Summer

'Who taught you these things?'

'Who neglected to teach you?' Brienne replied.

'We Lannisters don't do things, we have things done for us.'

'Ah, I see - forgive my ignorance.'

Jaime gave an elaborate wave with his hand, 'You are forgiven,' he said with good humored pomposity. She shook it off with a smile.

He swiped a stalk from the long grasses and placed it between his teeth at a jaunty angle, then let his fingers brush over the remaining tall stems that bowed in the breeze.

'My father taught me most everything I know,' Brienne said, mirroring his footsteps as he cut a swathe through the field. Her eyes alternated between the path ahead and scanning the horizon for men on horseback.

'Like the twenty pace thing?' he asked.

'Jaime, everyone knows the twenty pace thing. Didn't you ever drink from a stream when you were a child? Or out hunting?'

'If I wanted a drink, someone brought it to me. It would be wine or beer - definitely not river water.'

'Ah yes, I momentarily forgot I was talking to a Lannister. How silly of me.'

'So my lady is telling me she never had servants who did things for her?'

'Of course that's not what I am saying. But my father's men would school me in other things, not just swordsmanship.' She shook her head knowing how he would take that, 'Oh, that came out all wrong...' she sighed.

He laughed at her discomfort, 'I'll bet they did. Well, tried anyway. How many bones did you break of the first one who was brave enough to try?'

She said nothing for a moment, then quietly she replied, 'A shin. In two places.'

He laughed delightedly, 'Such a warrior for a Maiden of Tarth!'

She ignored his teasing. She was proud of standing up for herself that time, because word got around and after that her father's men never bothered her again. In fact, she suspected most of them forgot she was a woman at all...

Jaime stopped and turned to face her, a lopsided grin lighting up his face. He removed the grass stalk from his lips.

'You're the one who should have a lion as your sigil, not me. Well, some type of cat anyway - yes definitely. Alluring but dangerous.'

He tapped her on the nose with the grass, then kept on walking. She felt equally patronized and flirted with. Alluring but dangerous. Why did he always know the very thing to say that would make her the most uncomfortable?

She blushed heavily and was grateful he walked on ahead, treading down grasses and disturbing the pipits from their rest.

She changed the subject, 'How have you survived this long? A simple village child would know that you walk twenty paces back before drinking from a river to check the water. '

'I am many things, Brienne, but I doubt anyone would call me simple -'

'I am saying you are worse than simple, actually,' she corrected. 'If you'd walked even four paces back, you'd have seen the dead sheep...'

'Yes, yes -'

'- and the maggots.'

'I suppose I would.'

'All I am saying, is that you'll need more than your father's name to survive in this world.'

He stopped in the midst of the fallow field. Grasses now tall as his waist disguised low growing wildflowers and bright butterflies that darted away to avoid the coming footsteps. The sun was warm on their skin, meadow birds dipped and darted through the air. Above them an azure sky was pregnant with white, fluffy clouds. It was a perfect Westeros summer's day.

'Let us rest here a while,' he said. 'We should eat something while the sun is passing overhead.'

'No, let's carry on to that line of trees up ahead. We won't make any more progress today, there's going to be a storm. We may as well make camp.'

'A storm? Woman, you're out of your mind. It's a glorious day!'

'Fine,' she overtook him, 'you stay here and enjoy it if it pleases you. I am going to wait for you under those trees, while the Lannister instructs the weather on how he wants it to behave.'

He ran underneath the low branches of the horse chestnut where she'd made a frugal campfire. As the kindling broke down it sent a shower of ember sparks into the bows above them.

He shook the worst of the rain out his hair, then ran his hand through it, sweeping loose, dripping strands back from his forehead.

'Bracing!' he said.

She tried very hard not to laugh, 'Come and dry out by the fire.'

He walked towards her and she offered him a manchet of bread and the last of the pork and egg pie she'd saved. He refused the rations and sat down awkwardly, pulling his legs up and throwing his unbandaged arm around them.

'You eat it,' he told her, 'you need the strength.'

'Jaime, we both do. You've lost a lot of blood too.'

She offered it again - hand held out above the fire. He knew she would stubbornly keep it there until her flesh burned, so he took the food from her gratefully.

'You should take your clothes off, you'll warm up quicker,' she said.

'Any excuse to see me naked,' he insisted, mouth full of pie.

'I've seen better.'

He narrowed his eyes and swallowed, 'Have you now?'

The way he said it sounded like genuine curiosity. The thought that he was assessing exactly who she'd seen naked and how much she had liked it, made her blush again.

She knew he enjoyed her discomfort, so she tried not to let it show. Instead, she leaned forward and stoked the fire, causing more sparks to rise into the tree's leafy canopy. Her nervous activity revealed more than it hid. He registered all of it and did not spare her from her blushes, instead gauging her reaction and revelling in it.

Eventually - in his own time - he changed the conversation, 'This fire is so small, it won't dry a single thing.'

'We have enemies, Jaime. We need to remain unseen. I'm not putting any more wood on this fire. Besides, if you trust me and take off your shirts and hang them on the branch up there, they will dry out quick enough.'

'Alright. If you demand to have me half naked and shivering, who am I to disappoint?'

She reached into the pack she'd carried since their last stop, and pulled out a small, coarse blanket, and tossed it to him.

'Here.'

He smirked, then got to his feet carefully. He let his heavy belt drop to the floor, then struggled to undo the ties at the neck of his tunic with one hand. After a minute or two of watching him blow damp strands of hair out of his eyes as he failed to untie the knot, Brienne got to her feet and went over to him. He watched her face as she took over negotiating the damp leather.

'Are you all right?' he asked, serious for once.

They'd spent the last two days putting as much distance between them and Locke, Bolton and all of their men as possible. But they'd not spoken of what happened.

She didn't answer. He put his hand on top of her own, 'Brienne, look at me. You know what I ask you... Are you hurt?'

She shook him off, and continued to wrench at the knot. 'Maybe I should cut it,' she said, 'I'll fetch my knife.'

'Brienne, answer me.'

'I'll just get my -' she turned away, but he grabbed her hand. Outside the sky boomed with furious thunder followed by a crack of lightening. The rain began to pour more ferociously.

'We should get out from under this tree,' she said, 'Lightening will be drawn here. It could be more dangerous for us to remain -'

He pulled her towards him with firm insistence and wove his fingers into hers. When he spoke she could feel his breath on her cheek, but she would not turn to face him.

'Did those men hurt you?'

'The bear -'

'I'm not talking about the bear.'

Hot tears welled in her eyes even though she did not want them.

'Jaime, let me go. They didn't touch me. Not like that.'

She tugged at his hand, but he wouldn't her let go, eventually her head fell forwards and she stopped fighting. Instead she turned and looked him straight in the eye. He wanted answers - she wasn't sure she wanted to give them.

'They spat at me, called me names. Beat me a little. When they grew tired of that, they put that wooden sword in my hands and tossed me into the bear pit. The rest you know.'

He looked at her, narrowed his eyes. He didn't believe her.

She couldn't hold his unrelenting gaze any more, so looked out at the sky.

'Even the worst thunderstorms pass eventually,' she said. 'If you wait long enough, sunshine always returns.'

He still had hold of her hand, and he stroked her skin with his thumb. His chest rose and fell violently as though all the things he wanted to say were trapped there. He didn't know which emotion to feel first; rage, pity, love... She pulled her hand away from his and continued to work the knot at his throat.

'Brienne, I won't leave you again. Not ever. I want you to know that,' he said.

'Here's one of my father's lessons for you, Jaime; don't make promises you can't keep.'

'I mean it.'

'It is not your constancy I doubt, it's circumstance. I've learned not to trust that...'

She freed the knot.

'Here, I've done it. Let me help you take this off.'

'I can do it!' he growled.

She stepped back, stung by his sudden sharpness. He twisted and turned as he pulled the wet tunic and undershirt together over his head despite his bandaged arm.

Underneath, his muscular body looked dirty, lean and pale. The bear had left it's marks on him, as had other battles. She looked away, went back to her side of the fire. He threw the shirts over the branch she'd suggested then pulled off his boots too. He placed them by the fireside, then moved to where she sat, picking up the blanket she had given him as he went.

They sat, legs and arms touching, cocooned in the warmth of the fire. She helped him pull the blanket around his shoulders, and this time he let her. When she settled, he surprised her by putting his arm around her and encasing her in the warmth of his body beneath the blanket. She grew tense but he reassured her with simple words, 'Get some rest. I'll take first watch.'

She had little choice but to nestle against his shoulder, and soon the drip drip drip of the rain through the leaves and the crackling of the fire made her eyelids droop closed of their own accord until eventually there was naught but darkness.