Brienne spotted Jaime as he was marched across the yard to join the rest of the bedraggled criminals promised to the Night's Watch. Few people were around to see the end of an era: dawn had just broken and the rain fell heavily. The discomfort suited her. He stood head and shoulders over the men but he seemed so beaten that Brienne had to bite her lip until it bled not to cry out. Her heart broke further when he caught her eye. The green flashed and she knew it would be the last time she would ever see him.
His hand pushed under her briefs, finding the wet softness. She mirrored him, wrapping her long fingers around his hard cock. Mutual groans escaped their mouths. He was heavy lying on top of her, but she wanted more, bucking her hips wildly at his touches. Her need didn't go unnoticed, his exploring fingers sending her muscles clenching, her breath shortening. Their slick skin shone in the firelight, moaning and panting in their ecstasies: their passion deep and true. As he filled her, his hand went to her breasts and their mouths kissed fervently, their only thought for each other's pleasure.
In the middle of the crowd of cheering men was Jaime Lannister, the firm's most successful stockbroker. He sent a smug grin deliberately towards Brienne, one of the only women on the floor and second only to him in success. She rolled her eyes and concentrated back on her screens. He shouted out her nicknameas he approached. Wench.Stuck with it from her first day, she riled at the lack of political correctness and would have said something yet again had she not been distracted by his hand on her shoulder and the blush that inevitably covered her face.
Brienne hushed Jaime's protests. He was in no way capable of washing himself and she didn't mind. He hissed as the hot water stung the newest cuts on his body but she persevered and felt him relax under her touch. It was only when she reached to wash his face that she hesitated. His eyes opened and much to her surprise, gave her a look of such vulnerability that she reached out instinctively to hold his cheek in reassurance. She felt his lips move under her hand and it was a moment before she smiled shyly at his kiss.
His hiccoughs made Brienne laugh uproariously. Getting tipsy had not been her plan but Jaime had been generous with the drink and she was tired of always being on guard. It turned out that he made a hilarious drunk: open, self deprecating, even friendly. It was a nice change from the norm. They had shared a lot in the past, but not many laughs. She watched him stagger off for some more drink and giggled again. She lurched up to help but was met with a hug instead and a drunken but solemn declaration that she was his favourite friend.
Their marriage was a quiet affair in the sept on the Sapphire Isle, but all they could have wished for. Their love and respect for each other filled the room as the septon bound the houses of Lannister and Tarth together in perpetuity. When Jaime gently tied the ruby red cloak around Brienne's shoulders, he smiled at the shy way she dropped her gaze to his hands as they worked. She looked beautiful, her pale blue dress highlighted with pearls, her blonde hair long and simply plaited. They held hands and laughed as they walked out into the bright sunshine.
They looked down at the little bundle in Brienne's arms. Bright green eyes looked back at them fiercely, little fingers clutching onto her father's own long finger. Jaime leant down to kiss Brienne's red lips as they contemplated their daughter. He wanted to say how proud he felt, to be a proper and loving father and husband. Brienne caught his gaze. His face was soft and precious, his focus adoring. It was extraordinary that they had got this far. Death had been an almost constant in their past but now there was life. New life, full of love and light.
Jaime watched the life drain out of Brienne, those blue eyes pleading him to save her. He was on his knees, his useless left hand still holding his sword, drenched in blood but all for nothing. He hadn't been quick enough, strong enough, hard enough to stop the man who attacked her. And now she was dying in his arms. He didn't let himself look away. His lips pressed gently on her pale brow, as he cried out sorry over and over again. That it would end like this was terrible, agonising and unforgivable. He was lost now. A child.