime lowered his head to her breast to take one plump nipple into his mouth as she arched, sighing, against him. He caressed her mound with his stump, tentatively exploring another fantasy he'd nurtured for a long time. When Brienne groaned and held it against her, seeking greater pressure from his maimed arm, he felt overcome; acceptance, desire, love. His eyes closed, burning with emotion.

Brienne threaded her hands into his hair and tugged until he released her breast and looked up at her. She was flushed, breathing fast. He straightened while she raised his tunic, pausing just long enough for her to get it off before he leaned in to kiss her again.

"Bed," she said before he could render her speechless again, and he smiled against her lips.

"I thought you wanted me to take you against the door?"

"We have a lifetime ahead of having to fuck in awkward positions. Right now I'd like the novelty of a soft bed."

Laughing, Jaime looked her up and down, "I could make it good, Wench."

"I'm sure you could. Another time." She took his arm and towed him toward the bed chamber.

Candles burned on the bedside tables and the room was tidy. Agnes had obviously been in to make things comfortable for them.

They quickly shed boots and breeches and fell onto the bed together. Lying side by side they moved against each other, legs sliding against hips, lips on skin, soft hair against hard muscle, wrapping around one another in a slow exploration at odds with the rapid beating of their hearts.

When it was no longer enough for Brienne, she rolled them until Jamie was on his back with her lying on top of him, aligned chest to shins and looking down at him triumphantly. Jaime opened his legs for her to lie between and she reached down to rub his cock where it throbbed beneath her belly. Jaime shuddered and raised his hips as she squeezed his hard length and teased the base and tip with her thumb. He raised his head and tried to capture her lips in a frantic kiss as the pressure of her hands and body made him incoherent with need.

When Brienne planted her knees on either side of his hips and rose, breaking contract, Jaime groaned and tried to pull her back. He'd not long to suffer as she quickly settled down, straddling him. The wet heat between her legs was seductively close, so close that if she shifted just a bit forward one thrust would put him at her entrance.

Gone were his intentions of carefully bringing her to climax before entering her. As she wrapped her hand around his cock again his only awareness was the yearning to be one with her; an ache of need flaring from his core and wreathing them both in a haze of desire.

He couldn't speak, could only look up at his beloved from half-closed eyes. Brienne was watching him, her chest heaving, hair curtaining her face and veiling her eyes in shadow. Jaime could still discern the spark in them, the familiar joy and burn of battle he knew and loved in her. She leaned forward and he reached out to sweep the hair from her face. As his fingers brushed against her cheek she took his cock and guided it to her entrance.

The sensation of her lowering herself over him, slowly taking him inside, drew a shuddering moan from him. When his entire cock was tightly sheathed in her, he felt her inner walls clenching him, claiming him. Brienne drew in a shaky breath, then another, savoring the feel of him in this new position. She leaned forward and braced herself with her hands beside him, pulling away from his cock.

Jaime wanted to thrust back inside, demand she stay. He watched her concentrating on the sensation of him sliding out of her. When she stilled above him, just the head of his cock still inside, their eyes met, and Brienne suddenly grinned at him, an expression he knew well from sparring with her. It was her tell that she was about to do something

She sat back down his cock so hard it jolted them both when it rammed into her awkwardly and they both grunted. A slight grimace flashed across Brienne's face, but she recovered in seconds and began to move on him more gently, taking her weight off her hands to caress his chest. She rocked her hips over him, and he began thrusting into her. They soon found their rhythm and began moving together strongly.

"Oh, Wench," Jaime groaned.

He raised his hand to lightly pinch one of her nipples. She gasped when he lightly twisted and pulled the pink bud, feeling her pleasure as she clenched his cock harder within her.

He stopped teasing and looked at the small bud, swollen hard and now a darker pink than the other. He wanted to suck it into his mouth and make her writhe; he wanted to roll the other in his fingers until both were aching with the need for his mouth and tongue.

"Wench, I have an idea,"

"Now?" Brienne panted.

"Let's go do this on one of the chairs."

"A chair?" she said doubtfully, ceasing to move on him.

"Trust me,"

She got off of him, the air hitting his wet cock unpleasantly. Probably for the best, he thought; he was so close…

He led her to the parlor and found an armless chair. Briefly regretting the embroidery he'd soon have embossed on his ass, he sat down, his cock jutting up, rigid and ready for Brienne. Uncertainty in her eyes, she lowered herself onto Jaime's lap. As his cock filled her and they began moving together, doubt gave way to elation.

Jaime leaned forward and took a nipple in his mouth, suckling it as he toyed with the other, rolling it between his finger and thumb. Brienne wrapped her hands in his hair, holding him to her. Unable to hold back, she began to moan and sigh, soft little grunts wrung from her as her excitement built. The sound of her in ecstasy was driving Jaime to the brink, testing his limits.

He lowered his hand so he could rub her clit with this thumb and curl his fingers against the swollen flesh near her entrance. At his touch she gasped out his name, and he could sense her release building.

Soon their rhythm became erratic, only Jaime's mouth on Brienne's breast keeping them anchored on the chair as she bucked against him, calling his name over and over until she began to shake on top of him, her core contracting around his cock in waves, sweeping him up in her climax until they were both crying out, breaking apart and coming together as one.

After, slick with sweat and breathing hard, they clung to each other for long moments before Jaime huffed out a small laugh against Brienne's throat.

"My Wench," he said.

Brienne hummed into his neck, accepting the praise, astonishment, and satisfaction conveyed in those two words.

She straightened to smile down at him, "I'd heard nothing but better than fighting but sex, but now I truly believe it."

"Are you telling me our other times weren'tbetter than fighting?"

"Not at all, but they didn't remind me as much of fighting. This...I shall never be able to spar with you in front of people again without blushing."

"You already do that, Wench."

"Oh. Well, no one will guess what I'm thinking about if I usually blush then."

Jaime chuckled, "Why is it, do you think, that everyone's believed I've been bedding you all along?"

Brienne's eyes widened at the implication, indignant at first, then resigned, "I knew I should have seduced you years ago. After all, if no one thought I had any virtue to protect -"

"If it had been that easy," Jaime said, making to rise, "But nothing was ever that simple. Still, you probably could have convinced me."

They stood up, and Jaime took her hand to lead her into the bedroom, "I certainly yielded readily enough tonight."

He led her to the bath alcove and got them each a small towel to wipe off with. His thighs were sticky with sweat and seed and hers would be as well.

"I can call for a bath, if you like." He said.

"In the morning. For now the privy will do fine, if you wouldn't mind giving me some privacy."

Jaime bowed slightly and left her to go behind the curtain, smiling at her modesty.

He didn't think he'd ever felt so utterly exposed and vulnerable as when she'd mounted him earlier, stealing from him his every rational thought.

Vulnerable…the word caught at him as he sat on the edge of the bed. They were safe together, in trust and love. But physically, tough and competent as they were, the fragility of skin and bones would always worry him, especially with the dragon training looming. Seeing her hurt, losing her, would rip him apart.

Jaime still needed to find the scar on Brienne's inner thigh, where the wound she'd taken in the battle with Lady Stoneheart and the Brotherhood Without Banners had nearly cost her life.

Brienne walked to the basin on the dressing table and washed her hands. He watched her, unabashedly admiring her bottom as she bent to splash water on her face. She looked up and caught him watching in the mirror and shifted her hips a little to see his reaction. She laughed when he tilted his head like a curious dog before meeting her eyes in the mirror.

"Unless you're ready for another bout, Ser, I think it's time we were abed." She said, coming to stand between his thighs where he sat on the bed.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and rubbed his head against her, a lion with his lioness.

"I think I could probably manage another if you can, my Lady, though I was ridden hard and stabled wet."

"Yes, a rub down with a twist of hay is just what you need after that. Here, let me go so I can lay down with you. My bones have turned to mush and I can barely stand."

Jaime used his grip on her waist to pull her onto the bed on top of him.

"Oof, isn't this how all this started?" he said, kissing her shoulder. His cock stirred between them, mostly spent, but valiantly trying to rise to the temptation. Brienne rolled off of him, but hooked a leg over his hip as he turned to her.

"Brienne, I know it seems odd, but I'd like to see the scar on your leg from when we fought the Brotherhood."

She looked at him curiously, "It is long since healed, Jaime. You saw to that, much to my dismay."

"Dismay? I was trying to take care of you, Wench, until you refused to allow it. But you always were stubborn and independent, even when it endangered your life."

"My life wasn't in danger by then, and I had endured enough mortification from your care. Did it not occur to you that a maid wouldn't want a man cleaning and dressing a wound that required him to touch her so close to her smallclothes?"

Jaime remembered how she'd flinched away from him when he'd ministered to the healing cut. At the time he'd thought it pained her still, but he also recalled her shyness as his fingers touched her tender inner thigh, the tears standing in her eyes as she'd looked away from him. He'd known by then that he loved her, but had yet to see any hint she felt the same. She was his to protect and it was his fault for sending her into such danger that she'd been so gravely injured.

"I was careful not to touch you inappropriately, Wench. The Silent Brothers tended your wound and I never saw you flinch away from them."

"Do you not recall what the Brotherhood called me, Jaime? 'Kingslayer's whore.'"

"But they were all dead or escaped, why should you care what they called you? You have been called worse, even by me, maybe especially by me, and not allowed it to affect you."

Brienne rested her head on her outstretched arm, considering him. "You know why they called me that; I called for you when I was in my delirium, over and over,"

"As you did on the Quiet Isle. You needed my help. It didn't make you my whore."

"I didn't just call for you, Jaime. Before…before Rorge, and Biter, before Stoneheart, I dreamed of you. I dreamed of you when I lay down to sleep, I thought of you when I was awake, and though I tried to keep the yearning at bay, I had already fallen. I was desperate not to be in love with you, Jaime." She paused, her face sad with the memory, "And there you were, the man I was trying not to love, Ser Jaime Lannister, with his hands upon me, so gentle and intimate there between my legs, not even a harsh word on your lips to enable me to fight you, to go back to the comfort of disliking you."

"You didn't want me to take care of you becauseyou'd come to care for me?" Jaime asked, thinking back to how she'd avoided looking at him, had drawn so far away from him that he'd thought she would never forgive him for all that happened after he'd sent her from King's Landing. She'd been in love, then…

"I never told you what else they said: 'there's a stink of lion about you, lady.'"

"They were prophets then, my love, for I have certainly marked you out as mine since."

At last she smiled, "I fear your scent is heavy upon me now, my Lord, but I no longer mind."

"You are soon to be a lioness, and you have made me yours as well," Jaime said, getting up on his knees, "Will you let me find the scar, then? Without flinching?"

"I'll try, love."

"Go lay your head upon the pillow, and I will look," Jaime said, a strange mood upon him. His memory of those early days after Stoneheart was shifting with the new knowledge of Brienne's feelings for him. All that time, from before the first time he'd held her in sleep on their quest for Sansa, they'd both been in love. Would their love have endured had they known and acted on it then?

Brienne moved up the bed and lay back with her head on the Stark Swan pillow, her hands clasped over her belly.

"We were meant to be," Jaime said, almost to himself, "But we lost so much time."

"We were together," Brienne sighed, "It was enough for me."

"Was it?" Jaime asked, unsmiling.

"No, not really. But this is."

Jaime did smile then, his teeth glinting behind his short beard. He ran his hand and stump over her thighs before nudging them apart, urging her to extend her right leg to the side until he could run his fingers along her inner thigh, seeking the scar tissue.

When he found it, the puckered bit of skin was smaller than he'd thought it would be, paler even than the skin around it, and higher on her leg than he remembered. No wonder she'd been shy about it. He brushed his fingertips over it, memorizing the shape.

He looked at Brienne's face to see her reaction, but her eyes were closed. The way she was breathing told him she wasn't asleep. Jaime bent over and kissed the raised bit of skin that had sealed the wound.

Brienne let out a startled breath: definitely not asleep. Experimentally, he traced his fingers up to the wavy hair between her legs and stroked it softly. She tensed and then relaxed, welcoming his touch. The warm smell of her arousal came to him, and he lowered his mouth to her, pressing his tongue to her nub.

"Jaime," she said, drawing out his name in a low groan. Permission or plea, it mattered not. When they coupled for the second time that night, it was slow and sensual, dance more than battle, making love more than fucking.

It was very late when they finally fell asleep holding each other.

Notes:

Thank you for reading. I treasure your comments, and generally respond to them just after I've posted a new chapter. They keep me motivated; they help me decide when I'm trying to decide "catboxes or a new chapter of Taking the Silver?" Your hits, your kudos, your kind words and encouragement, recommending this fic to others, following me on Twitter, these are all things I can't properly express my gratitude for, but I'll try: Here, have some mashed potatoes and gravy, and don't worry about the calories.

Next chapter: breakfast with Tyrion and beginning dragon training!