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One wineskin was not nearly enough; the thought of carrying three felt excessive. It was decided: "Two of your Dornish red."
The barkeep hardly looked up from the counter; the man had a purple nose from heavy drinking and deep bags under his teary eyes. He had to hold on to every flat surface he could reach as to not fall over; Jaime briefly wondered if the man who served him would ever live to see the end of the week, never mind the end of winter. As the barkeep held an empty skin up to the nozzle of the wine barrel he swayed wearily as a bubbling, watery belch graced the air surrounding them.
Two bladders filled at last, Jaime fished deep within his concealed pockets for a stag but the sloshed proprietor discouraged him, waving a hand over the counter with a sputtering, dismissive sound oozing from his lips. "Nahhhhhh, keep your silver." Jaime felt suspicious; the barkeep continued. "It's my wife's nameday." With a flit of his eyebrows Jaime briefly felt moved by the barkeeps thoughtful generosity. That is, until the barkeep continued. "That filthy, thieving, cheating cunt..."
With his eyebrows pinched high together Jaime nodded his head briefly before he gathered his wine and left the tavern with breathless gratitude. Across the street he found Brienne near the bakery, cornered against the wall while two children stared up at the maiden in wide eyed fascination. Brienne caught his eye across the way, pleading with him silently to rescue her. Holding back a sardonic grin Jaime walked across the bustling street to save his stranded wench.
"Have you killed many people?"
"Are you a knight?"
"Did you see the Others?"
Over their tiny heads, Brienne mouthed out the word 'help' as Jaime reached over the towheaded brats to offer up his hand to Brienne. "Alright, alright; the lady is flattered, but she cannot talk; the wench is mute."
The little girl looked up at both Brienne and Jaime with a baffled expression on her face.
"B-b-but she spoke just a moment ago!"
Once their little eyes looked up at him Jaime quickly shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes in a subtle response; with a dry, unimpressed voice he continued. "Then... it's a miracle. Gods be praised. Come wench, we must go to a sept and offer up our voracious worship to the gods."
Far from graceful, Jaime jerked the maid closer to his side and away from the sticky hands of the pestering, slack jawed street urchin. Relieved, Brienne happily allowed for Jaime to extract her with little concern for who watched them. For a moment he paused once the little boy cried out to them from the ever growing distance between them. "Hey! Hey! The sept is that a-way!" The blond headed boy pointed down the street in the opposite direction where they were walking. Jaime continued on without even speaking; the maid held back a rising boil of laughter once he quickly glanced back at her with a knowing grin and gave her a small squeeze of his hand.
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Though they had no lack of coin, they still lacked the freedom to wander as they pleased; Lannister forces were still a crippling presence as they struggled to make their way safely out of the Riverlands.
Finding a room to stay in was starting to feel like a distant fantasy rather than a real possibility for them. Though they'd complain about spending another night outdoors, both were quietly pleased to have another excuse to sleep close to each other for one more night. Both slept well in each other's presence, neither one felt any fear with the other on guard.
Though Lannister forces were greatly diminished in the valleys they now traveled through, they still could not find a vacant room for the night. A small lord from the area was hosting a great wedding at his holdfast; every inn was occupied, stuffed to the gills from traveling guests. After much searching, Brienne managed to secure a night in the hayloft of an old barn on a shuttered up dairy. The maiden had payed well to insure discretion but the farmer was near blind and too indifferent to pay any mind to the likes of them.
Making their way up the steep ladder to the hayloft, Brienne nervously watched Jaime climb the creaking ladder above her; her strong back felt strained as she hoisted up the heavy satchel containing their renewed supplies.
"Jaime...what on earth did you buy? It feels like you filled this sack with rocks."
Holding back his laughter, Jaime tried hard to focus on his precarious climb. Glancing down at his friend beneath his feet he huffed out his excuses. "I had to make a special stop; don't worry wench, it won't be that heavy tomorrow."
Brienne safely concluded what she was lugging up once she heard him make such a veiled promise. Dismounting from the ladder to the squeaky floor of the hayloft, Jaime offered Brienne his one hand as he coiled his right arm around the top rung of the ladder. Offloading the heavy parcel first, Brienne quickly reached the floor of the dusty loft soon after.
Dusk had settled; the winds were not as high in this valley as their previous locations had been, but the cold was still bitter no matter where they went. Although their loft lacked basic amenities, the two had the luxury of sharing a hot meal that night. Their supper, a watery bowl of old potatoes along with greasy bits of strange meat was consumed in silence in the company of the farmer. Jaime couldn't help but notice their host had a generous serving of meat in his bowl; meanwhile both of them mostly consumed floating chunks of gristle instead. Jaime sniffed at their rustic fare while throwing a knowing look at the maid. The old man is not as blind as he wants us to think.
With a deep breath Jaime let out a heavy sigh once he settled into the hayloft; he was relieved that they were finally alone. Well, mostly alone. A rogue goat somehow managed to climb its way up into the hayloft. Watching the two encroach upon his personal space the challenging kid bleated loudly, promptly letting out a healthy stream of piss before he wandered off. Brienne shrugged at Jaime; it was still better than sleeping outside.
They started to unpack their loaded satchel briskly; two heavy wineskins was Jaime's first priority; Brienne furrowed her brow.
"Special occasion?"
There was no judgement in her tone but Jaime still felt a little nervous explaining himself to her. "It is: today is a very special day, and I thought it'd be wise to mark the occasion." Brienne waited patiently. Jaime slumped down to the straw covered floor with one skin on his lap; his voice dropped low and his eyes looked anywhere other than at Brienne.
"It's Myrcella's name day."
The obstinate goat off in the corner of the barn started to bleat, loudly. Quickly glancing over his shoulder Jaime smiled. "See, even the goat knew." The maid grinned while slowly taking a seat across from him on the straw covered floor. "I'd offer you a drink but I think we both know what the answer to that will be."
Brienne felt herself freeze in surprise. "You assume."
Jaime drank with a confident squint in his eyes. "I know."
Seated against one of the pillars of the hayloft, Brienne looked down at her boots and considered the finality of Jaime's cool, dismissive words. Pausing in his modest festivities, he glanced over at Brienne and frowned. "What's wrong? You've been awful quiet all evening—quiet even for you."
"Nothing..."
Indeed, what is wrong?
She had a hard time explaining it, even to herself; all throughout dinner, something weighed on her mind. It was a slow, nagging feeling that would sometimes interrupt her thoughts and bring her to distraction. It all started when the children outside of the bakery had cornered her. It was how they looked at her that gave her pause; there was no judgement, no anger in their eyes, no look of disgust from either of them. They looked at her as if she wasn't some unfortunate anomaly or a hideous freak; they looked at her as if she was a person...as if she was someone who mattered.
Making an effort to ignore the intrusive thoughts, the maid started to bristle at Jaime's causal assumptions of her; she had made up her mind. "I have no objections to drinking."
"You? Drink." Jaime shrugged one shoulder with a brief shake of his head. A modest smile began to crawl across his face once he pulled out the second skin from their sack. "Huh...would never have imagined such a thing."
Accepting the wine with a murmur of 'thank you' Brienne popped off the cork with her horsey teeth while Jaime sat back down with a strange look of amusement on his lips. Before she took her first sip Brienne caught Jaime's eyes and briefly tipped the mouthpiece of her wineskin towards him.
"To your daughter."
Slightly taken aback by the maid's sweet wish, Jaime only nodded his head lightly before he returned his salute to her. With silent gratitude he drank well and deep, trying hard in making a swift effort to numb the dull ache in his heart. Brienne took a polite swig and quickly grimaced with her face screwed up tight. Jaime watched her comical disgust with a faint laugh while she struggled to gulp down the wine; it had been a long time since she last enjoyed spirits.
"What other things about me have you imagined?"
Jaime felt caught with a mouthful of drink; Brienne was amused to see one side of his cheeks puffed out like a squirrel. With a stressed smirk and a quick swallow, he finally replied. "I imagine...I imagine you were a handful as a child. Am I close? Did you raise all seven hells on the peaceful island of Tarth?"
With a deep swig and a quick, shuddering grimace, Brienne's eyes darted high along the rafters of the barn in searching memory. She shrugged. "Perhaps; but I mostly kept to myself. I'd spend long hours in my father's study, reading. My favorite books were all of the tales of old Valyria." With a faint sloshing sound, the maid squeezed the wine bladder with her fingers in recollection. "My father was frequently gone; I'd always beg for him to take me on one of his voyages, but...he'd never let me. Part of me believes he wanted to insulate his only living child on Tarth for as long as possible." Brienne took another deep swig. Or he was trying hard to conceal me...
Jaime nodded his head before he scratched the bridge of his nose. "What would you do then?"
"Oh you know...all of the silly things girls are raised to do for when they grow up to become proper ladies: singing, dancing, needle point, practicing court etiquette, lessons..." She took a healthy drag this time, swallowing it while hardly flinching. "Endless lessons: memorizing all of the great and minor houses; who was allied with whom—”
"Learning how to fight with sword and mace; learning strategy to defeat every opponent you'll ever cross?" A strange laugh tumbled out of her pink lips, she tried very hard not to blush at Jaime's interruption; he had a beaming grin stretched across his face while the tip of his boot playfully tapped against the wench's ankle. Considering him with a teasing smile, Brienne soon felt her lips fall into a straight line once her eyes finally caught hold of his. "You almost defeated me, you know."
Jaime snorted in amusement as he remembered their fight in Maidenpool. It feels like a lifetime ago. "No need to lie, Brienne." Once he brought the wineskin to his mouth Brienne quickly swallowed her mouthful while nodding. "It's true, Jaime. Had I released you from your fetters I'm certain—”
Keeping his eyes focused on his lap, Jamie muttered his dismissal with a wry tone of embarrassment. "You flatter, wench." He couldn't help but take another deep swig. Brienne continued to enforce her claim.
"Flattery is for liars, ser, I do not—"
Abruptly, she felt the heavy weight of her own words die in her mouth; memories of Stoneheart and her deceit at Pennytree filled the quiet space between them. A heavy, pregnant pause filled the air; Brienne lowered her eyes in a thick wash of shame; Jaime kept his gaze down upon his lap as well. A moment passed; eventually, he knocked the heel of Brienne's boot with his toe and offered her up a quick, flashing smirk to her.
"You still flatter...but thank you for the compliment." Both of them were surprised to hear how low and gravely Jaime's voice was. With a deep sigh he started to relax; he was finally beginning to feel the first pulls of a warming lethargy spreading down his arms: he was starting to feel drunk. Good. Bittersweet memories of his daughter crossed his mind; with a heavy drag of wine Jaime happily welcomed the intoxicated feeling. Brienne's eyes were distant and unfocused in a dark corner of the barn. Finally, she spoke in a nervous, self-conscious voice. "What else would you imagine?"
He thought on her question for a moment as he took another sip. Some provocative ideas he once thought of crossed his mind; instead, he chose to speak on neutral subjects. "For some reason, I'm not sure why, I've always imagined you swimming around the waters of Tarth like a fish." Brienne nodded as she swallowed a fresh mouthful of Dornish red. "I did." Jaime smirked in victory as his eyes assessed the thinning wineskin in his hands. "I knew it."
A slow, goofy smile crawled across Brienne's pink lips; whether she knew it or not, she was most certainly getting drunk. "The docks men’s son. Jon." That surprising little detail suddenly got Jaime's undivided attention. "I taught him how to swim. He was a good friend. He was very sweet...very kind to me." It was that moment Jaime noticed a bright, intoxicated flush creep up Brienne's long throat; for some reason he felt his heart skip a beat from the sight of it. He felt like teasing her but a pinch of jealousy curdled the tone of his voice. "You fancied him."
Brienne looked down at the nozzle of her wineskin with an obvious grin while her voice began to turn girlish and playful; to Jaime's utter delight he saw Brienne hunching her shoulders over her knees once she started to giggle. "Hmmm. Mmmayyybeee..."
"You did..." Jaime decided that he needed to hear more about this alleged 'Jon'. "Was he—let me guess, let me guess: mysterious; tall, with dark hair and blue eyes?" Just like your precious Renly?
A strange twist of anxiety filled his stomach. Brienne quickly lifted her glassy eyes up to meet his; she was surprised to find a determined, almost annoyed look coiled on his mouth. "No...no he was sweet; red hair and brown eyes. And he was the first..." Brienne suddenly took a deep swig from her wineskin; over the sagging leather pouch she saw Jaime's frown and narrowing eyes.
Annoyed by her pause, Jaime quickly raised his eyebrows while leaning his chest forward; he anxiously waited for the wench to complete her thought. Impatient, he tried to lead Brienne back to her original statement as she grimaced with a fresh swallow. "He was your first..."
She had to admit it; Brienne enjoyed watching Jaime squirm. "He was...the first person I'd ever met who had more freckles than I."
"Oh."
It was too sweet. The maid tried hard not to laugh once she saw Jaime drop his shoulders in obvious disappointment. Pondering his curious reaction, Brienne slowly dragged her tongue over her lower lip with skeptical eyes pointed at him; she quickly realized what it was that Jaime had assumed about her innocent relationship with Jon.
"Wait, what did you mean—”
With the honing edge of offense in her voice, Jaime started to panic. "No—nothing!" A curious blush filled his face; it was still visible over his shaggy hair and unkempt beard. He honestly didn't believe that his wench lost her maidenhead to someone so beneath her, but just the very idea of it somehow became...exciting to him. "I thought—I thought that perhaps he was your...first...kiss?"
Thoughts of Jon crossed Brienne's mind; he once gave her a yellow daisy after he found her crying alone by the shore; she always loved his deep laugh and his tender heart towards animals always endeared him to her. He was not only the first person she'd seen with more freckles than her, he was also the first person on the island who was actually friendly to her. Regretfully, Jon was not her first kiss, though she had often wished that he was. Feeling Jaime's eyes on her, Brienne shook her head as a reply.
"No?"
Jaime couldn't explain why he suddenly felt so relieved; he simply was. Not wanting to dwell on that thought, he continued speaking with a falsely sweet voice. "Who was?" The barn was far too silent for Brienne's liking. Off in the corner she heard the sneaking goat lull in the straw while Jaime kept his eyes locked on her unfocused gaze. A veil of shame graced her features; wordlessly, she squirmed as a flush of heat rose up her neck. At this point, it was obvious what her answer would be, but still, he had to hear it.
"No one?"
Exasperated, she pinched the bridge of her nose while she answered him in desperation.
"I once...got a name day peck on the cheek from my brother."
He shouldn't have laughed—he knew better—but out of nowhere a flood of sweet relief came rushing through him. With a gasping, breathless laugh Jaime tried not to make it obvious that he relished in his mirth while Brienne fumed with embarrassment. "Family—Brienne...family doesn't count."
Too ashamed to speak, Brienne pulled her knees up close to her chest while she suddenly found the wineskin in her lap to be the most fascinating object in the world. He cringed; Jaime instantly felt bad for making her feel so uncomfortable; still, he persisted. "Soooooo...no one?"
Brienne eventually shook her head 'no' following another drag of her wine.
It was an intriguing notion for Jaime: Brienne has never been kissed. Leaning his back against the creaky wall of the barn he crossed his arms over his chest in a drunken mixture of awe and fascination. With some absurdity, he assessed Brienne's bashful demeanor and felt a strange pride grow in him. It was as if though he had learned that he was about to become the first man to ever summit an untouchable mountain. To think; no man has ever known her mouth. She does have a lovely mouth... Jaime didn't realize it, but he had been openly staring at Brienne's lips for a long time.
"Jaimmmeeee..."
His heart started to clench; Brienne looked cute while trying to bury her face in her large hands. "No. It's, it's nothing to be embarrassed about, wench. I mean, it's nothing—but really? Never? Not even as a..."
Raising her face from her dirty weave of fingers, the maid grew defensive. "As a what?" Her mind instantly filled in the blank that Jaime's words left hanging in the air.
Not even as a joke?
He grappled for assuring, gentle words to say. Be careful. "Not even as...an...awkward, fumbling...experimental...first kiss from your gentleman friend, Jon...the bloody sea man."
Brienne instantly realized how much she enjoyed the taste of Dornish red compared to openly discussing her virginity with Jaime Lannister. Annoyed by his dismissal of Jon, Brienne corrected him. "He was the docks man’s son."
"Yes, yes...the cocksmith's son. Not even once...with anyone?"
Reluctantly, Brienne was forced to recall the desperate, horrifying kiss Ser Owen Inchfield planted on her lips during the humiliating bet she suffered in Renly's camp. She remembered how good it felt to knock him into the campfire that night. Chewing on her lower lip she finally continued. "How would you describe a proper first kiss?"
Scratching the back of his neck, Jaime ungraciously lowered his torso to the straw floor, using his right arm to prop up his head, swimming pleasantly with laughter and wine. "That's easy, wench. That's when a man finds a woman so perfect for him that wants to share everything he has with her...and in total fear, he kisses her, desperately hoping that she will want to share everything with him too."
Carefully listening to his definition, Brienne firmly nodded her head. Somehow, a small lump in her throat started to form. Nervously fidgeting with the dried stalks of grain piled beneath her knees the maid finally spoke while the slick pieces of golden straw began to slide through her numb fingers. "Well...that's not looking too bloody likely for me, is it?"
A sobering expression instantly appeared on Jaime's face. "No. I'm proud to say that's not true."
Slumping down onto the straw floor as well, Brienne propped her head up with her right hand, lying down as a complementing duality for Jaime's resting form. With each other's faces looking at the other person's boots, Brienne sighed as she began to languidly stretch her arms and legs. "Then by your criteria alone, I reluctantly admit that I've never been kissed."
"Hmmmmm." Jaime heard her words but somehow didn't respond. He was feeling oddly distracted once he saw a flash of Brienne's firm stomach while she stretched. "How about you?"
Silence lingered; Jaime finally realized that Brienne asked him a question. "Hmmm—wha, me?"
Rolling her eyes, Brienne felt her tongue turn loose with saucy, drunken impatience. "Well, I'm certainly not speaking to the goat that's shitting behind you." The two glanced over at the territorial kid who was defecating behind him. With a sputter of amusement, both peeled off into a sloppy pile of drunken laughter. Thankful to have the tension finally broken, Brienne persisted with a smiling face. "Who was your first kiss Jaime?"
It suddenly felt warm in the barn; nervously running his hand over the back of his neck Jaime began to squirm. As silence lingered, Brienne saw a reluctant, suggestive look dawn on his face. With a forced, awkward smile and one cheek quirked off to the side, Jaime deliberately widened his eyes at Brienne. Please don't make me say her name...
An avalanche of understanding fell upon the maid. "Huh. Well, surely there were others...no?" Jaime slowly shook his head 'no' with distant, unfocused eyes and the same awkward expression stuck on his face.
The deafening silence in the barn returned. "Well, Jaime...by the criteria that you alone defined, then by your own admission you too have never been kissed." A slow look of stunning disbelief unfolded across Jaime's face.
Family doesn't count.
"Brienne...I....I have fathered three children...I'm not exactly a virgin."
She started to pout. "But you yourself said tha—” Jaime suddenly felt like he wanted to die. Rolling onto his back with a self-conscious groan and a painful look on his face he threw one arm over his eyes before he finally answered Brienne's sweet yet innocent rebuttal.
"Alright, alright—yes and no. Mostly yes; by that definition alone..." He sighed deep. "Then yes: 'I've never been kissed'. But a resounding 'no' for all of the...obvious reasons." He lifted his arm from his face to finally look at Brienne. She had a goofy, silly look on her face; it wasn't till then did Jaime realize that Brienne was gazing at the bare patch of stomach he'd exposed as he rolled onto his back.
Eventually, her eyelids started to grow heavy. "Hmmmm."
With his back to the floor, Jaime stared up at a thick blanket of cobwebs draped across the sturdy beams of the rafters. With a small sigh and a belly full of wine he realized that he felt content...almost happy even. Clenching and unclenching his hand, he realized it still hurt from the punch he threw back at Left Bank. Neither one had talked about that day ever since. Twisting his head over his left shoulder Jaime threw a cautious glance towards Brienne; he found her lying on her stomach, listlessly playing with some straw as she hummed a sweet, romantic ballad to herself.
"Whatever happened to Jon?"
Brienne stopped humming; rolling onto her side to face him she let out a deep sigh while idly scratching her collar bone. "He married the chandler's daughter; some slip of a thing with black hair and grey eyes. They had a hundred children, all of them...chubby little darlings with red hair and grey eyes. And freckles." Brienne paused with a sad look on her face; "The people of Tarth will be ruined by freckles for a hundred years."
Jaime didn't know why but he reached his hand out towards her in the wide, open space stretched between them. With a deep yawn Jaime realized he was starting to get sleepy. "He died in a bar fight." That promptly woke him up. "A drunk insulted his wife. He tried to defend her honor...and they stabbed him in the gut for it."
Thoughts of punching a drunken man in the streets of Left Bank suddenly crossed Jaime's mind. Clenching and unclenching his hand once more, he studied Brienne. Her skin was flushed into a creamy peach color while her blue eyes were swimming and glassy from drink; a few pieces of golden straw stuck out of her hair, her lips were stained violet and her teeth almost looked blue. Jaime looked no better; with dark lips and stained teeth he felt some lice itching within his shaggy beard; scratching his chin in relief he quickly discovered stalks of golden straw stuck deep within his beard; lifting his hand to the back of his hair he felt more straw lodged in there too.
Brienne felt her heart racing. Feigning sleepiness to avoid her blatant attraction to him she closed her eyes and tried hard to slow down her breathing. After a while she heard the straw stir across from her.
"Come here."
She slowly opened her eyes.
"Huh?"
He smiled at her with purple teeth.
"Come. Here. It's too bloody cold..."
It wasn't that cold in the hayloft.
With little persuasion, Brienne rose up to her knees and drunkenly shuffled her body closer to his. With a deep sniff and a bashful smile she collapsed into a heavy pile on his left shoulder. Squirming around with the sound of Jaime's laughter in her ears, she tucked the back of her head deeper in his shoulder with sleepy gratitude. A while passed; the foul smelling goat bleated in the distance. Feeling himself jerk awake Jaime looked down at his side and nudged Brienne with his stump.
"Brienne...Brienne."
"Hmmph?" A flood of panic interrupted her sleep; she prayed to the gods that he didn't hear her snore.
"Roll over."
"Why?"
Jaime sighed. "Because...if you vomit in your sleep I'd much rather you throw up on me rather than having you choke to death on your own sick."
The maid sniffed her nose in amusement as her head began to twist about on his shoulder. Quietly thinking to herself, the maid counted to three in her head before she turned her whole body around. Jaime closed his eyes, assuming the wench would rest her face on the straw floor and fall back asleep; he was very surprised to feel Brienne drag a strong leg over his hips.
Hello...
Whatever Jaime might have imagined would happen, didn't, because the wench soon dragged her other leg across his hips as well. He felt so disappointed all of a sudden. Feeling instantly cold he opened his bleary eyes and looked up; he watched Brienne just as she was about to curl her body on to his right side. He suddenly laughed. I wanted her to roll her head over; instead, she rolls over her entire body. All of his amusement died on his lips once he felt the wench bury her warm face into his suddenly bobbing throat. A plesant shiver ran through him once he felt the soft puffs of her breath washing over his ear and neck.
As she burrowed one hand underneath his jerkin, her fingers slowly teasing his chest hairs over his filthy tunic, he could hear her faintly murmur something into his neck. "Thank you...most chivalrous...ser." Jaime began to stroke the length of Brienne's arm with a slow, lazy grin on his face. With a low chuckle she mumbled into his neck once more. "...should be a romantic ballad 'bout it."
Jaime started to think up a name for their romantic ballad. "It'll be called—it'll be called..."Throw Up On Me, Fair Maiden."
Silence hung in the air; before either one had a chance to speak both erupted into a drunken spill of absurd, childish laughter. After a while they both grew quiet as their cheeks began to hurt and their stomachs started to ache. Both of them began to fitfully doze off in moments; Brienne shook him in the ribs after a while.
"Jaime...Jaime."
"Hmmmf." Startled awake, Jaime desperately hoped that the maid didn't hear him snore.
"You...you too could choke on your own sick...sleeping like that."
Slowly opening one eye, Jaime quickly shrugged his vacant shoulder before he rolled over to his side. Brienne was stunned to see him roll over to face her rather than away; with a firm hand on her upper arm he dragged his chin to the top of her head while burying her face closer to his throat. The tickling scratch of his beard across her cheek left a smile on the maid's face.
After a long moment Jaime's eyes slowly bolted open. He had a sobering thought that finally crossed his mind
I could kiss her.
He glanced down at her head
Right now; I could just...stick my fingers beneath her chin. I could see her pretty eyes...and I could just...kiss her; and she could kiss me too...
With a slow, drunken boldness, Jaime carefully ran his fingers over her ratted hair; instantly, he felt his throat close up tight in fear. He watched his fingers tremble; he grazed his knuckles over her cheek instead. He paused; finally, with his fragile heart slamming inside of his chest, he propped his thumb and forefinger beneath her chin. She's so warm. Gently, he turned her face from up from his neck...and Jaime soon realized that he could not kiss her.
Brienne had already fallen asleep.
A huff of amusement rumbled deep in his chest. Disappointed, yet somehow oddly relieved, he slowly lowered her head back down to rest snug in the crook of his neck. Holding her head close to his throat Jaime started to run his fingers through her pale curls with a soothing, comforting rhythm. Feeling his eyelids grow heavy, Jaime drunkenly smiled at the petulant goat nearby, watching him watch them. He quickly made an important decision:
I am going to be the first one to kiss her.
He smiled to himself.
I'm going to think of something; I'm going to plan it all out, carefully...and when she's not expecting it, I'll kiss her. I'm going to kiss her and it’s going to be perfect. Because that's what she deserves...
Feeling contented with his decision, Jaime dropped a quick, sloppy peck to the crown of Brienne's head; a stalk of grain in her hair nearly stabbed him in the lip. He smelled her skin; he tried to figure out what her woodsy scent reminded him of. The question was beginning to annoy him; he had smelled it before, but he couldn't place it. Soon after his green eyes fell shut.
My wench deserves a first kiss.
Before long the hayloft of the barn was filled with the sounds of two people drunkenly snoring into each other's arms; off in a dark corner, a stubborn kid watched them both in the cool shadows of the dusty hayloft, quietly chewing its cud.