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Jaime had to roll his eyes; he knew she was being stubborn, but this was getting ridiculous, even for her.
"My lady."
Still, Brienne did not respond. She had been hunched over in the same position for more than an hour with her back turned away from him. Her shoulders, wide and brawny, sloped up and down with each pass of the wooden spindle, dragging it over a deep groove carved into the fire board placed in front of her bent knees. A smooth track had formed into the board, however, there was still no hope of a fire; trying as hard as she had, there was still no smoke, no ember; nothing.
"Brienne."
Jaime's voice remained light and even; a bemused laugh would have lingered in his teasing voice, had it not been so bloody cold. They were fortunate enough to find shelter for the night; the charred and dilapidated barn they found had nearly been obscured by thick drifts of crystalline snow. Once they had surveyed what remained of the barn they were relieved to see that not only was it abandoned, it had also held a cozy root cellar buried deep within the foundation as well.
With only an hour left of daylight remaining, Brienne quietly cleared a space on the cellar floor from dusty, fire scorched boards and frost covered bricks. Jaime started to make a place for them to rest their heads for the night; Brienne struggled without any complaints as she hopefully tried to start a fire with icy numb fingers and exhausted limbs.
With their meager supplies settled and a wide area cleared for their beds, Jaime leaned his tired back against the frigid cellar wall, silently cursing his single hand as he watched his friend struggle to make a fire all on her own.
With a long stick that had been whittled down to a dull point, Brienne threw her entire weight and strength into her arms and shoulders as she stroked the pointed spindle back and forth, desperately hoping the friction would create enough heat to build a smoking ember.
"Brienne?"
Brienne could hear him, but she chose not to respond. She was still...annoyed by Jaime for losing their flint block yesterday.
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Their fire source had been lost, thankfully, after they had built a campfire for that night; it wasn't until a few hours later, just as they were about to turn in for bed, that they both realize that it had gone missing.
By the light of the dying fire the two scrambled together on their hands and knees, searching desperately for a thin block of flint that was lost somewhere within the shadows of the snowy dirt floor. So enthralled they were by their desperate and panicked search the two had managed to knock their heads together as they combed over prickly twigs and rotted leaves.
Between the darkness that surrounded them, the deep snows beneath them and for all of the dead leaves and twigs that littered the camp site, both silently knew their search was entirely in vain. After an exhaustive sweep the two slowly conceded to the fact that it was useless to keep looking; the flint was irrevocably lost. They would sooner find the Stark girls before either one would even see that scrap of stone again.
Absorbing their defeat with a grim silence, Brienne pulled up her blankets high over her head after she heard Jaime chuckle slightly to himself; he was trying to make light of a dire situation. "Well my lady, if all else fails...we can always wind up in bed together."
With a slow drag of humiliation burning over her face, Brienne knew that he was right. By her estimation, the nearest place where a new block of flint could be purchased was a two day hike from where they had camped. If she was not capable of making a fire with some other means the next night, they would very likely end up having to sleeping together just to avoid freezing to death.
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As he felt the chill of the root cellar seep through his thick, winter clothes, Jaime watched Brienne with a bittersweet smile as she patiently labored over her sad attempt to make a fire.
In spite of the frozen wasteland they were left to wander in, in spite of their dwindling food supplies and Jaime's single, near useless hand, he still managed to find some scrap of cheer to cling to. The way he saw it, they could always scavenge for warmer clothing from the dead later on; food could always be purchased or traded, if not stolen—they could even go a few days without food, if need be. But to Jaime, the one thing that was more precious to him, more precious than food, shelter or even a second hand, was having the one thing that could never be replaced: having his friend—his stupid, brave, stubborn wench—at his side.
Brienne's outlook was far less romantic than Jaime's notions were, however. In the back of her head she dwelled on darker thoughts as she ruthlessly toiled over the fireboard: there was the real threat of either thieves or Lannister soldiers sneaking up on them in the dead of night; starvation crossed her mind as well as she nervously surveyed the last strips of dried horse meat and stale bread left in their dwindling sacks; the fear of freezing to death was starting to become a sincere possibility once she saw the evening sky melt from golden pinks and smoky amethyst to an ominous, oily black sky.
Still, she labored; her steely determination was what permitted her to learn how to fight so well, it was what got her to be on Renly's Kingsguard and it was what kept her bound to oaths and vows that would have made most men turn tail and run.
If she was capable of doing so much based on sheer determination alone, surely she was capable of making a simple fire on her own.
Doggedly, she pushed and slid the wooden rod into the track of the fireboard, again and again with a renewed focus; Jaime sighed melodramatically, finding himself both loving and hating Brienne's stubbornness all in the same breath. For half a beat, Brienne faltered in her intense labor; she was distracted by the small blast of warm breath caressing the back of her neck; it made her scalp tingle as unwanted goose flesh started to rise on her arms. She absolutely had to make this fire; otherwise... otherwise she would have no choice but to lie in bed with Jaime.
Feeling perplexed by her cow like stubbornness, Jaime felt his lower jaw clench in a brief flash of anger before his patience simply wore out. He hated feeling so ignored.
"Wench!"
His blistering shout cracked the frozen silence surrounding them both, forcing Brienne out of her narrow and blinding focus with a great flinch of surprise. Startled by his tone, Brienne leaned her weight into the spindle with too much force, causing the stick to snap in half; the jagged splinters of fibrous wood shattered into both of her pale and shaking hands. She instantly felt like she was holding onto a dismal bouquet composed of bitter failure in her aching, blistered hands. For one brief moment she felt like weeping; it was all beginning to feel so damned and desperate for her.
Finally lifting her head up for the first time in over an hour, Brienne straightened her aching back with a deep sigh and spoke in a heavy, panted breath.
"What?"
Pleased that she was at least paying some attention to him, Jaime felt his face crack into a wide, satisfied smile. Watching her chest rise and fall from all of her exertions with a discrete eye, Jaime felt himself grow eerily silent.
For some reason, watching Brienne labor so hard had become a strange, unexpected delight for Jaime. He soon realized that he enjoyed watching Brienne hunched over, so focused and strong, stubborn and mule-like; he savored to hear her breathe hard as he casually observed sweat that mingled and gathered at the back of her long, flushed neck; he was thrilled to see the lines of her strong back as her head and shoulders bobbed up and down, rhythmically, always moving faster; he had felt a slight shiver roll through his body whenever he chose to concentrate on all of the unique sounds she had made; between her soft grunts and breathy sighs, it sparked interesting questions in Jaime's mind while Brienne's particular sounds filled the still quiet of the dark and damp cellar. It was no longer enough that she was now willing to speak to him; he now needed for her to look at him as well.
Fed up with his neediness, Brienne turned her head far to the side to glance at him over her thick shoulder. In the dark corner of the cellar, wrapped in thick blankets and deep shadows, Brienne saw Jaime's brilliant green eyes shine along with a row of his perfect teeth in the gloaming evening light. His smug expression had irked her for some reason. Feeling her fingers unclench from the broken stick she dropped the splintered wood to the ground as she tried to slow her panting.
"The wood..." She made an exhausted gesture with her hand over the fireboard. "...it's too wet."
Jaime nodded his head slowly with a reserved grin; he knew that, reveled in it, truth be told. He didn't understand why he took so much pleasure out of that fact; both were likely to freeze to death if they didn't get warm soon. Still feeling playful, Jaime tried to swallow his grin as he responded.
"Hmmm, 'too wet'—that is a problem. Oh, I know! Why don't we start a fire so we can dry out the wood! And then we can—ow!"
Brienne was exhausted by all of Jaime's snarky comments, she was in no mood for his teasing paradoxes as well; before he could finish his tart reply she threw one half of the wooden spindle and hit him square on the shoulder.
"Alright—so, a fire is not looking...not looking too bloody likely." Brienne dropped her head to her chest with a defeated grunt of acceptance. Massaging his wounded shoulder with a tight smirk he continued. "My suggestion? We take all of the boards we can find; try to cover the cellar opening before the winds set in, and then we'll just..." Brienne's head lifted slightly. "We'll just have to make the best out of a bad situation"
The maid's blue eyes slowly began to flutter shut; she understood what Jaime was referring to: 'making the best out of a bad situation' meant that they would have to huddle close together and share the same bedding for the night. Rolling her aching shoulder, Brienne absentmindedly nodded her head and forced her tongue not to make any sharp objections. Her stubborn pride would have forced her to make any excuse in order to sleep far apart from him. Couldn't be that bad, she reasoned to herself. We had to sleep next to each other before, tied up to one another like twins when we were captured by the Bloody Mummers.
Slowly turning back around, Brienne saw a strange, innocent expression on Jaime's face.
I could always pretend...
Jaime took Brienne's sheepish eye contact for agreement. With newfound enthusiasm, he lifted his tired body off of the cold dirt floor; he tried hard to hold back a pained grimace as freezing aches bolted through his joints and a strange smile threatening to surface to his lips. Brienne watched him slowly pick up blackened boards off the floor with a thoughtful assessment; slowly, she pulled herself off the floor to join him as well.
Together they made a quick effort of closing the entry to the cellar with every board they managed to find. They worked quietly together, only communicating with just a few spoken words between slight nods, pointed looks and small hums of doubt or approval.
When the last board finally slid into place, Brienne instantly felt nervous in the suddenly dark room the two now shared. Some moonlight managed to shine through the slats of the boards as Jaime rummaged through their sack and pulled out a thick strip of salted horse meat for her. Together, seated next to one another on the cold floor, they chewed through their tough meat with slow, methodical reflection; Jaime started to hear a faint, annoying click in Brienne's jaw halfway through their tedious meal.
With the last swallows of their stringy horse meat, Brienne felt a small ball of anxiety settle in her stomach once she realized that they had nothing else left to do other than to go to bed together. Jaime quirked his bearded cheek off to one side with a nonplussed frown; he couldn't understand why he felt awkward about this exchange even though he imagined it earlier that day. Risking a glance over at Brienne he quickly read her stoic face and realized how awkward this was all starting to become.
Without any intention of doing so, both of them felt their eyes lock onto one another in the cool darkness they both shared. Thankfully, a small gale wind rattled the boards loudly overhead, breaking the tenuous spell of their palpable silence. Brienne's eyes darted down to her primly folded legs while Jaime watched the boards clatter and dance wildly above them.
There's nothing to worry about; I can just pretend that he wants me as much as I want him. I can even pretend that I'm someone who's small, beautiful and wanted...
Swallowing past a thick tongue that choked him with sudden nerves, Jaime looked back down at his boots and tried very hard to look anywhere but at Brienne's face. He could hear his voice tremble slightly as he tried to diffuse the tension with a false air of nonchalance.
"Well...to bed, wench."
Faintly speaking in agreement, Brienne numbly lifted her legs as she watched Jaime fumble with the blankets with his single hand. Brienne spoke to him with a gentle, considerate tone.
"Here; to me."
Both knew by now what Jaime was capable of doing and not doing with only a single hand. Handing over the heavy blanket towards Brienne, Jaime kept his eyes down as the maid shook out their bedding with a sharp efficiency. After a few moments, a modest bed for them was finally made. Neither one dared to suggest removing any of their clothing. It was already awkward enough for them to lie down together; there was no need for them to make it feel even stranger.
Making a faint grunt of approval, Jaime wordlessly climbed in and folded himself onto the floor without a second glance towards the wench. Brienne looked down and watched Jaime scratch his beard with strange relish; distractedly, she couldn't help but wonder if Jaime had been scourged with fleas again.
She didn't realize that she was staring down at him until Jaime fixed his eyes upon her mid scratch. Holding his fingers still, he slowly pulled his hand down from his chin and made a mocking, sweeping gesture to the open space next to him on the blanket. Swallowing back an annoyed sigh Brienne mentally rolled her eyes as she kneeled down to take her place at Jaime's side. She was stunned to discover just how warm Jaime was once he wrapped their blankets tight around each other.
The dirt floor was biting cold; had they enough wood, they would have made a small pallet to rest their bodies upon for the night. Instead, they used every piece they could find to shelter themselves from the slicing, frozen winds. Feeling a hard shiver rattle inside of her shoulders and her ribs, Brienne tried to suppress her chattering teeth but quickly failed. Without a word, Jaime wrapped his entire body around hers with a quiet and accepting grace.
His warmth had become so inviting and lovely; Brienne appreciated the dense weight of his strong body as it carefully began to smother hers in a delightful way.
"Alright?" Brienne nodded against Jaime's searching face; she could feel her chattering jaw began to lessen as her bed mate cleared his throat needlessly.
Minutes passed.
Together, their quiet thoughts started to linger without any structure in the amorphous dark. As the boards above creaked and groaned, a new sound filled the drafty cellar; a strange, muffled sound began to rise from Brienne's chest. In an instant the noise had ceased; soon after her shoulders began to shudder rapidly under Jaime's arms. A new sound started to emerge; a heaving, guttural sound that emanated from the back of her throat. Soon after it was joined by a faint sputtering noise that flickered sporadically from Brienne’s pursed lips; Jaime thought perhaps Brienne was trying really hard not to throw up.
"Brienne?"
Without any warning, a bright laughter started to erupt from Brienne's wide and generous mouth. Jaime felt his eyebrows slowly pinch together in mild confusion. Carefully, he whispered to see if she was truly alright.
"Brienne? Are—are you—”
Desperate to swallow back her burgeoning laughter, Brienne slapped a big hand over her wide, smiling mouth with a maidenly gasp. Jaime absentmindedly wondered if she had gone mad or if maybe it was his beard that was tickling her so. He really didn't know how to react to this uncharacteristic display of joviality from his perennially dour wench.
Though he waited patiently for an explanation, none surfaced from Brienne's thick lips; instead the dark confines of the cellar were filled with the siren call of Brienne's young and cheerful laughter. After a while her giggles soon turned infectious; Jaime began to softly laugh along with her as well. With a red face and streaming tears, Brienne finally spoke out loud as she tried hard not to choke on her own laughter.
"Tell me!" She tried to swallow a deep peel of absurd laughter. "Tell me how...how does a commanding general of...of a Lannister army..." Bright, twisted laughter erupted once more. "How does a commanding general of a Lannister army...lose a block...of bloody flint?"
It was hopeless; both of them began to dissolve into a boneless puddle of barking laughter and wheezing gasps. In such dark times, joy was rationed out in thin supply, but whenever it could be collected it was always cherished with sweet gratitude and a hopeful relief.
Seeing things from Brienne's point of view Jaime wordlessly shook his shaggy head 'no' and laughed as loud as the wench first did.
"I...I haven't...I haven't a fucking clue!"
The two twisted together in their blankets as their laughter swelled anew. Feeling their cheeks ache and the muscles in their stomachs pinch from hard laughter, the two melted into silent, gasping pants of joy.
"I'm a Lannister, Brienne! I can't even take a shit in a camp without half of dozen squires offering to wipe my arse!"
Together they began to wheeze and sputtered in their renewed laughter once more. As their mirth began to dwindle into natural lulls of chuckling reflection, Brienne had to concede to Jaime's simple yet obvious explanation. Of course he didn't have to worry about such trivial things like tidiness or having to put things back where they belonged; he was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the heir to a Lannister dynasty; men like him were never responsible for silly things such as being accountable for their own supplies.
With a faint trace of melancholy, Brienne started to grow quiet as Jaime's laughing face scratched against her wounded cheek.
Maybe this is what it feels like. Maybe this is how it feels to be loved by a man. I can just pretend—for one night—I can pretend and make believe that I'm someone who's beautiful enough... That I'm someone who's pretty enough to be loved.
Feeling the joy in their humble bed quietly melt away, Jaime contented himself in wrapping his left arm around Brienne's strong waist, burying his only hand into the warm, tight space where her torso met the floor. Feeling satisfied he let out a small sigh through his nose with an easy smile; he enjoyed feeling her brittle hair flutter and softly tickle his cold nose.
Within a few moments, all of the humor bled out of the room once Jaime's hand moved past her thick clothing and started to caress the soft, bare skin he had found there. He palmed and stroked a little patch of her lean stomach, slowly and without much thought; in time a new silence had fallen between them. Both of them were wide awake but neither one could see the other person's face. Brienne wanted to shiver as she felt her strength began to falter; being wrapped up in Jaime's arms was overwhelming for her; it felt like it was almost too much. Every inch of her body that was pressed up tight up against his felt so vibrant and wild; she felt like her bones were starting to dissolve with every one of his soft, innocuous touches. She loved the feel of his warm breath as it ghosted through her hair. Squeezing her eyes shut, she allowed herself to imagine that they were more than just friends; she imagined that for one night, out of all of the beautiful women that existed in this cruel world, Jaime had chosen her above all others.
Jaime tried to pretend that he was asleep, more so for her sake rather than his. He had been amazed that Brienne had allowed for this to happen at all; his bristly, prickly wench was always so keen to keep her distance from everyone. Feeling her chest rise and fall, pressed so close to his, Jaime had wondered if she thought that he was asleep. Glancing down at her pale gold hair, he slowly lifted his head to let his eyes linger down her long legs, finding them twisted neatly together. It wasn't until then that he realized that their blankets did not cover her legs entirely. Horrified to see her so exposed Jaime slowly dragged his hand away from the wench's torso and pulled his arm out of their cozy little nest.
"Jaime?"
Feeling him sit up so abruptly, Brienne turned her head over to see what was wrong. Did I offend him in some way? She was too scared to admit it, but she didn't want him to let her go.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Brienne blinked her bright eyes with a dull comprehension. She turned her shoulder back over to see that he was adjusting their blankets to better cover her legs. "You're practically...half naked...and you didn't even bother to say a word about it." Flustered by his accusation, Brienne held her tongue as she felt his cold hand tug and tuck their blankets securely beneath her legs.
"Better?"
Brienne nodded; for one moment their eyes had locked in the frozen dark. Something in his piercing eyes had begun to soften; Brienne refused to believe that he was looking at her in any way that was either sweet or romantic. Her blue eyes remained wide and unblinking; to Jaime, she had a startled look on her face as if though he had just caught her touching herself in the bathtub.
Without a moment to think twice about it, Jaime's thoughts turned to the day he saw her naked in the baths of Harrenhal. A sudden flush of heat climbed up the back of his neck. With an abrupt clearing of his throat he made a dismissive nod and fell back down to sleep, tugging Brienne down with him.
As they squirmed and settled in again, Brienne was surprised to find Jaime's hand resting possessively on her upper arm beneath the blankets. His right arm curled beneath her tired head; he made an effort to conceal his disfigurement beneath the folds of the woolen blankets. She could feel her heartbeat slam within the hollow of her throat. A high whistle of blistering winds started to rattle the boards mounted above them. Brienne looked up towards the night sky and saw a thin sliver of moonlight peak out between the slats of two fire charred boards.
"If you knew then what you know now, would you have ever done anything differently?"
The question had taken Jaime by surprise. He considered her words, allowing the concept to tumble in his memories as he began to absentmindedly stroke Brienne's upper arm with a distant thought to keep her warm. His silence lingered; Brienne was starting to hope that he never heard her silly question. Finally, he replied.
"Knowing what I know now...I know I would've been kinder to you when we first met..." Brienne tried not to smile in his warm arms. "Though you still would have left me in fetters, no matter how eloquently I'd argue that one day we would become friends." It was no use, Brienne had to smile. "I've made plenty of mistakes, Brienne. I've know enough regret to fill a whole lifetime." Brienne winced in the dark, she never intended to inspire such remorse in Jaime with such a flippant question. Instantly, she regretted speaking at all. "But would I have done things differently, knowing what I know now?" His hand continued its slow drag up and down Brienne's lean arm.
"No."
The maiden felt her breath grow still in her chest. "Every choice I ever made, I made it because I believed that I was doing the right thing: the Kingsguard, Aerys, Cersei, my brother...you. I would have still joined the Kingsguard, knowing all that I know now. I still would have killed the Mad King, knowing full well I'd be damned as a soiled knight for the rest of my life. I would still have freed Tyrion, in spite of the terrible price. I still would have...chosen...Cersei, in spite all of the madness it has caused; there would have been no Tommen, no Myrcella if I hadn't. I still would have protected and defended you at all costs. Your impossible honor is worth the price of ten good sword hands, wench." His last words lingered in the frozen air like the fragrant smoke of holy incense that bled from some astral plane hidden in the frozen cellar.
Your impossible honor is worth the price...
Jaime finally realized that his lone hand was making a sweet, comforting stroke up and down the length of Brienne's strong arm. Feeling his hand grow still, the maid of Tarth felt her throat go dry as Jaime's nose started to burrow deeper into the back of her filthy, tangled hair.
"Even now...I know I'm making the right choice." Brienne felt her heart slam hard against her ribs. Over the winds that whistled high above she heard him faintly whisper into her ear as he completed his answer with a final thought.
"No matter what happens next...I will always choose you, Brienne."
She didn't know if it was the cold air or the dust in the cellar that made her eyes fill with thick tears. Holding back a watery sigh Brienne allowed herself to melt into Jaime's arms for one moment as the winds of winter howled high above them.
A deafening silence began to linger; starting to feel nervous, Jaime finally decided to speak up. "What about you?"
She felt startled by his question. "Me?"
A small hum of his confirmation filled her ears. Brienne honestly didn't think Jaime would lob the question back to her. "Come now, wench; knowing what you know now, would you have ever left Tarth just so you could one day have the honor of freezing to death beside a useless knight, forever known as the Kingslayer?"
Brienne looked back up at the crescent moon through the fire blistered boards with a reflective sigh. With a faint squeeze of his hand on her shoulder Brienne finally found the voice to reply.
"I miss home."
Brienne felt Jaime grow still behind her. "I hate to admit it...but, I ache for Tarth." Jaime frowned into Brienne's curling hair. "My father, Evenfall, the white sands, the sound of the waves crashing outside of my bedroom window. My father has at least a dozen cats that rule the castle in his stead; fat, golden, spoiled beasts that do nothing other than spend all day either eating or dozing in the sunlight. It's funny how I miss them all of a sudden." Jaime started to chuckle low into her ear. "But if I'm honest...I also felt doomed there." Jaime's hand squeezed tight on her shoulder once more.
"Either I had to leave...or endure the shameful pity from others for simply being who I am. Or worse...suffer the indignity of another arranged marriage with some pompous lord's son."
"Pompous lord's son...similar to the likes of Ser Ronnet Connington?"
Brienne froze in Jaime's arms. "How—who told—”
"Relax, wench." Jaime yawned heartily as he tried to ease Brienne's head back down to his warm bicep; Brienne started to yawn deeply soon after. "I had the dubious honor of making his acquaintance at Harrenhal; it was during my last campaign in the Riverlands. And if I may say...it pleases me to note that you can do far better than the likes of him."
Brienne felt a deep blush fill her cheeks; Jaime continued a moment later, thinking of all of the cruel things Connington had said to him before he happily cracked his smirking jaw with his golden fist. "He was never worthy of you." Brienne felt dizzy once she heard him softly confess those sweet words to her. "He could have lived to be a hundred years old and transform into the perfect knight incarnate...and he would still not be good enough for you."
Brienne had wanted nothing more but to kiss him in that moment. She wanted to find a woman's courage in her fragile heart just so she could roll her body towards his face and press her chapped lips up against his own. She may know how to fight, battle, defend and protect, but she still struggled with the simplest wants of her battered heart.
"So..." Jaime's voice struggled to sound both casual and breezy with a dry crack in his suddenly tight throat. "No regrets?"
Brienne felt a smile coil on her lips as if though she had just defeated a mocking champion in combat. "No...no regrets. Knowing what I know now, I wouldn't change a thing."
Out of nowhere, Jaime lifted his hand off of the wench's arm and started to finger back the matted, tangled curls away from her ear.
"I just want to belong."
The maid didn't even realize that she had said those words out loud until it was too late. Jaime could barely hear her small voice over the whistling winds above them. But he did hear them, and something in his chest started to twist with a fresh and unexpected ache. Stroking her hair back away from her mangled cheek Jaime closed his eyes and before he knew it, he kissed the back of Brienne's head.
The moment his lips touched her head both of their eyes bolted wide open in shock. For Jaime, he didn't even realize what he was doing until it had already been done; he had been amazed to realize that kissing Brienne had felt so natural, so simple. His lips froze mid kiss with a slight tremble of terror; he had to wonder if she was going to jump out of his arms and skitter behind her thick walls forever. Brienne could hardly believe what was happening. As his lips lingered in her hair she tried to dismiss his sweet gesture vehemently in her head: he must be asleep, he's probably dreaming; he just made an honest mistake; he is only teasing me, this is all just a big joke to him.
Once his lips finally pulled away from her head, she heard a small, wet kissing sound fill her ears; Brienne suddenly understood that Jaime was not mocking her, he had genuinely kissed her with intention.
Realizing that Brienne's chest didn't move for a while, Jaime felt a hot dread burn deep inside of his throat. His eyes darted, sightless in the black cellar; he looked at the back of her head and wondered if she had felt revolted by his actions; he glanced at one corner of the cellar and briefly wished he could sink into a hole and die of embarrassment. Before he could turn his head away from his assumed humiliation he felt Brienne's hand reach out for the mangled wrist that was supporting her neck. In a moment, everything had shifted; she peeled back the wool blankets that concealed his stump and tenderly kissed the puckered end of his right arm.
She had been terrified, of course, but in that moment Brienne realized she would always regret it if she never returned Jaime's sweet kiss in some way. Feeling her chest rises and fall against his own, Jaime could tell that she was now just as terrified of the next moment as was he.
Moved by her sweetness, he pulled her tighter into his arms and instinctually felt his body wrap firmly around hers. Brienne held on to his shortened arm with a strong grip while her eyes stayed shut against the howl of doubts rising in her mind. Feeling his hold on her grow tighter, the maid blindly used the tip of her left boot to guide one of Jaime's feet inside of the tight wedge between her ankles. She quickly felt her back grow soft and pliant against his strong chest; Jaime started to smile bashfully into her ratted blonde hair.
Smelling the dried sweat on the back of her neck and the strange, woodsy fragrance of her freckled skin, Jaime closed his eyes and placed a slow and full kiss to the back of Brienne's head once more. With a fierce whisper, Jaime squeezed his eyes shut and wished for her to have a sweet, dreamless sleep.
"Good night, Brienne."
Brienne found that she no longer had the courage to speak; instead, she nuzzled her cheek into the soft skin of where Jaime's right hand used to be. As the snow started to fall outside, Jaime squeezed Brienne tight to his chest once more. Feeling warm and protected, both managed to lull themselves into a deep sleep by the sound of the other person's even breathing.
Somehow, in a frozen wasteland, with no fire to keep them warm, two broken souls found the courage to let their guards down and managed to create a perfect fire of their own.