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It started snowing two days after they entered the unwelcoming lands of Vale. Tiny flakes of white, lazily dancing in the chill air against the dull grey sky until landing on their fatigued faces and jaded horses, and turning in cold drops of water.
But they were riding forward. Four riders, two of them several dozen steps behind the other two. They rode mainly in silence, except for the sound of hooves hitting the frozen ground and rare biting exchanges between the latter pair.
It was getting darker, the layer of snow grew thicker and the wind stronger and more vicious, cutting through the layers of worn-out clothes and furs like a sword through soft flesh. The last rider spurred his exhausted horse to catch up with the first one, stubbornly staring at some invisible point over the horizon.
“We should find a place for the night,” he said. “The horses need a good rest. And we do as well.”
“I don’t.” The words were barely distinguishable between the blows of wind.
“You are an ox in the saddle. You’d carry a horse on your back if it gave up from exhaustion. But the boy will freeze to death if we don’t make a stop.”
“I-I-I’m f-fine… W-will g-go with m-my s-ser…”
The man turned to the smallest riders.
“Repeat it again, lad. I didn’t hear anything but the clattering of your teeth.”
“I-I…” The boy started again but was interrupted by a voice, hoarse from long disuse.
“We will stop at the first inn on the way.”
It took them almost an hour to encounter the bent wooden sign, pointing in the direction of some inn, located a bit aside from the main road, in a valley protected from each side by winding hills and mountains. They were frozen to their saddles when the wooden building lit by the orange glow coming from the small windows appeared in sight.
Soon, the four of them sat in a warm room of the tavern, with bowls filled with a hot stew of unidentified ingredients and mugs of watered ale.
They ate and drank in silence until the wooden spoons scraped the bottoms of bowls and the wide yawns burst from their mouths. Without attracting the other guests' attention, they quickly retired to the rented room upstairs.
*
Jaime Lannister turned on the other side, releasing a deep sigh meant to convince anyone who could have been listening of his deep and undisturbed sleep, which has been escaping him since they set for a road to Vale.
He still wasn’t sure what in Seven Hells compelled him to do that. Had he known he would be freezing his arse off while enduring the Wench’s silent scowl and Hunt’s tiresome complaints, he would have taken off the moment the ugly maid was good enough to walk on her own. There was no need to stay with her any longer, especially since she made it known she didn’t want to see him anymore.
For the whole stay on Quiet Isle, she avoided him, barely talked to him and ignored him like he wasn’t that one person who kept vigil beside her bed, day and night, when she thrashed and wiggled, overtaken by fever. Even Kyle fucking Cunt got more attention from her and he never passed the opportunity to rub that fact in Jaime’s face.
Yet, when the time to leave came, Jaime rode with her.
“Do you want me to break another oath I so eagerly took?” he said then, taking great delight in Brienne’s scarlet blush going down the whole way from her forehead to the thick column of her neck and Cunt’s sour expression of displeasure.
His chance for Tarth has escaped just under his nose, Jaime barely managed to suppress a little chuckle when he heard a creak of bed and silent steps through the room. Not giving away his alertness, Jaime listened more closely but he could only hear the quiet snoring coming from the next room occupied by Pod and annoying hedge knight and the sound of rustling clothes in the corner of his room shared with Brienne.
She’s leaving. The thought ran cold in his veins as she silently closed the door behind. Stubborn Wench, did she grow tired of their company and decide to go on her own? Without wasting more time, Jaime got up from his hard, narrow bed and hurried to put on his boots and cloak, still wet from their journey. Making sure his sword was at his side, he left the tiny room.
The snow outside became heavier. Not the best time for a secret escape, Wench, Jaime examined the imprints of her big feet in the fresh soft layer covering everything around. They didn’t lead in the direction of the stables, the first wave of relief was replaced by a question. Where then?
He carefully followed her traces, placing his feet exactly where she had. They fitted perfectly as if he was the one making way through the snow. Jaime moved slowly, careful to not disrupt the trace. Luckily, he didn’t have to go long. Just behind the corner of the inn, he saw a tall figure, standing several steps further in the small clearing. Brienne.
She didn’t see him, her eyes were closed and her face turned to the sky. The moonlight, peeking shyly through the dark curtains of clouds, illuminated gently her broad freckled face and fair almost white hair as the big feather snowflakes swirled and danced, creating a delicate veil around her. Mesmerising, he found himself unable to look away. In this light she could almost be…
Jaime’s breath caught in his chest. He has never seen her like this before. Not a scowling wench dragging him in chains through Riverlands, not a distrustful lady questioning his every word and intention, not a disillusioned woman broken by the weight of oath he put on her shoulders.
Brienne… The tiny smile on her homely face lit her astonishing eyes, fuelling that inexplicable spark that was tormenting and needling him worryingly close to his heart since he found out she was ready to give her life for his. No, sooner. When she found him in his camp, injured and miserable, and he scrambled to his feet to follow her to the trap she was leading him. No. It was already there when he sent her to fulfil their oath and when he prayed to Father to give her strength in doing it. What a fool her was to not knowing it sooner.
Brienne…
She opened her eyes and raised her hands close to her face, allowing the snowflakes to land on the flat open insides of her palms.
“So beautiful…” The light wind carried a silent word that fell from her lips tugged by a shy smile that grew wider as she took a step forward and made a graceful turn worthy of the most elegant dance floors rather than the backyard of some obscure inn in the middle of forgotten lands. Her eyes landed on him and she froze. Her smile disappeared faster than a puff of smoke, replaced with the most horrified expression on her pale face.
The snow creaked under his boots as Jaime found himself moving closer, involuntarily, pulled by some strange force like a moth to the light.
“Jai- S-ser… What are you doing here?”
“I could have asked you the same.” Jaime stood in front of her. Still being two inches taller than him, Brienne somehow seemed smaller and so fragile.
“I couldn’t sleep.” She looked down like she was guilty of some unspeakable crime. “It’s just… You know, there was never snow on Tarth and I only… I know you think I'm foolish, you always say so but I just…”
Brienne didn’t finish, too embarrassed to speak further, ready to flee and never look at him again.
“I don’t think that.” Jaime wanted to kick his past self, or better slap himself with his own heavy golden hand, for saying all the things that he hadn’t thought anymore for a long time. The things that must have hurt her gentle maiden heart. “Don’t listen to the words coming out of my mouth.”
Brienne shook her head.
“I know you speak the truth, Ser.”
“Do you? And if I said I want to dance with you right now?” He blurted without hesitation.
The hurt shone in her big blue eyes.
“Don’t mock me. Just forget what you saw.”
What if I don’t want to? What if I want to see that smile again on your face instead of a scowl? What if I want to have you in my arms?
“I’m not mocking you, Brienne.” He took her right hand in his left while his empty wrist found its way to her waist, bringing her so close that their chest almost touched. Her body tensed under his touch but she did not flinch away.
He looked her in the eyes. “May I have this dance, my lady?”
Jaime felt her quickened breath on his cheek. Brienne gaped at him in disbelief as if she was questioning his sanity after this ridiculous request.
“But the music is not playing, Ser,” she whispered and Jaime couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory of their glorious fight.
“Let’s see if I can help it.”
Then he started to sing, his voice low and quiet, meant only for her to hear.
I loved a maid as fair as summer
with sunlight in her hair.
The melody was sweet and slow. The fluffy snowflakes danced around them, gracefully falling down and flying up on the wings of the wind, swirling and twisting, shining in the moonlight like diamonds. Jaime didn’t even notice when they started to sway together to the rhythm, not caring for the proper sequence of steps they both were taught in childhood.
I loved a maid as red as autumn
with sunset on her face.
Jaime continued. The scarlet heat coming from Brienne’s face warmed his whole being.
I loved a maid as white as winter
with moonglow in her eyes.
Her beautiful eyes, so big and blue, shone in the darkness like the brightest stars, full of something did not dare to name.
I loved a maid…
His voice could no longer carry the words of the myrish song so he hummed quietly the melody as they danced under the moonlight, their bodies flushed with the closeness, with the feel of one another’s racing hearts.
They danced like it was the last thing they’d do in this world. Like there were no quests and no dangers, no unknown. Just them, bound together by fate, the oaths, the gods. Only now embracing it instead of fighting it or escaping.
I won’t let you go; Jaime stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, his right arm bringing her closer until her head rested on the nape of his neck.
The snow was still flying in the air, slowly covering their hair and shoulders when Brienne suddenly took a step away from him.
“These were not true lyrics, Jaime,” she said, not quite looking at him.
“They are true for me. But you didn’t hear the rest. I love a maid as shy…”
“Jaime, please, stop.”
“Is my voice not to your liking?” Jaime tried to keep his tone light, the possibility of her rejection tightening around his throat.
“I thought I shouldn’t listen to words coming out of your mouth.”
“Clever Wench. Let me show you then.”
He raised his hand and cupped her face. His thumb gently caressed her ruined cheek as Jaime leaned in and captured her lips. Brienne gasped but to his immense relief, she didn’t step back. Encouraged, Jaime kissed her more. It was just a kiss, gentle and chaste, but his heart was nearly escaping his chest. The feel of Brienne’s lips, chapped from the cold, ignited something else in his chest. The fire, the need, the raw emotion he had never felt so distinctly before. I‘m dreaming, he slightly opened his eyes to take a look at her broad face, to make sure it wasn’t his imagination, that he didn't freeze to death and it wasn't just the last hallucination of a dying man before the darkness takes him. No. It was his Brienne. With her freckles, broken nose and ugly scar.
It was light.
It was good.
It was right.
She slowly parted her lips, timid and uncertain as ever, inviting him to deepen the kiss. And Jaime did. He pulled her in, closer than ever, and claimed her mouth with renewed passion. His tongue slipped inside to meet hers and Brienne let out a moan that nearly caused his knees to give in. But she was there, tall and strong. Her hands came to wrap around his neck and her fingers found the way to curl in his hair, sending the jolts of pleasure through his body.
They kissed until there was no air, they kissed until there was no thought left in their mind. Only them, captivated in a kiss.
“Do you believe me now?” Jaime asked when they stopped to catch a breath, their foreheads meeting together.
Brienne nodded slightly, still panting and shaken, unable to find her voice. But that was enough for him right now. The time for words will come later as for now the expressive gaze of her astonishing eyes and the strong arms wrapped around his neck told him everything he yearned so much to know.
“Let’s return to our room. I feel your hands becoming less inviting than blocks of ice.” He laughed when she tried to quickly remove them but he held her strong in his embrace. “Don’t be so skittish, love. I’ll keep you nice and warm while you sleep.”
*
They didn’t get much sleep after all. Upon returning to their room and removing the cloaks soaked from the melted snow, they both slipped under the furs of her bed. All the exhaustion from the road was instantly forgotten the moment their lips met again and three cold hands started the exploration of gentle touches and timid caress until there was no cold anymore. Only the warmth of their bodies, heated by the intensity of feelings burning inside their hearts.
*
They got down to the common room much later than their original plan intended. Their companions, already prepared to continue the journey, greeted them with wide-open eyes and a snide remark to which the only response was a deep blush on one face and a wide smile on another.