Chapter Text
Brienne POV
Brienne woke up to the rhythmic sounds of the window shutters rattling against the morning wind. The cold air pushing into the room was a fresh reminder that beating the Night King had not stopped the impending change of the season. The smell of winter brought other things to mind too, sensory pleasures; Jaime taking her in his arms and kissing her; Jaime burying his face in her chest and then his body into hers. Cruel, cruel dreams, she thought. Why do you torment me? She was ready to brush it all off as a maid’s wishful dream. A nighttime reverie influenced perhaps by the proximity of the weirwood tree in the yard below.
And yet, the warm body pressed against her chest told her this was no fantasy. He was still there, flesh and blood, one arm draped over her middle, the other tucked under his side in a restful sleeping position.
“Jaime,” she whispered at his sleepy head nestled against her shoulder. You’re here, she wanted to add.
She liked this, the weight of his arm on her body, his breath rippling softly against her naked skin. So that’s what it was like to wake up in bed next to a man; one could get used to the feeling, she thought.
It took Brienne another two attempts. She didn’t quite have the heart to wake him. Eventually Jaime’s eyelids began to flutter, and a pair of green eyes stared up at her.
“It is past sunrise,” she said. The words came out more matter of fact than she intended.
“Say it again, please.”
“The sun’s out,” she repeated.
“Not that part.”
She raised her eyebrows and searched his face.
“My name, say it again.”
“Jaime,” she said barely above a whisper.
He smiled at the sound of it, and as she responded in kind, she felt herself being pulled down into a kiss. She met him eagerly, their first embrace from last night by the fireplace rushing back to her, awakening a muscle memory she didn’t know she had. Her boldness came as a surprise. She’d always been a shy girl, and years of being scorned for her physical appearance hadn’t done much to alleviate the insecurities around her womanhood. In this instant however, there was nothing shy or slow about her. With every kiss Brienne became more famished. She could tell Jaime was trying to slow down the pace, to take only her lower lip in his mouth, to steal brief kisses, and nuzzle at her neck. But the morning light was casting longer shadows with each breath she took, and Brienne knew there was no time. If she wanted him again, they’d have to be quick.
“It is past sunrise,” she breathed out, more insistent.
“You keep saying that,” he said, “Like it matters.” He shoved the furs to the side, exposing their upper bodies to the cold morning air.
A shiver traveled across Brienne’s shoulders and she whimpered at the sensation of her nipples hardening so quickly. His fingers traced the faded scar on her left collarbone, the proof of their fight in the bear pit now almost unnoticeable. As if he were roping her in, she bent down, folding to his touch. Soon her hands were on his chest and her mouth back on his. Jaime opened to meet her and she accepted the invitation; wet, warm, and full of life. Can this be me? A woman who knows how to please and who yearns for more at the day’s first light? Brienne broke away.
“They’ll be expecting us at the morning meal,” she protested.
Jaime propped himself up on his good elbow and looked at her, eyes wide and pleading. “We fought the dead and lived. I doubt any soul would begrudge us the chance to act on that good fortune.”
He kept her gaze, then insisted, “There’s time.”
“No.”
Without breaking eye contact she pushed him back down against the mattress. Even if he’d tried, he couldn’t have matched the force of her movement. One leg on each side of him, she leaned forward and sat down against his hard cock. Now it was his turn to be impatient, to twitch and thrust, and look her up and down as if she were all he’s ever craved.
“You’re a strong woman,” he said. And when Brienne looked at his eyes, dark and full of warmth, she knew it wasn’t mockery, he was in awe. She felt a rush of tenderness at the wonder her size had just evoked in Jaime. She wasn’t a big lumbering beast, she was the warrior queen Nymeria, and he was her conquest.
“There’s a day’s worth of work waiting, and another war to be fought,” she said.
She raised herself slightly and used the tip of his cock to spread her moisture. Underneath her, Jaime was writhing like a trapped animal.
“I don’t think I’m in a state to refuse you, my lady.”
Steading herself with one arm while using the other for guidance, she lowered herself onto him slowly until he disappeared inside of her. The thrusting motions of her hips were timid at first. I can do this, she thought and focused on the feeling of fullness that stretched her from within. Gradually, one moan at a time, she picked up the pace. He was more experienced than her and could have taken the lead, but he let her have this round. He’s giving himself to me , she realized . Jaime’s head was turned slightly downward, a tight-lipped smile on his face, as if to say, “Go ahead, ravish me.”
Seated firmly in the saddle of his groin she rode them into a rocking flow of want. Faster and faster, she rubbed down against him in response to the building pressure in her loins. The sudden tightening of her body left her stunned, and Jaime had to wrap his arm around her waist and thrust from below to find his release.
After he let go, she stayed atop him; watched their chests rise and fall till her breathing evened out. They hadn’t exchanged any words when they finished last night. Jaime had motioned towards the bed, and they’d promptly climbed under the furs and fallen asleep.
As she sat there straddling him, it dawned on her she should say something, but all that escaped her lips was a barely audible “Hi.” She admonished herself for not being more articulate. Septa Roelle had always liked to remind her she was a slow child, now was not the time to prove her right. Think, Brienne, think.
“Looks like the ramparts have fallen,” Jaime said.
He gently brushed his thumb over the protruding edge of her right hip bone. On his face was that self-satisfying expression she once thought was the most arrogant face in all of Westeros. She had since grown to appreciate it as something else entirely. There was smugness in that expression, yes, but that smirk was also a defense mechanism, Brienne knew. A weapon of charm Jaime deployed when he felt most vulnerable.
And Jaime was right, the ramparts had fallen. She was exposed, and so was he.
Naked and consumed, Jaime still very much tucked inside her wetness, the reality of the barrier they’d crossed last night sank in. They had shared a bed as lovers when their union hadn’t been sanctioned by law or the Seven. It felt right and it felt wrong.
“We have to head down to the great hall. You should go first.” She looked over to where his clothes were sprawled over the floor. ”Best to arrive separately. So as to not raise any suspicions.”
“Are you throwing me out of your bed?”
“No. But the sun’s up, and it would not be prudent to stay.” She moved off him and reached for the towel and wash basin on the nightstand.
“Or I could go first, if you prefer.” she said. This is new to me, but I’m not Cersei. I am not ashamed of you.
In a vain attempt at modesty, she kept her back to him while she brought the washcloth to her face and then her lower body to clean away the stickiness between her legs.
She felt the bed shift as Jaime got up to get dressed. Brienne had not meant for her words to come across so forbidding. He’d been thrown out of Cersei’s bedroom all his life, there was no need to repeat the experience. She liked to think she was being honorable in her practical approach to the situation, but the emotional pull of their circumstances was starting to take its toll and Brienne no longer knew which voice to heed. My heart or my head?
Outside, the wind had picked up again, and the shutters were rattling once more. A drift of air slipped through broken louvers and landed coldly against her chest. At the sound of boots thudding against the wooden floor, Brienne turned her head. Jaime was standing in front of her, fully clothed.
“I’ll see myself out then.”
“Wait.” She grabbed the robe from the chair and threw it over her shoulders. He was already at the door when she reached him.
“Save me a seat at the table. Will you?”
Jaime nodded. It was a slow dip of the chin, the kind that signaled defeat more than agreement. Brienne placed her hand on his right arm, a light touch meant to buy time until she could will more words from her lips. But before she could say goodbye, he had turned away and walked out the door.