The previous night, when he finally fell asleep after returning to his quarters at a very late hour, Jaime's dreams had been plagued with images of Cersei heavily pregnant, but in his wild subconscious, the child was not Rhaegar's, but his own, with the prince none the wiser. Jaime was the youngest member of the Kingsguard and was keeping a clandestine affair with Cersei, but that fact wasn't an obstacle for her to enjoy a parallel sex life with Rhaegar, even though it was Jaime's seed she'd chosen to impregnate her, to his secret thrill and sense of pride and possessiveness. But every time that it was Jaime's turn to keep watch at the royal couple's door, he was forced to witness and hear how Cersei and her husband couldn't get their hands off each other and it triggered a sheer state of torture by jealousy.
And then in the dream Brienne became another member of the Kingsguard and Jaime tried to put an end to his unhealthy and dangerous relationship with his sister because he fell in love with his fellow comrade in arms and he was a one-woman man through and through. Cersei discovered his betrayal and ordered Brienne's arrest under false charges...
Right that moment, Jaime had woken up drenched in sweat and with his heart beating like a rampant horse. The nightmare had been so vivid that he could recall the slightest details.
It had taken him a long time to resume sleep again, and luckily, upon waking up in the morning, earlier than he expected after such a night, he didn't remember having had more dreams.
But there were two things he'd realized after his nightmare. First, he was immensely relieved that he'd detached himself from Cersei. She would always be his sister and she'd been the first woman he'd loved, and he probably would always love her in a secret niche of his heart, but he understood that what they'd had had been toxic and unsustainable.
And second, he'd started to care for Brienne, his wench. Perhaps it was too soon to consider it love, but to him it was undeniable that what he felt went beyond simple friendship. His senses were on constant alert and his heart rate sped up whenever he thought about her, which happened almost the whole time.
He still had no idea about what he'd do after Lord Selwyn's warnings, and the conflict was racking him, keeping him split between the lord's stern attitude and Tyrion's encouraging words. As he got ready to go join anyone who might be at the breakfast table, if there was someone, he came to a conclusion: he wouldn't avoid or discourage Brienne, so he wouldn't give the impression that he wasn't interested in her friendship, but he would let her take the initiative regarding shared activities she might like to propose. That way Selwyn would see that it would be very impolite to reject her after she'd made the effort to engage his guest in some entertainment, and Jaime could only hope that she would take that first step, because if she didn't, then he would have his hands tied and the message would be clear: that she didn't wish to go on exploring what had come up between them.
In short, he felt like a green boy struggling through unfamiliar territory. That must be what many teenagers normally experienced at the stage of their lives in which they became aware of their own sexuality and of the temptations around them, but then, there had been hardly any normalcy in the way Jaime had grown up. For starters, whereas children usually didn't feel sexual impulses so soon or explore sex with another person intentionally, Jaime had begun exploring his sexuality with Cersei much before he had reached a minimally reasonable age for those kinds of activities. Physical intimacy had been present in his everyday life like something natural, almost like breathing or eating, because he and Cersei constantly sought hidden places to touch each other's bodies thoroughly, without restrictions. He'd come to know her body and its changes better than his own. It could be affirmed that they'd lost their virginity very long before they'd been physically capable of performing the whole act of copulation all the way, with him finishing and spilling his seed inside of her womb when they'd barely turned eleven years old, very shortly before her moon blood was about to make its first appearance. She'd bribed a maidservant, swearing her to secrecy under threat, to get her moon tea and Cersei had taken it regularly nonstop for years. However, the contraceptive measure had unfortunately failed sometimes as she'd gotten pregnant accidentally at least twice, at the ages of twelve and fourteen. Those times she'd felt quite sick and had bled more than was normal when she had her periods. Perhaps the effects of the moon tea faded after a long time taking it, or it had been simple bad luck, but in any case, even if that concoction wasn't a totally reliable contraceptive, it was an effective abortifacient. During both times in which she had aborted, Jaime had remained by her bedside day and night until she recovered her full health again. She'd passed her abortions as common ailments and no one of significance, like their father or their uncle Kevan, had suspected the truth. And if the maester (who was a weak and cowardly man) or some of the servants had, they'd kept their mouths conveniently shut.
Cersei had fulfilled all his sexual needs, so he hadn't cared for seeking touch and release with anyone else. She'd adopted roles that a sister never should, Targaryen traditions or not: as his lover and as his obsession, adding to that his deeply buried guilt for those two lost babies conceived in incest who were never meant to exist. But, whatever she'd been to him, friend wasn't included in the lot, and it hurt to acknowledge that sad truth. He would have preferred her genuine friendship and affection above anything else. But Cersei had been incapable of offering him what he craved the most, pure and simple. It was all about her manipulating and controlling him.
All in all, he hadn't had a normal adolescence, and now it was as if he was experiencing belatedly what it should have been if he hadn't spent all his teenager years fucking his own twin sister like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Brienne had already arrived at the main hall when he walked in, and there was no one else in sight yet. He hoped that she hadn't been waiting for long.
The sight of her brightened his mood and all thoughts of Cersei and of his wretched relationship with her flew his mind.
They greeted each other and started to banter teasingly about them forsaking the formal titles when addressing each other privately. Afterwards, when she commented on him probably missing his home, he confessed that Casterly Rock didn't feel like home and that the joruney had come as a means of escaping it. And then Brienne had surprised him with quite a personal question about his quest for a bride around the kingdoms, stammering and blushing, to which he'd answered frankly: that he'd intended the journey especially as a getaway and he wouldn't marry anyone if there wasn't a true interest and genuine feelings in both parties, despite his father's impositions.
Their talk had been interrupted by the arrival of Lord Selwyn and Tyrion, breakfast had been served and Brienne surprised Jaime once again by asking him to train with her, dissipating his doubts about her reciprocal interest in developing what was blossoming between them. His heart jumped in thrill, especially when her father didn't disagree with their plans. His reluctance was obvious, but he wasn't Tywin after all; he looked like he respected his daughter's wishes.
Their teasing exchange went on for some moments, and then Tyrion asked the lord something related to the castle, which kept the man busy until the end of breakfast. In the meanwhile, Jaime stole some quick glances at Brienne, who had a subtle smile on her lips and a lovely pink hue on her cheeks.
Later, at the training yards, they were getting ready for their sparring session. The air was heavy with dampness, as there were some thick clouds blocking the sun intermittently and threatening rain. That unstable weather was more consistent with the usual climate in the Stormlands than the previous day.
The both of them had discarded their capes and had adopted a defensive stance, facing each other in concentration. Jaime was more than willing and ready to put a good fight and try not to give Brienne the satisfaction of defeating him again. After all, he was Jaime Lannister, one of the best swordsmen in the realm (and on his steady way to become the best, if he had any say in it) and he had certain standards and a reputation to maintain.
"Well, wench, I'm sure that the entirety of the Green Fork would fit in that furrow between your brows," he commented in provocation, seeking to irk her.
It seemed to work, as her eyes narrowed and her furrow deepend. "Wench? Now what, do I look like a tavern girl to you?," she replied in annoyance, to his delight. "And don't go that path. I know what you're trying, and it won't work," she warned, tightening her grip on her blunt sword.
"Too late for that, my lady wench. I think my tactic is already working," he disagreed, smirking and swirling his sword as if it wasn't more than a toy.
"Such a fucking conceited man and pain in the ass," she hissed low between gritted teeth, but he heard her nonetheless and laughed as if she wasn't throwing expletives at him.
"Come on, wench. I'll take root here at this rate," he taunted.
But she didn't take the bait, looking stubborn and dead set on doing her best to ignore his jests. "You're patient and watchful, wench. Excellent qualities, I should say. A pity that patience isn't one of my qualities. Or knowing when is the right moment to shut my mouth."
She rolled her eyes. "Don't you say," she replied, unimpressed.
He charged suddenly, but that time she was better prepared for his surprise attack than the day before. She blocked his blow effectively and pushed him back. Her strength almost matched his own and that fact, far from repelling him or making him think how inadequate that feature was in a woman, increased the sense of equality he felt toward her, secretly glad because he didn't need to treat her as if she were made of glass.
That made a badly-timed thought come unbidden into his mind. Maybe that's an inkling of how she might behave in the sack. Oh, I would love her to give me a rough time with those long fingers and that..."
She took advantage of his momentary distraction, dodging his ill-aimed blow and pointing the tip of her sword at his neck. Jaime groaned in resigned embarrassment as a cover, but he found out that losing to her wasn't so humiliating. This wench is proving too distracting. He smiled to himself.
"You don't take this seriously, Lannister. You were distracted," she reproached. "Come on, Ser Jaime. That's the best you can offer?," she threw at him, echoing his own teasing sentence from the day before.
And who's to blame for my distraction? "What's happened to calling me just Jaime?," he deflected.
"And what's happened to calling me jut Brienne? Or perhaps you'd prefer a moniker to match the one you've bestowed on me?," she threatened with an eyebrow raised.
He lifted his arms in surrender. "Fine, fine, Brienne, you're right. I definitely can do a lot better. The sun must have blinded me, reflecting on that absurdly shiny Valyrian hair on your head. It's annoying how distracting it is."
She smirked in return. The use of her given name seemed to have pleased her, he noticed. "Whatever you say, but I still fail to see that almost legendary swordsmanship people sing about the renowned Jaime Lannister." She adopted her defensive position once more with her sapphire eyes sparkling in challenge.
"Well, enough of silly games, my stubborn Brienne." He readied himself for another round, making an effort to remain focused. Gods, it's difficult. I like how she moves.
By the end of that sparring match, he'd won, and he also defeated her three times out of the following four ones.
When their training session finished, her eyes were flashing in reserved admiration and respect.
Definitely sapphire was her color.