Bare

Keep your head down. Keep moving. Take my hand over the stile. Watch your step on the river bed. No, don't look back. Don't ever look back.

In the tavern she drank all of the beer he put in her hands without stopping. Wiping the foam from her mouth with the back of a shaking hand she realized she'd drunk it all and he had none. A cheap brooch only bought them so much.

'Come,' he said. She didn't ask him any questions - he'd earned that.

He took her hand in his and lead her down dark, rickety stairs to a cellar, where barrels and fungi bred insistently in the damp.

'We can stay here for a while - if we're quiet,' he said.

He sat her down on an upturned barrel and stood in front of her, 'Let me see that wound.'

The claw marks at her throat were deep and blood had poured over her pale skin and crusted in the mockery of fur that once had been a feature of her hideous dress.

She pulled away when he reached for her chin.

'Brienne -' he scalded.

'I'm fine.'

His frown deepened. The new collection of scars on his face were the only things she could see clearly in the gloom.

'You're angry at me,' he said, then reeled away laughing. 'I can't believe you're angry at me!'

'You shouldn't have come back, Jaime. They'll hunt you and kill you for sure.'

'What was I supposed to do? Leave you there? Did you want to be bear bait?'

'I'm not afraid to die.'

He sucked his teeth disapprovingly. Stalemate.

She shut her eyes tight, dropped her head. He used the opportunity and took a sneaky step towards her and lifted the chin she didn't want him to touch. His eyes solemnly passed over her wound, then met her eyes - she felt that lurch in her stomach she always felt when Jaime Lannister looked at her.

Inspection over he let her go. He became suddenly full of rage, like the tides of her homelands as they ripped the rocks from the cliffs. He looked as though he wanted to have his other hand back just so he could tear each of the claws from that bear's body.

He controlled his futile temper and strode off instead into the inkiest corner of the cellar, until she lost sight of him.

She looked down at the rags of shoes. The thin leather was worn through already and her feet were blistered and raw. Nothing about women's clothes was any use. Nothing about being a woman was any use.

She looked up when she heard the sound of water being splashed. Somewhere in the dark he'd found a place to wash.

The reality of what had passed began to dawn on her. She'd nearly died - no, she would have died if Jaime hadn't come back for her.

Suddenly she was wracked with spasms almost as strong as those of the visionary her father let her visit as a child. That man had told her she would marry someone rich and handsome - her father had hurried her away as onlookers laughed. The memory speared her like a punch to the gut.

Hands outreached, she felt her way to a stack of barrels and negotiated her way around them finding Jaime - naked and sodden - an open barrel of water in front of him. His body was a shock of white in the gloom. He tossed the cold water over himself with his single hand and scrubbed away at the dirt.

Looking at him, she couldn't remember a time before she defined herself by how much she loved him. She owed him so many words, but she was struck dumb.

He sensed her presence - turned to face her. They looked at each other; faces running the full gambit of emotions. Within three steps of he'd closed the gap between them.

She buckled into his arms like poorly forged steel. He was the only man she'd known who took both the weight of her body and mind with equal dignity.

Neither of them consciously made a decision to remove her hateful dress. Afterwards all she remembered was both their hands ripping at it, tearing that dirty pink insult off her skin as fast at they could and stamping it to the ground. He lay her down on the remnants, and climbed over her bruised and battered body.

He filled her. Moved inside her. She felt like she was coming up for air. Sapphire waters sparkled all around her as swallows dipped and soared and played and told her summer was here. Summer was here. In the water she was elegant, her long limbs beautiful. Womanly.

His mouth covered hers like he needed to consume her. They gulped at each other's lips sloppily, a meal to each another. He struggled to take his own weight with only one hand and she deftly turned him over. His eyes opened wide as she lay her length against him, small breasts pressed against his chest. He lay his good hand on the curve of her behind, and stroked her gently. He wanted her to know tenderness.

Her heat and desire rose and fell like the air that rushed to his lungs. Both their heads were filled with this moment.

'I need you,' he sighed into her lips.

She rocked her hips hard against him, riding him with the full urgency of her desire. She held nothing back and when her moment came, he felt the most intense pleasure as she bucked, writhed and cried out, losing herself completely. Her body wept upon him. He roared into orgasm moments later, juddering into her as she placed her hands upon his chest.

She collapsed along the length of his body with him still inside her. He held her awkwardly, his good hand thrust into her dirty hair. He kissed what his lips fell upon, and cradled her to his cheek as they both waited for their breath.

Eventually they separated and got to their feet. Still flush with exertion he placed his hand on her right hip and drew her in towards him, 'I wanted to wrap you in silk sheets.'

It was an apology. Their coupling had been in a reeking cellar to the sound of the rats scratching in the walls.

'You just have,' she reassured him. He looked at her; she was neither shy, nor confident - just her.

'You amaze me,' he said. He nuzzled at her neck, carefully avoiding her wound. 'How did you become everything to me? I can't breathe when you're not with me.'

'It's the same for me.'

He enveloped her into his arms, 'Whatever road lies ahead, Brienne, I want you to know, you mean the world to me.'