The four sat in the Great Hall of Winterfell, celebrating being alive with the rest of the castle, and playing a drinking game. The hall was warm from fire, bodies, and candles, and everyone, excepting a few singular souls, seemed to be having a wonderful time, Tyrion, Jaime, Podrick, and Brienne included.
"You've had sex with a whore," Tyrion said, looking his brother right in the eyes and laughing knowingly.
"My dear brother, you know I have not. I leave that distinction to you," Jaime answered.
"No, not a whore," Tyrion said, drinking his cup down. "But whenever you had sex, I'm sure it came with a price."
Jaime drank, not answering, just looking a little drunk and bemused by his brother's characteristic impudence. Then he looked at Podrick, "And what about you, Pod? I bet you've never slept with a whore."
"Actually, I have," the young man said. "Lost my virginity to one or two down in King's Landing." He raised his cup to Tyrion, who matched it.
"You drink up, brother. Young Podrick here was quite the legend at Baelish's brothel. Whatever he did, he did it so well the whores paid him," Tyrion said with a wag of his eyebrows.
"Is that even possible?" Jaime asked.
Brienne frowned at Podrick. "Really? I'd have thought better of you, at least, Podrick."
"Yes, Ser. But I was Lord Tyrion's squire, at the time. And the whores didn't pay me. They just didn't take payment," Pod clarified earnestly.
The table burst into laughter at that, even Brienne.
Jaime raised his cup, "I give you Podrick Payne, Hero of the Whores!"
"Ladykiller of the Landing!" Tyrion called, pounding the table. Brienne raised a cup in spite of her blush as she and Jaime stomped their feet.
After a moment, Brienne guffawed at a thought, then hissed, "Squire of Sex!" in a loud whisper. This set the table off into wild laughter, both at the thought and at the rosy pink blush that had come to Brienne's cheeks at even daring to join in on taking the piss out of the men as an equal and friend.
When they calmed down, Tyrion nodded to Brienne over his cup. "Careful, or we'll have to start calling you Ser Brienne of Tart."
"Never!" Jaime said with an inebriated grin. "It's the Sapphire Island because all the men have blue balls!"
Brienne frowned at Jaime, her scowl making Pod suck in a breath and Tyrion give a drunken titter. Then her face formed itself into a determined glower, and she said, "Maybe the blue balls were just for you, Kingslayer?"
Jaime's face fell, and Tyrion gave a great belly laugh such as he hadn't had cause to let out since Robert Baratheon's fat ass sat on the Iron Throne. Pod patted her on the back once she broke into a wide grin, and even Jaime raised a sheepish cup to her.
She stood, smirking in triumph and said, slamming her drink down on the table, "I have to piss!"
Tormund Giantsbane, who had been waiting for his moment, stepped up to her saying, "We did it! We faced those icy fucks, looked right in their blue eyes and here we are," he took a deep breath and let his lusty gaze look Brienne up and down. Then he said, "Pray I don't find out which one of you cowards shit in my pants!" His serious face turning into a mad laugh.
Brienne's earlier bravado shrunk a bit at Tormund's scatological humor. "Please pardon me, for a moment," she said with just a touch of disdain, and moved around his large bulk.
Tormund blinked in surprise, and wobbled in his cups before he made a move to follow her, only to find his way blocked by a standing Jaime Lannister.
The two men looked at each other, Jaime giving a small shake of his head and patting Tormund on the shoulder before turning and walking off after the tall blond knight.
Tormund's face fell, and he stumbled away from the table, undoubtedly to drown his sorrows.
Brienne had observed the interaction over her shoulder, but when she saw Jaime turn, she startled as if by a lion's roar, walking away quickly until she was safe behind her own bedroom door.
She went about her business, afterwards finding that someone or other of the remaining servants had also left a full wash tub near the fireplace, and a kettle on the coals. Before the preparations for the Long Night, a full wash tub waiting for her in her rooms had been a usual occurrence, a perk of being the personal guard of the Lady of Winterfell. It was a clue that life would begin again, fall back into some of the usual routines. Brienne took in a deep breath at the thought, after so much death.
As usual, all she had to do was tend the kettle and heat the bath. Her fire she'd seen to before she left for dinner, so the kettle would be hot. She laid her sword out on the table, cleaning tools to the side, then retrieved her sleeping shift from her things and mostly disrobed. She quickly cleaned her leather armoring clothes then checked the kettle. The tub was not large - just enough for her to sit in but not stretch out - she judged it to be hot enough for a quick bath. She poured the water from the kettle into the tub, warming it enough for a bath.
She didn't always like bathing. Not because she didn't like to be clean, but because she didn't like to be reminded of her body - not enough to be a man, too much to be a lady. This night it didn't bother her. She was a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, a survivor of the Long Night. That night, this night, and every night ever after, her body would make her proud. Still, she washed quickly, before the water or the air cooled.
She was already in her long, dark blue sleeping shift, hair drying, when she heard the knock at her door. A half smile flit across her face before she took better controlled of her features.
***
Jamie followed Brienne, but got lost in the labyrinth of halls that was the living quarters of Winterfell. Finally he gave up and asked a serving woman where Ser Brienne's rooms would be.
"Oh, ser, she's not 'ere in the guest quarters. She's a room in the family wing - Lady Sansa insisted when they first arrived," she said with a suspicious grin.
Jaime was, if not the Golden Lion, still a fine man. He gave her a flirtatious smile, hoping to sway her to his service. "Would you show me the way?" he asked politely.
"A' course, ser," she said, but then hesitated. "Wait a moment, if you please? I have to fetch something."
Jaime gave her a small bow. "Whenever you're ready."
In a moment she returned carrying two pewter cups and a covered pitcher. She shoved them into Jaime's half-capable grasp. "You'll be wantin' this, it's from Dorn." Then she waved him to follow her, unfurling the maze easily. She stopped at a junction, gesturing down the hall. "Her room's just up there, on the right. Now, be good, Lannister. Soft-hearted she is. Mus' be, to see what's good in you."
"Yes, ma'am," was all he could think to say. She left him standing there. What a place, the North. They really made you earn it.
He paled as he walked toward her room. At the door, he almost turned away. Maybe she would be sleeping - passed out from all the wine. He leaned against the doorway, trying to calm himself, but his hand seemed to move on it's own to knock at her door. Had he earned it?
***
She opened her door. Jaime's golden hand tucked two pewter cups against his chest, his good left hand carried a large pitcher of something. His expression - confused, vulnerable - the same as it had been when he'd lost his hand.
At the sight of her he collected himself to ask, "You - are you - are you truly the Maid of Tarth?"
"What?" she asked, taken aback. He walked past her into the room, now more himself, to set the pitcher down and then the cups. She closed the door, walked away from the chill and back to the fire.
Jaime didn't turn to look at her, instead he seemed to be staring at the bed across the room. He didn't turn around. Softly, slowly, he said, "Maid of Tarth - so - are you?"
She took in an exasperated breath at his teasing. "You know I am the Maid of Tarth, Kingslayer, don't be stupid." Battle was easier than a conversation with this man. She shuffled her feet. What did he want? What did she want? She broke the silence. "This isn't a game anymore, Jaime. This is just drinking."
He turned around casually and poured the wine, a tremor in his hand causing him to spill a little. "Good, because this is Dornish. Took forever to find it," he said as he handed her a cup. "This will be worth it."
Finally he looked at her. Again, he had that bare, anguished expression. He was about to say something when his eyes flit to the side. "Is that a bath?" he asked. "Even a lukewarm bath would be welcome up here."
Brienne looked down before she answered, shaking her head as if to wake herself up. "It is a bath, obviously. I've used the water, though."
He started forward, "It's not like we haven't shared bath water before."
That had, perhaps, been their most intimate moment, the moment he shared his deepest secret with her before falling naked into her arms, nearly dead.
Brienne gestured to the tub. "You may use the bath, but I'm not leaving my own room, Lannister."
"There's no need," he said, starting to unfasten his jacket, amused with his brassy friend. "We've seen each other naked before." He kicked off his boots, then began taking off his jerkin and other clothes. "You do keep it warm enough in here," he said distractedly.
"First thing I learned in the North: always keep the fire going," she said. Brienne started caring for her sword, but stopped to watch him battle with his clothes. The jerkin got caught on his hand, but a few tugs saw it slide over the golden appendage. Still, what grace he had was lost in the process. So to did the difficulty he had trying to untie his shirt collar one handed make the knight seem awkward. His struggles reminded her how he'd gotten the hand, and it made her cheeks burn with embarrassment for them both.
"Ugh, move aside," she said, untangling the knot and helping him pull his shirt up over his head, jerking his sleeve over the unmoving hand. She loosened his pants too, before he could object. Then she moved away, putting the little table between them and busying herself with her sword, Oathkeeper, the sword that should have been his, but was now hers, his gift to her. "Better get in the water. Another thing I learned in the North - never keep a bath waiting," she said without looking up from her task.
He turned his back to her and undressed, setting his hand down on the table before climbing into the bath. Once he was settled in he said, "The first and second things I learned when I came to the North was that I hated the North." He shifted in the water, keeping his right arm inside the tub. "Is there any more hot water?"
