The sun was shining on the training yards after a few days of grey skies and rain. The Kingsguard kept their routine no matter the weather, and Brienne insisted on overseeing the trainings daily. She believed she'd caught a mild cold after she'd remained under the persistent rain the day before, but she'd discarded the symptoms stubbornly and now she was shuddering slightly despite the warmer temperature.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Jaime furrowing his brows and shooting glances at her. That distracted him and Pod, his current sparring partner, was taking advantage of his lack of focus.
At least Jaime had granted her her required space and was respecting her wishes to keep her distance from him, though his subtle kind gestures and his blatant concern for her health and condition hadn't escaped her notice, of course. It could only be due to his worry for the baby, but it warmed her heart all the same. For her, it was enough that he already loved the baby, even if he didn't love her. It had to be enough.
And how not, he'd noticed she wasn't at her best, regardless of how much she was trying to hide her discomforts. He knew her physical reactions too well. At the remembrance of how well he knew her physically, she blushed furiously, and she chastised herself for her traitorous flesh which desired him so much still.
No matter how hard she tried to forget the feel of him on her and inside her, her fierce desire for him always came back with a vengeance, leaving her hot and frustrated, seeking release in the solitude of her chambers, refusing to picture his hand giving her pleasure instead of her own, or his cock, or his tongue, his skin against her skin scorching her to her very core.
A bout of dizziness struck her suddenly, and she knew instantly it was something very different from her annoying lust for Jaime.
She didn't feel well, even she had to admit that.
Jaime was by her side in the blink of an eye, beating Pod in his haste to hold her before she reached the ground. "Brienne!," he exclaimed, fear evident in his voice. She heard it as if she was far away, but noticed his concern and alarm all the same.
His arms around her were so comforting, that she yielded to their strength, barely conscious. Then, everything went black around her.
When she came to herself in her bed, something wet and cool was pressed against her forehead. Her sight focused on a very familiar and dear face: Jaime's. He was the one who had put the fresh cloth onto her skin to lower her temperature. "Jaime. I'm... I'm sorry."
His gaze was so soft. "Shh. Don't tire yourself. The maester says you've caught a cold and you need rest. You'll be right as rain in a couple of days and the baby is all right, but you must take more care of yourself."
The green of his eyes was mesmerizing. She frowned. "I've fainted in a courtyard full of people. What must they be thinking of me? I'm the Lady Commander."
"Nonsense. They must be thinking you're human after all," he teased, grinning. "They all adore you, and you know it."
"You brought me here?," she asked. The image of him carrying her all the way to the White Sword Tower made her feel as embarrassed as pleased.
He looked aside and shrugged. "I told you I'm strong enough."
Brienne rolled her eyes and chuckled. That was a recurrent joke between them. "Thank you for your kindness, Jaime. But you shouldn't exert yourself either. It's been hardly a month since you woke up from a serious head injury."
He waved his hand. "It's nothing I can't carry out. I'm quite healed already. And you aren't so heavy, not to me at least. I can lift you easily."
She blushed again, remembering their room in Winterfell, where they'd made love a few times against the wall, with her legs tightly wrapped around his waist and hips and him holding her in place unfalteringly, thrusting into her until they reached their completion and fell down onto the floor, moaning loudly, sweaty, panting wildly and laughing at the absolute mess.
His great strength had thrilled her every time, and she still shivered remembering his lean and muscular body so intimately joined with hers, never failing to provide her with a blinding pleasure.
But again, the remembrance of his cruel rejection at the courtyard, right before leaving her, threw a bucket of cold water onto the warm and sweet memories of the month they'd spent together.
Those memories had been marred irremediably. She couldn't forget the heart-wrenching way in which he'd turned into a stranger to her in a matter of minutes, his unapproachable attitude, his cold determination to push her away.
He'd managed what no one else had ever had: to break her soul in two, to shatter her dreams into a million pieces.
She didn't believe that was something that could be fixed easily. Her certainty that he'd been going back to Cersei, as well as the queen's beautiful and haughty face haunting Brienne every night after Jaime's departure, weren't things that she could discard with the wave of a hand, as if nothing had happened.
He must have noticed her hardened expression and her walls rising up, because suddenly his smile faded along with the sparkle of his eyes. The wet cloth slid from her forehead and she placed it on the nightstand, determined to speak before he had the chance to say something else, probably one of his apologies. She definitely didn't want or need his pity. "I'm grateful for your care and attentions, but I assure you that the baby is fine and I'll also be fine very soon, so you don't have to worry. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to take a nap and there's no need for you to stay. It's not the first cold of my life, I'll survive." He flinched visibly, and her heart ached terribly at the sight of his pained face, but she wouldn't ever give in to his pity. Months ago he'd showed clearly whom his heart belonged to, and it wasn't her. She wouldn't delude herself into believing otherwise. It would only bring more heartbreak.
Honestly, she ignored how much more heartbreak she could take. But it didn't matter anyway. Now she had her baby to look forward to, and he or she would be enough to help her cope with everything else.
"Brienne, I don't worry just for the baby, and you know that. I'll repeat it until you come to finally believe it. I can't bear the thought of something happening to you, to any of you, not only to our baby, don't you understand?," he declared vehemently, with a cracking voice. His desperate eyes almost made her surrender. Almost.
No. He's transferring his feelings from Cersei to me. It's just an illusion he's creating, a coping mechanism. I must be strong for both our sakes. "I know. You're a good man, Jaime, of course you wouldn't wish me harm."
He pursed his lips together in a hard line. "It's much more than that, Brienne. I love you. How can I persuade you that I'm telling the naked truth? You're the love of my life, and Cersei is in the past, buried forever. I've tried to show you all these days, but you don't want to see it or hear about it. Tell me please what can I do to win your trust back, and I swear I'll devote the rest of my days to making every effort to be the man you once trusted with everything you had."
He looked so desperate, so genuine. Her tears were running down her cheeks.
"I wish I knew, Jaime. I'm not sure there's anything that can be done. The only thing I can think about is time. Time is perhaps our only hope. But for now, it's all too raw still. Too painful. You returning to her all the way from Winterfell to King's Landing tortured me for weeks, and it continues to torture me. I'm afraid it won't ever go away, not completely at least. I don't know. I'm very confused for the time being. Please, I need to be alone."
He nodded, defeated. "Very well. I won't impose my presence upon you anymore for today. Forgive me if I'm bothering you. But please, if you feel worse, or if you need anything I can give you, please let me know."
She nodded in acquiescence. "All right. I will, I promise. I'm so sorry, Jaime, I hate seeing you suffer."
He smiled without humor, in self-deprecation. "It's nothing I haven't brought upon myself, nothing I don't deserve. Remember, I'll be there if you need me. Always." And after those passionate words, he turned around and left the chamber, giving her a last wistful and, it seemed, longing look.
Perhaps he really loved her and her stubbornness and self-issues were getting the better of her.
She drifted off out of sheer exhaustion, comforted by a last fleeting and thrilling thought that maybe, just maybe, there was still hope for the both of them.
Yes, perhaps time would tell.
