The fragrant smells of moon tea and lavender steam woke Brienne. She'd slept through the servants bringing in the bath water, and Jaime was reclining beside her on top of the covers, wearing a pair of loosely tied breeches and a smile. Waking up next to Jaime had been part of her life for a long time now. Whether he was still sleeping so she could steal a few rare moments reveling in the warm, sleepy smell of him or awake and watching her, his presence always made her feel at least something was right in the world.
Reaching up to run her fingers along his jaw, she smiled when he ducked his head to rub his cheek in her palm before leaning in to kiss her. How many almost-kisses had there been before this, Brienne wondered, when one or the other drowsily stopped just short of that sweet press of lips, nearly forgetting a kiss was a morning greeting reserved for lovers? How many times, unable to seal the wish to sleep well, had they lain awake, yearning for what could not be? They'd been working up to this for so long; a cuddle, a look, the unacknowledged brush of lips against nape or shoulder. It was no wonder they'd easily fallen into this intimacy, though it was still thrillingly new.
Jamie leaned back, still smiling, "I'm glad you were able to sleep through the noise the servants made, Wench. You must have needed the rest."
"I did, though I'd have though you would as well."
"Tyrion sent a message earlier, else I'd still be snoring beside you."
Brienne groaned; she'd forgotten they were meeting Tyrion in the dining hall.
"We have time for a bath before though, since you had one prepared?"
"Maybe not as leisurely as we'd like, but yes. I must smell like a stoat after sparring yesterday. I'm surprised you could bear to have me in your bed."
"Mm, you might smell a bit more like a rutting stoat this time," Brienne said, wrinkling her nose, "but then, so do I. A fine pair of stinky stoats."
"I think 'rutting lions' would be more appropriate. We can make it our house sigil when we marry; the Rutting Lions Rampant" He leaned in to kiss her again, twitching away the covers and moving on top of her, "I must say, I do like the stink of lion about you, my lady."
Brienne wrapped her legs around his hips, the fabric of his breeches rough between her thighs, "I rather doubt anyone else will be enamored of it, should we run out of time to bathe."
"A shame…" Jaime said vaguely, trailing kisses along her chest, stomach and legs as he backed away from her down the mattress. By the time he reached her foot he was off the end of the bed and standing on the floor. Wrapping his fingers around her ankle he tugged, walking backwards until Brienne had to stand too or fall on her bottom.
He released her foot and she pushed him away and headed for the privy, shaking her head at him. When she came out Jaime was already in the copper tub, his wet hair spread over the cresting wave of the backrest. Would seeing him thus, in water and steam, always bring Harrenhal to mind? As then, the sight of him stirred her, though it was more than simple lust she was feeling.
Jaime cracked open an eye, "Brienne? You are coming in, aren't you? I put your moon tea here on the table."
Brienne nodded and got in the tub with him, the water rising to their shoulders. She sighed and picked up her mug of tea, leaning back and cupping it in her hands, "Thank you, Jaime. We really shouldn't get used to this. It'll be a rude shock to sleep outdoors and be filthy all the time again." She drained her tea and set down her cup to pick up a ball of soap, "Would you like me to wash your back?"
Jaime answered by turning around to face away from her, settling between her long legs. Working up a good lather in her hands before covering his back in suds, Brienne kneaded his muscles, digging her thumbs in and massaging as he groaned in appreciation. She caressed her fingers over his strong biceps and down his solid forearms, threading her soapy fingers through his on the one side, swirling them over his stump on the other.
She put her arms beneath his, soaping his chest and belly while she closed her eyes and leaned her head against his wet back, savoring the sturdy feel of him as she explored. She soaped his armpits and cupped water to sluice the soap off before continuing down to his thighs, washing them under the water. She ran her hands back from Jaime's knees and along the insides of his thighs, mapping scars and muscle with her sensitive fingertips. At the juncture of his legs she stroked his balls with soapy hands, enjoying the low sounds of pleasure vibrating from his back beneath her cheek.
Brienne reached for the soap again, coating her hands well before dipping them under the water to make the length of Jaime's cock slick, and then tracing the veins and ridges, smoothing her fingers up and down his hard shaft slowly.
Jaime put his hand on her wrist to still her motion, "I think we'd better get you washed up now, Wench."
Brienne couldn't keep the hurt from her voice, "Was I doing it wrong?"
"No; that's the problem. You're about to defeat the purpose of our being in here."
"Oh," Brienne said, feeling foolish, "I hadn't considered that. How about I just wash your hair now."
Jaime kept his eyes closed, grimacing, while she scooped water over his head and then scrubbed the previous day's grime and sweat from his hair and beard. He slid down to rinse, his hair streaming out into the water and tickling Brienne's belly and thighs.
"I think that's as clean as you're going to get," Brienne told him, charmed by the grin he gave her through his dripping hair when he sat up and turned to face her.
Jaime picked the soap up from its dish and held it out to Brienne. She took it, rolling it between her palms. She was about to spread suds on herself when Jaime held out his hand, looking at her sternly. She held out her hands and he took the lather and spread it evenly over her chest and arms.
Hooking his right arm over her knee, he used his left hand to caress her all over, leaving no skin untouched. Brienne was surprised at the lump forming in her throat at his tender exploration. He wasn't trying to arouse her; he was simply washing her, becoming more familiar with her body.
Brienne had little memory of being lovingly touched before she knew Jaime. During their time as captives, when both had suffered beatings from the Bloody Mummers, the sympathetic weight of his remaining hand on hers had been an unexpected comfort. She had few memories of being touched in simple kindness since her mother's death. Growing up tall and awkward under the care of a disapproving septa, she'd become a woman convinced she wasn't made for the affection of human touch.
Instead, she'd satisfied her need for connection with the animals she surrounded herself with. Cats, dogs, horses, none could resist her soft words and loving hands, nor could any other animal she encountered on her island home. All of her need for touch poured into them.
When she'd been expected to care for Jaime after his maiming, her touch seemed to soothe him during his illness and despair. Tending and touching him had been necessary and natural, just as caring for a sick animal would have been.
Yet when she'd held and helped him after his confession in the baths of Harrenhal, he'd become so much more to her than a wounded beast. Washing and helping him dress with more affection that any nursemaid had ever shown her had awoken something in her. It made her want something she never expected to have.
Much later, traveling together after the Quiet Isle, Jaime had unsettled her deeply. Not just his careful tending of her wound, but from the first time he'd held her to him in sleep, her world had changed. As she watched him now, his gaze following the path of his hand across her skin, the realization of his love was overwhelming.
Feeling the catch in her breath through his fingers, Jaime looked up at her quickly. Her small smile must have been at odds with the sheen of her unshed tears, but he only gave her a questioning look.
"I…I was only thinking about how much love you." She shrugged, "all of this, us, it's…."
"Are you happy?" he asked, his face serious.
Happy? Finally admitting to their feelings, the betrothal, making love; her most secret dreams coming true. Had she given herself a chance to just be happy about it?
"Yes, Jaime, I am."
"Good. Now make me happy and get your hair wet for me. I can't do it with only one hand."
The ordinariness of his tone reassured her; the newness of their intimacy didn't change who they were, not did it weaken the connection they'd shared for so long.
Her heart was light as she slid down in the tub and immersed her long hair in the cooling water. It took three hands to wash her hair, but soon they were done and out of the tub, wrapping each other in soft, dry towels.
Dragon training would begin in earnest today. Brienne chose her clothing with care, deciding on a pair of leather breeches that years of wear had shaped to fit perfectly. Brienne pulled the close-fitting leather up and tied the laces while Jaime sat on the bed idly watching her.
"Why aren't you getting dressed?" she said, retrieving a short tunic from the chest. She turned to look at Jaime, who gave her an insolent smile but said nothing. She pulled the tunic over her head and tugged it down over her hips. Snug and broken in like the leggings, it provided just enough give for her to maneuver easily. She wore this combination often, but always underneath a gambeson for fighting.
The scales on Viserion's face were soft-edged, but those on his body might be rough or barbed like a lizard's. Until she knew for sure, these leathers would let Brienne to get close to him in his pen without risk of snagging or tearing.
Picking up the long red belt she kept her dagger on, she secured it around her waist and looped it to the left side.
"Is that all you're wearing?" Jaime asked.
Brienne looked at him from the corner of her eye, wondering at his tone. He was sitting naked on the edge of the bed, the towel across his lap.
"Is that all you're wearing?" she retorted, turning to him. She picked up a brush and began working through the damp tangles of her hair.
"No. I'll get dressed soon," he said, "I've just never seen you wear that tunic and breeches without putting something over them. They're rather revealing, don't you think?"
Brienne looked in the mirror, seeing nothing amiss with her clothes. The neckline of her tunic was a modest V; the leather was an unassuming nut-brown color. Daenerys and her Dothraki cohorts often wore much less.
Jaime stood up, letting the towel slide from his lap, and walked to stand just behind her. Meeting her eyes in the mirror he ran his hand along her hip, "This shows rather a lot of your shape."
Brienne's face heated, "I'm sure the dragon won't mind how I look, Jaime. Are you embarrassed to be seen with me, now that people know we're together?"
"Embarrassed? Why…oh. Brienne, look at me. Do you think I dislike what you're wearing?" She looked at his face in the mirror; his mocking smile giving her no answers, "Look down, sweetling."
"Oh. I still don't think…"
Jaime raised his hand to cup her breast, drawing her attention to it in the mirror; the soft leather clung to her nipples. He swept his thumb over one and it became noticeably harder, "All I've ever been able to think about when you wear these is fucking you. Your legs, your arse, your tits, everything that's driven me mad for so long, right here in plain view, nothing hidden. I don't want other men looking at you the way I do. I'm a possessive lout, all right?"
Torn between being indignant and flattered, Brienne turned to face him, "If you have a say in how I dress, am I allowed to say when you're too enticing to be seen by others? I've endured women and men throwing themselves at you for years, Jaime. Now that you're mine shall I tell you that your smile makes me weak with want? Just watching you walk is enough to befuddle me. Can I ask you not to smile at anyone else, or to find a way to move without the swagger?"
"Really? That's how you felt?"
"Is that all you heard? How handsome you are?"
"Sorry. Am I being unreasonable?"
"You've managed to make me self-conscious, so I'll put on a jerkin until we get to the dragon pit. Not for your sake, though."
"No. I'm sorry. Wear what you like. Just don't be surprised if I keep you closer than usual."
"Get some clothes on. If you think me being fully dressed will make men lose control, just imagine if you went out with your naked cock looking like that. I know at least a couple of men who would bruise their knees dropping down in front of you."
"Seven hells, Brienne!" Jaime laughed, "I'll get dressed, if only to stop you from talking like that."
"So the only one you want dropping to their knees in front of you is me?"
"Stop."
"Not me, either?"
"Brienne…"
"Yes, Jaime?"
Jaime sighed and began looking for something to wear, "You're a rotten wench. For some reason I love you anyway."
Unable to hide her pleased smile, Brienne pulled on her boots and secured her sword belt around her hips. Not for a moment did she imagine other men looking upon her with the sort of desire Jaime implied, but she was glad to know he felt that way himself.
Jaime dressed quickly and soon they were on their way to the dining hall, leaving the Holdfast and crossing the bridge against a fierce wind that coated the faces of the spiked heads and made them wobble obscenely.
"Lovely day for dragon training," Jaime remarked as they hurried down the steps, pulling their hoods close to keep the snow from their still-damp hair.
"Maybe the pit will offer some protection from the storm,"
"At least we can warm up in the house if we need to."
"Are you getting too spoilt for the harshness of winter, Jaime? Will I need to coddle you as well as Sean and Fluffy when we go back?"
"The horses have more sense than we do, I think."
"Gods, you don't think the dragons are craven about snow and ice? Have they flown since winter came?"
"Hit would be ironic if they refused to fly because it's too cold."
They entered the larger hall and then the dining hall. It was crowded with people avoiding the storm. They saw Tyrion several tables away from the queen's. He'd saved them places on the bench opposite him and they pushed their way through the crowd.
Tyrion looked up blearily. When he saw Brienne he smiled at her, but it looked wrong. Was he leering?
"Shit," Jaime muttered under his breath.
Tyrion's gaze traveled over her, lingering on her legs for much too long. Brienne looked around cautiously and saw she'd drawn the attention of several other men in the hall as well. She drew her cloak closed, feeling as though lice were crawling over her skin.
She turned her head to look at Jaime, expecting him to look smug, but his jaw was angrily clenched and his eyes narrow.
"I'm sorry, Brienne. Try not to let it bother you; I'm bothered enough for us both." He held her hand tighter.
When they'd got to the table Tyrion was still staring at Brienne and she saw the skin around his eyes was flushed from drink or emotion.
"Future good sister," he greeted her, "You're quite a lovely sight this morning. Brother, I must congratulate you; her legs are even finer than I imagined. Why I could climb -"
"Tyrion," Jaime growled, "I'll not put up with unchivalrous talk from you about my lady."
"Calm down, Jaime, it was a compliment. Lady Brienne isn't insulted. Right, sweetling?"
Brienne looked at Jaime for guidance: should I kill him now?
"You know better than this, Tyrion," Jaime said, swinging a let over the bench to sit, "You asked us here to talk to us about the dragons. So talk."
"Dragons. The fucking dragons." Tyrion drawled, draining his goblet, "Do dragon's fuck? They must. I'd like to see that; probably make even me feel inadequate. Brie, did Jaime ever mention my large-"
"Tyrion. What did the Queen say about the dragons?"
"The Queen. Dany. She knows about my…oops," Tyrion made a sound that Brienne belatedly realized was a giggle. "The queen says do whatever you need to train Viserion. She wants you to write her a report every day. You can send someone with it, one of the Dothrakis probably. You're planning on staying in the house there? I should warn you: she might check up on you, unannounced. Always lock the door to the bedroom when you fuck. Her time with the Dothraki has left her with strange ideas about what's private and what isn't."
Tyrion glared at them for a moment and then let his head drop to the table with a thunk, followed by a muffled ouch. Jaime reached out and grabbed a handful of his hair, lifting his head slightly.
"What's wrong with you, Tyrion? I haven't seen you like this since your trial."
"Tysha," Tyrion mumbled and batted Jaime's hand away from his hair.
"Tysha?"
"Did I fucking stutter, Jaime? Tyshhhha."
"No; you slurred. What about Tysha?"
Brienne looked between the two brothers, confused. The name was familiar.
"You recall our dear father said she went 'wherever whores go?'"
Oh. That Tysha.
"Yes?" Jaime said, wariness in his voice. Brienne recalled Jaime telling her about his brother's wife and the lies he'd once told Tyrion. Not for the first time she hoped Tywin was burning in one of the seven hells for all the harms he'd done his children.
"I got a letter. Apparently she didn't go far."
"A letter about Tysha? From someone selling information?"
"No, a letter from Tysha."
"Can you be sure it's from her? Was it a demand for money? Anyone who knows how high up you are now -"
"Don't. The letter contained personal information; things only Tysha would know. She wants to see me, Jaime." Tears overflowed Tyrion's eyes, misery and shame and terrible hope.
"Where is she?"
"Living in a small village near Sarsfield."
"That close to Casterly Rock? Has she been there all this time?"
"I don't know, Jaime. There wasn't much in the letter. She just wants to see me."
"Will you go?"
Tyrion looked at him as though he'd sprouted a second hand, "What do you think? Of course I'll go. I don't know what I'll find when I get there. Will she hate me, brother?"
"Probably."
"How could she not?" Tyrion sighed.
"I'm sorry," Jaime said, "When will you go?"
"Today. Daenerys is sending half a dozen men to ride with me. She's been very…understanding."
"Of course. Why wouldn't she be? Does she know about your first wife?"
"She knows I was married before Sansa. I think she assumed my first wife was dead. Hell, Jaime, I thought she was dead, after all this time."
"I should go with you, for my part in what happened," Jaime said, "but you know I can't; I need to stay here with Brienne while she works with Viserion."
"You should go," Brienne said, "Tyrion needs you, and I can start working with the dragon on my own. Lavakhat and Hemikh will be there with me."
Jaime turned to her angrily, "I don't want you working with the beast as it is, Brienne. Do you think I'd let you do it without me there to keep you safe?"
"Let me? Since when can I not take care of myself? If you're that unhappy about me training Viserion maybe it would be better if you went with Tyrion. You can't protect me from everything, Jaime."
He glared at her, "Is that what you want, Wench? You want me to go away so you can risk yourself without me hindering you?"
"I'm not 'risking' myself. I'll be careful. What can you do to protect me from a dragon that I can't do myself?"
"You'll 'be careful,'" Jaime scoffed, "What if it decides to attack you? White Walkers are nothing to sharp teeth and claws and fire, Brienne! That creature could kill you before you had a half a chance to defend yourself."
"That's true, but it also means you couldn't defend me in time, either."
"Fuck. You just want me to go with Tyrion, then? Sounds like you don't need me at all."
"Stop fighting, you too!" Tyrion huffed, "You're both being ridiculous. Jaime, I don't want you to come with me. Lady Brienne, give my poor, vain, smitten brother a chance to protect you if he can. Besides, the queen now says that Jaime has to help you with training the dragons."
"Dragon. One dragon," Jaime said.
"I believe your requests included Rhaegar, if possible. Her words, I believe, were 'this will keep the Kingslayer out of trouble and the Lady Brienne safe,'"
"Kingslayer," Brienne scowled, "When is she going to stop -"
"If anyone has a right to call him 'Kingslayer' it would be the daughter of the king he slew," Tyrion pointed out.
"See? Even the queen thinks I should be watching out for you."
"And what does she mean, keep me safe? Does no one believe I'm competent to do this on my own?"
"Speaking of the queen, or should I say 'queens,' your little tiff has drawn their attention," Tyrion said
"Their attention?" Jaime said, turning on the bench.
"Don't look now," Tyrion warned, "Queens, as in our sweet sister Cersei has been beside Dany all morning, and even Rufus looks concerned."
Brienne tried to look without being obvious. Cersei was indeed leaning close to the queen, whispering and looking in their direction. Maybe it was her imagination, but Rufus the dragon skull looked more nauseated than usual. Did dragons ever throw up scale-balls?
"Lady Brienne! Ser Jaime!" Jenna's cheerful voice startled her and she turned back to see the servant bearing plates of food for them.
"I ordered for you," Tyrion said, moving aside his empty wine goblet.
"No dragon talons today, I'm afraid," Jenna said, placing a platter with eggs, bacon and boiled potatoes in front of Brienne, "seems several people were taken ill after eating 'em yesterday. They're busy scraping the remains off the dragon-egg grill. I hear they'll be doing something with chicken feet next, which I do believe look more like talons than those itty bitty fishes, curled up or not." She set plates in front of Tyrion and Jaime.
"Thank you, Jenna," Tyrion said, managing a smile for her, "any new gossip from the kitchens this morning?"
"Well, it seems everyone wants to know why the new queen is dining with the old one, what with her being considered low-born and all now. Everyone knows the two ladies aren't fond of each other."
"Any guesses?"
"One serving girl says she heard them talking about babies. You don't suppose Queen Daenerys is with child, do you? What a scandal that would be, with her unwed and all! I've hear whispers she's got a lover. Me, I'd be right surprised myself if there were only one lover, bless her. In her prime and ruler of seven kingdoms, she can certainly do as she likes. You're close to her, Lord Tyrion, what do you think?"
"I've no idea," Tyrion said, stuffing a thick piece of bacon in his mouth.
"Well, it'd certainly liven things up around here if she's with child! Just imagine the men coming from near and far trying to give her babe their name before it's born."
"Yes, just imagine," Tyrion said drily.
"Oh, it's all so exciting, what with the two of you betrothed and…oh dear, did I just give it away? Your brother does know doesn't he, Ser Jaime?"
"I know," Tyrion said, "How came you to know?"
"She overheard us yesterday," Brienne said.
"But she's not going to tell anyone else, right, my lady?" Jaime said, giving her a winning smile.
Well, that should ensure her silence, "Of course she won't. We entrusted her with our secret." Brienne said, wishing all she had to do to earn everyone's cooperation was to flash a few teeth and dimples.
"Oh my, yes, Lady Brienne! Mum's the word! Besides, if there's a royal baby on the way, if you'll pardon my saying, your wedding plans'll be small tubers in comparison."
"Thank the gods for that," Jaime muttered.
"I'll keep listening for more information then, shall I, Lord Tyrion?"
"Yes, Jenna. Thank you."
After she'd left, they ate in silence, Brienne mulling over the sting of Jaime's possessiveness and lack of faith. Being treated like a woman not competent to choose her own clothes, much less train a dragon without supervision, was a disturbing. Not since their earliest acquaintance had Jaime doubted her abilities.
She looked at Jaime from the corner of her eye; he was just finishing up his food, scowling at the last bits of egg like they'd personally affronted him. Would marrying him mean he'd believe he was in charge of her? Would he end up treating her like she was somehow his property?
Brienne glanced at Tyrion to see what his mood was. He'd finished his food and was tipping his empty wine goblet between his stubby fingers, looking like he'd forgotten she and Jaime were there.
"Tyrion, did you manage to find any good information in the dungeons on how Visenya and rode her dragon?"
Tyrion looked up at her, then set his goblet down and pushed it away.
"Only a couple of fanciful paintings and tapestries have been found. I don't think any of the artists had ever seen a dragon in flight. The dragons looked wrong, and the riders seemed to be hanging on by force of will. From what Dany told me it isn't that easy. You know she's never tried riding again; I think it scared her half to death when Drogon took off with her."
"But they did use saddles in battle, didn't they?"
"I believe they did. I hear there's an ancient one somewhere down in the catacombs. I have some people looking for it. If I were you, I'd start designing a new one rather than waiting. If we find an old one there's no telling if it'll be useful even as an example."
"I'm surprised anything like that would have survived at all. I'll want to see it, if it's found. Do you know if the dragons have flown since the snows came?"
"I don't think they have," Tyrion said, "or if they did, it wasn't far. How soon do you think until you take Viserion up?"
Jaime looked over sharply, suddenly more interested in their conversation than in sulking.
"I won't know until I see how long it takes him to trust me. Certainly not before I figure out some kind of saddle and possibly a bridle. Maybe a sennight, if things go very well."
"A sennight?" Jaime said, "Surely not that soon…"
Brienne and Tyrion both gave him a quelling look and he subsided, though Brienne could tell she'd not heard his final word on it.
"How long will you be gone, Tyrion?" Brienne asked.
"I hardly know," Tyrion said with a longing look at his empty goblet, "I'll try to send a raven when I know. I'd like to be there when you fly Viserion."
"Am I expected to inform the queen before my first flight?"
"I think she'd like to be there, too."
"Officially?"
"Officially, she hasn't said."
"All right," Brienne said, "I think it's time I got started. Good luck with Tysha, Tyrion."
She stood and so did the men.
"Good luck, Brienne. If Viserion has any sense at all he'll do anything you ask while you're wearing those breeches."
Brienne laughed, accepting the jest
"And so should Jaime." He added, a smile touching his eyes, "And now I must make my farewells to the queen and go face my past. Please the gods, I know not what I'm about to face."
Jaime walked around the table and squatted to hug his brother, "Be well. Send a raven if you need us. The dragon can always wait."
Brienne nodded in agreement. Jaime held out his hand for hers, and with a final look at the queen and Cersei, she took it. Jaime used his grip to pull her close enough to get his right arm around her waist and kiss her. Resistant at first, Brienne was soon drawn in by his passion and moved into his arms, their fight nearly forgotten.
A burst of applause a few tables away startled her, and she jumped back. Jaime gave the young men at the table a cutting smile and pulled her back to his side. Brienne glanced back at the queen's table and saw Daenerys whispering to Cersei, a knowing smile on her lips.
"Why did you do that?" She asked Jaime as they walked the length of the hall.
"Kiss you?"
"Yes."
"I wanted to. Don't tell me I'm not allowed to do that, either."
"I'm not well pleased with you right now, Jaime."
"Because I want to protect you?"
"Because you don't understand that I can protect myself."
"I know you can protect yourself from most things, Brienne. For a long time now we've protected each other. It's kept us both alive, but you've never done this before, we've never done this…" he said, pulling open the door into the yard.
The wind roared around them, kicking up so much snow they could barely see the stables. They pulled their cloaks close and trudged through the yard. Brienne had to pull hard to open the stable door, a violent gust nearly ripping it from her hands.
Inside, the sound of the storm was muffled and the light cast by the oil lamps was oddly cheerless. Even the chickens seemed subdued as they scratched and plocked and exclaimed with each new gust that shook the building. Jaime motioned to a couple of grooms idly playing dice together, and they got up guiltily to fetch Sean and Fluffy's saddles and carry them back to their stalls. The stable dogs, unwilling to be left alone, skulked along behind them.
Every horse they passed seemed uneasy, with several pacing in their stalls, stamping their feet and muttering among themselves with soft hur hur hurs.
Brienne hurried to Sean. He was surprisingly calm, as was Ser Fluffy. She turned to Jaime, eyes wide, "Why aren't they bothered by whatever it is too?"
"It must be something they're used to," he said, his voice tight, "something the other horses have never sensed before."
"Something from the North."
Jaime nodded, "There must be some evil on the wind. Something to do with the Others."
"Do you think they're closer? Making their way further south?"
"I hope not; that could mean our troops are failing. The Walker's power could be getting stronger, spreading their influence over a wider area."
"We'd better send a message to the Queen then, telling her that any dead in the city or keep are to be burned immediately from now on. Just in case."
NOTES:
Thank you all for sticking with this story during the long delay. Some difficult real life stuff got in the way of updating regularly. Hopefully the story will be back on schedule now.
