"Are you happy here, Ser Jaime?" Lady Sansa asked, some mornings after Queen Daenerys and the Northern Armies had left for Dragonstone and King's Landing.
Jamie had come to see if she had any tasks for him. He had agreed to do this when receiving permission to stay at Winterfell. It was becoming a heavier price than he had anticipated. Usually he worked with the master at arms to train the new men for the castle guard or accompanied Brienne about some business for Lady Sansa, but only trivial things. A few times she had trotted him out to the countryside to deal with a cow or a barn or some other smallfolk drudgery. The people had always irritated him.
But he was content, nevertheless, so he made his face a polite smile and answered her question. "Of course, Lady Sansa. Our Houses haven't always been friends, but you and I do not have to follow worn paths. You were once my sister by marriage. The winter has come. We must see to the needs of the people going forward," he said with bow.
"We are agreed," she said, smiling at him. "Which is why you will be touring Winter town today, checking on the smallfolk with the maester, and to make plans for cleaning up after the armies. You are one of the heroes of the battle of Winterfell, the people will appreciate your interest. The Great Houses united in peace sets the right tone, especially with what will soon happen in the capital."
"I thank you, for the confidence. I shall be the hero the people expect," he replied.
She brushed her hair back off of her shoulders. "Perhaps I should apologize, Ser Jaime. When you first asked for harbor here at Winterfell, I doubted your intentions towards my house and my people. However, you have been honorable in your actions since you've been here. Brienne had confidence in you, vouched for you. She doesn't give her love or loyalty lightly." She sighed before she said, "In quiet moments I worry I take advantage of her goodness and loyalty. I owe her my life. So I do my best to honor her struggles as a female soldier, and now knight, here in Westeros."
Sansa's eyes gave the illusion of sadness, but they really weren't, Jaime noticed. "I also owe her my life, Lady Sansa," Jaime replied. The young woman had spent too much time with Tyrion and Cersei both. He hoped she had their better parts. Either way, the truth was safest. "She was my will to live, when I thought my life was worthless. Hers is the faithful council that never waivers from what is right. Her actions are sometimes stupidly brave but always admirable," he said. Then he looked the shrewd young woman in the eye. "Knighting Ser Brienne was the honor of my life," he said, putting a slight emphasis on the first word.
She blushed a little and seemed genuinely surprised at his words before she replied, "Well said, Ser. Well said."
"If you'll excuse me, my lady, I should meet with the Maester to see about our ride to winter town."
"Very good."
Jaime rested his hand on the hilt of Widow's Wail as he walked out the door. Today he hated the North. They always made you earn it.
***
"Stop, just stop," Brienne said, as she tried to catch her breath. "I can't take it anymore."
"What, have I worn you out?" Jaime said, his chest heaving.
Brienne shook her head. "I am not tired, ser. But your grip is making my wrist hurt. And the thumb," she said. "Watch the thumb."
He scowled at her and fixed his grip. "There, are you happy now?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "That's better. Now maybe I'll be able to feel it when you hit me," she said, unable to stop herself from smiling.
Jamie tapped the flat of the practice blade against his leg. It was something he did when he was particularly provoked by her. "You try it left handed, ser. I've only been at this a few years, compared to the thirty-odd before it."
He was deliciously irritated with her. It was the best part of her day, their sparring. She turned her back to him, blushing. Maybe the second best part of her day. She switched her sword to her left hand. "Alright then, Jaime. Let's get to it."
They began to spar. Forwards, backwards, parry - thrust. They ranged the yard, circling, clashing, repositioning, attacking again. They went at this for half an hour before they finally came to a draw and broke off, laughing. Single combat on a field of war seldom lasted that long.
The clapping of the Stark men surprised her. "Ser Brienne of Tarth," the Stark master of arms said, "And Ser Jaime Lannister. That was some of the best sword play I've seen, given its with your off-hands. Too bad neither of you wanted to win. We should put it in the training though. Never know when an injury will come."
Jaime squinted at her, brushing his hair from his eyes. "She beat me. I yield knowing you'll like seeing a Lannister bested."
"No, Ser," the older man said. "Battle makes strange bedfellows. You shed blood with us when you need not and you've stayed under our Lady's protection, estranged from your House. You've done good here, since the army left. You're a smug bastard, sure, but you're not lazy. Not a man left in Winterfell wouldn't fight beside you, nor Ser Brienne neither. The North Remembers doesn't mean jus' the bad, Ser Jaime," the older man said. "Do not waste your chance."
Brienne could see Jaime, for once, had no words. No matter how many times he was offered absolution, he seemed unable to accept it's grace. She answered for him. "Thank you, ser. We both appreciate your compliment and your welcome."
The master nodded, then he and the others left to go about other business. Brienne chanced a glance at Jaime. He seemed ready enough. "Come now, ser, I believe we made a wager, and you've just yielded," she said.
"Go again?" he asked. "I'll double our agreement. And let's use real blades this time. I'd like to feel that edge of panic."
She took it back. This was the best part of her day.
***
In the hall after the evening meal, Jaime kissed Brienne on the cheek and went to take his usual wander on the wall walk. "Would you like to come with me?" he asked politely.
She brushed the hair out of his eyes. "No, you go ahead. I wanted to go to the library and then just return to our room."
"Don't fall asleep?" he said as he stepped away. "I owe you double." She felt herself blush and he grinned wider.
She talked with the others at the table, finishing her wine. Then she did go back to their room. She went with him only once, the night after the army left. He had not said a word during their tour, and at the front of the keep he stopped and looked to the south. She knew what it meant. He was looking at home. She understood, but didn't want to watch.
So these many nights, usually just after dark or a little later, they parted for a short while. Brienne would use the time to think about their travels, about that Jaime and this Jaime. This Jaime that had left his Queen and love and nearly walked into his own execution because she had upbraided him about his duty to the living. This Jaime that asked to fight at her side, who charged his way into her bed, probably with as little serious thought as when he'd ridden into Winterfell alone. This sincere and committed Jaime, her friend, the only man other than her father that she gave a damn about. She usually didn't go much farther than that, with her thoughts. It wasn't wise. Instead she thought about waking and finding him gone, of the space at her back that would go unguarded, of the lure of the South. One could never have enough practice, defending one's self.
She thought of these things as she went about her evening habits until she heard his step in the hall. She thought about none of these things the moment he was again in her arms and inside her body.
***
Jaime stalked across the courtyard, generally bothered by yet another day among the smallfolk in winter town, no matter how gracious they had been to him. In fact, it made him feel worse, the grudging respect the whole of the North seemed to show him these days. Eddard had been a pillar of honor. Robb had bested him at tactics. Jon Snow, a bastard of the North, was a prodigy at leadership and inspiring allegiance. He could have no confidence in the earnest acceptance they gave the kingslayer from the South. It felt like they were mocking him.
Then he saw the maester walking away from Lady Sansa and Ser Brienne. Sansa was reading a raven scroll. As she read it she started to walk into a more private courtyard, Brienne at her heel. Jaime followed, needing to know what it said. It was too early for them to have made a move on King's Landing. He followed them, his cape billowing in his wake.
Lady Sansa's gaze waited for him, even as she spoke in a low voice with Brienne. He couldn't quite make out what she said, but also didn't try. He would be told what he needed to know. Sansa would make sure of it. "What happened?" he asked.
He looked between Sansa and Brienne, who was expressionless. His chest wobbled. He didn't like Brienne feeling - that. Sansa nodded to Brienne. She straightened to give the news, brows furrowed.
"Euron Greyjoy ambushed Queen Daenerys and her fleet. One of the dragons was killed, several ships destroyed, Missandei captured," Brienne said. In his head, Jaime heard it, the song that had woken him out of his sleep most nights.
Brienne wouldn't look at him.
Lady Sansa gave a small smile, a hitch of her cheek really. "I always wanted to be there when they execute your sister. Now I guess I won't get the chance," she said to him. Then she turned and walked away.
