Chapter Text
The meadow Jaime had spoken of earlier was a short stroll from the inn down a narrow goat-trod path. They walked hand in hand along the line of trees Brienne had ridden past the night before. The sparse leaves of maple, elm and ash trees rustled in the breeze. Jaime lifted some bushy laurel branches out of the way and they stooped to enter the clearing. The goat-cropped grass was dappled by sun shining through the foliage, and a few kiwi vines struggled to climb higher up the tree trunks so the goats couldn’t get their broad leaves but the sunlight could. A squirrel chittered at them from the spreading branches of an elm and leapt lightly from branch to branch before disappearing from sight, still complaining. This time of day the goats had been corralled for milking, so they had the meadow to themselves. Jaime pulled Brienne into a kiss, their heights similar enough that they stood nearly nose to nose. Jaime pulled away to look up into Brienne’s eyes, which had picked up the brilliant blue of the sky. He had seldom seen them this bright and untroubled, and he was glad to know she looked forward to going home to Tarth with him at her side.
Jaime led them to an old tree at the edge of the clearing and pulled Brienne down to sit with him; the trunk of the tree was wide enough that they could both rest their backs against it. Brienne picked a maple leaf off the ground and twirled its stem between her fingers to make it spin side to side.
“It was nice of you to ask the boy to squire,” Brienne said, “even though between the two of us we armor ourselves fine.”
“Young Rolf? You should have seen his expression when he saw me ride up in my armor," Jaime laughed, "and then when he found out the Maid of Tar – I mean, Lady Brienne of Tarth, was also expected I could tell he would be grateful for the chance to squire for an afternoon and watch us spar.”
“Did he remind you of Pod?” Brienne asked, a little catch in her voice.
“Only a little. This lad has a family that loves him and expects much of him. We may as well give him a bit of an adventure to remember; he won’t find it himself like Pod did.”
“No, he probably won’t. I hope you are keeping him safe and adventure-free these days? Did his voice ever come all the way back?”
Jaime laughed, “Poor Pod, the other squires call him ‘Toad’ now for how he croaks when he speaks.”
“Maybe his voice is just changing?”
“It’s already changed in this last year; now he has a deeper croak. The maesters say with time and care the rasp in his voice may get better. Apparently being hanged can do some long-term damage to your throat.” Jaime said. “Anyway, he likes being called ‘Toad.’ I think it makes him feel like he belongs.” He grinned, thinking of how much Pod had grown since Brienne had seen him. “Addam Marbrand keeps him busy. Takes him everywhere.”
“I’m glad,” Brienne said, “I knew sending him with you would be safest, but I couldn’t help worrying for him.”
“You always did mother the boy. He has a girlfriend now,” Jaime said with a grin, watching Brienne, “she’s taller than him.”
“No!” Brienne laughed, “But he is young for a girlfriend, isn’t he? They’re just friends, surely.”
“In their case, maybe.” Jaime allowed, leaning over to kiss Brienne.
Brienne blushed and tilted her head to look up into the leaves overhead, but a smile was tugging at her lips and she squeezed Jaime’s hand.
“Are you looking forward to sparring?” Jaime asked her. “How long has it been since you’ve gone against anything more active than a tree?”
“A long while.” Brienne admitted, “There were two times when I was set upon by brigands, but both times I dispatched them so quickly that I could hardly count it as practice.”
Jaime looked at her in consternation. “You were attacked?”
“As I just said.” Brienne told him with unconcern.
“How many were there?” Jaime asked, his eyes wide.
“Just two the first time, after dark fell one night. Then five the next time, in broad daylight, but one of the five was gutted by someone in his own band during the attack. I think he had been waiting for the chance to get rid of that one and worried I wasn't good enough to do it myself.” Brienne grinned wickedly, “They were quite wrong. The ravens would have been dining on five either way.”
Jaime chuckled uneasily. Even he might have been worried about five at once, since his maiming anyway.
“This looks like good sparring ground,” Brienne noted, “lots of open space, but a few tricky places, too. Did you plan to tell me about that big dip in the ground over there?” she asked pointing.
Jaime looked over to where she was pointing. “Oh, thanks for pointing that out.” He told her, “I hadn’t noticed.” They smiled at each other and Jaime was leaning in to kiss her again when they heard a rustling in the laurels that announced Rolf had come into the meadow, half-dragging their gear and tourney swords. Brienne and Jaime went to meet him.
Young Rolf turned out to be as much hindrance as help as the two armed up, but both were kind to him even as they surreptitiously re-did straps and adjusted plate behind him. Rolf had brought Jaime’s metal hand and Brienne helped Jaime to secure it before he put on his vambrace.
Brienne finished arming first and began to look at the swords. Rolf had neglected to bring her old tourney sword, but both of the blunted blades Jaime had brought with him to the inn were there. Brienne picked them up one at a time, testing for balance and weight. For tourney swords she found them surprisingly well-crafted. Jaime watched her swinging a sword experimentally. Brienne happened to glance over and see him watching her intently. She laughed at his serious expression.
“Do I get to choose my own, Ser?” she asked.
“You may, but I would say the last sword I gave you was a very good choice on my part.”
“Would you like to choose one for me now, then?” she asked.
“I think you have already chosen the one I would have picked for you.”
Brienne looked at him quizzically and shrugged. She picked up her oak shield and Rolf helped Jaime put his red and gold shield on his right arm. Both fighters donned their helms and Jaime picked up the remaining sword. They walked to the middle of the field, smiling in anticipation.
Jaime made the first move, swinging his sword overhand at Brienne’s head. She easily blocked it and parried with the edge of her blade as his return stroke swept down to her other side. Brienne stalked forward and Jaime fluidly moved back and to the side as they continued flailing at each other. They were moving easily, warming to the dance and the drumbeat of swords bashing against shields. They maneuvered back and forth with practiced grace as they became familiar with each other’s movements again, their feet always in motion in an intricate pattern of footwork unique to them.
Jenna and a couple of her other sons came to the meadow to stand at the edge with Rolf and watch them spar, but the fighters didn’t notice.
The battle gathered momentum and the sound of steel slithering against steel rang out across the meadow, sun glinting from the blunted metal as it flashed through the air. Jaime had improved even more at wielding a sword left-handed and Brienne found herself on the defensive against his increasingly fast blows. She rallied with quicker and harder sword strikes herself. Their eyes locked again and again, trying to read each other’s intentions. Brienne’s expressive blue eyes glinted with a feral joy as her sword flew through the air, ringing against shield, sword, armor; holding ground, giving a little, pushing back, trying to gain more ground.
Jaime’s eyes were intent and watchful, alive with the challenge. He began to press harder still, pushing Brienne across the meadow step by step, his shield pushing her back even as his sword swung around it to hack against her legs and her hips, clanging against her helm, drawing gasps of exertion or pain from her. With a burst of strength Brienne pushed Jaime back over the ground he had just gained from her, hooking the edge of his shield with her own and wrenching it down and away from his body as she slashed at his chest.
Jaime was grinning wildly as he fought and pushed back harder, battering her shield aside and almost throwing her off her feet under his furious attack. She was up before a knee could touch the ground, swinging her shield into his side even as her sword arced up to slash under his arm. He anticipated the blow and raised his shield high, setting the bottom lip of it over hers and yanking it down. He stepped in to swing at her undefended torso and she flung her shield down onto the grass, meeting his steel with her own as it came in to slash against her. She rammed her shoulder into his chest to drive him back and Jaime retreated just far enough to rid himself of his own shield. Brienne stalled her attack long enough to gasp for air and to let him pull his metal hand from the shield’s strap before she charged at him again. Jaime stepped around her charge to crack his sword against her back before she pivoted gracefully, their swords singing as they came together again and sparks flew off of them.
Jaime pushed his attack even harder and Brienne found herself being backed into the trees that ringed the meadow. He closed in, trying to wedge a knee between hers to knock her down again when the fan plate of his poleyn hooked with her knee armor and they both went down in a heap of tangled metal onto exposed tree roots and blackberry vines. They continued to grapple on the ground, rolling, both trying to get a sword clear enough to strike. Brienne scrambled to her knees first, one gauntleted hand braced on the ground to heave herself upright when Jaime coiled and launched himself at her, knocking her back into the trees as the breath whooshed out of her lungs. He tried to keep his footing as the momentum of his charge carried him past her. He was only down for a half a heartbeat before he was crouched with his blade poised to strike, only to find Brienne already springing at him with her sword sweeping toward his head. Jaime leaned back and the steel flashed past his face. Brienne reversed direction, bringing the sword back to land a hard blow to his elbow.
Jaime roared and leaped toward Brienne, sweeping his sword into the backs of her knees, drawing a yelp of pain as her legs buckled. Her sword didn’t waver as she fought him from the ground, blocking his fierce blows as she struggled to get back to her feet. She thrust her sword up and drove the blade against Jaime’s right arm where the hand was strapped to his stump. He groaned at the pain of steel against flesh, but did not give ground. Both were panting and grunting with exertion when Jaime stepped back to adjust his stance and Brienne seized the opening and rose to her feet again, favoring an ankle that had twisted when Jaime had felled her. Their blades came together again and their sword arms locked as they fought chest to chest in an intense embrace.
Brienne looked into Jaime’s eyes and saw that this was no game he was playing with her; he meant to win, no matter what. His grin was fearsome and leonine and seductive; Brienne’s heart stuttered in her chest and she managed to back away from him and bring her sword out in front of her. Both heaved for air for precious seconds before Jaime was attacking again. His back was to the trees as he tried to drive her back to the middle of the meadow, but each blow rang against Brienne’s steel as she caught the blows and flung them back at him. She would not give in now, could not, even if she had wanted to. Their fight had become a live thing; a question they both needed the answer to.
Brienne could imagine the swordsman Jaime must have been before he lost his hand. Few could stand against him now, and she could see the fierce pride in his eyes along with the determination to best her. Her shoulders ached with the strain of holding his sword at bay, and pain bloomed in a dozen places where his blade had gotten past her. She ducked under his defenses, battering herself against him, bruising him with hard blows, but her strikes were getting weaker with fatigue and his seemed to be getting harder. She stepped back to try to catch a breath, a tiny respite from his driving attack, but he followed, sweeping his foot against her ankles and felling her hard before he pivoted back, kicking her sword from her hand and flinging himself on top of her, straddling her as she lay on her back. He pushed at her helm with his metal hand, pushing the visor up until her face was exposed, his sword leveled so that the point was nearly touching her lips.
“Yield!” he growled. Both of them were trembling with exertion and emotion, and Brienne looked defiantly up at Jaime, her eyes narrowing at him. “YIELD!” he roared, and Brienne began to smile even as her eyes became bright with unshed tears.
“I yield.” She said softly, and Jaime let out the breath he had been holding and lowered his sword, staring down at her with just a hint of a smile.
Jenna and her sons had stood transfixed on the sidelines, amazed by the vicious battle the two had fought. Now, seeing Brienne laid out on the ground unmoving and Jaime trying to stand on shaky legs so he could get off of her, Jenna began to run onto the field, calling, “M’lady! Oh, by the Gods, Ser Jaime, is she okay?”
Jaime reached down with his left hand to help Brienne to her feet and she was already standing by the time Jenna panted up to them. Brienne looked at her distressed expression and smiled “Your pardon if we frightened you my lady,” Brienne said, not looking away from Jaime’s eyes, “I was just chastising my husband.”
Jaime guffawed, remembering what he had told the Bloody Mummers when they had caught them fighting so long ago. Brienne had nearly drowned him in a stream and was clearly getting the better of him: I was just chastising my wife, he had said.
Jenna was glad to see that Brienne was fine, but concern still etched her features as she watched them remove their helms. A trickle of blood ran down from Jaime’s hairline and Brienne was trying not to put weight on her ankle. Jaime turned to Jenna, his eyes shining in triumph and said, “Were you able to get your village septon to come, Jenna? I think we have need of one.” At Jenna’s affirmative nod he said, “Bring him out here, please, and would you be so good as to bring my red cloak as well?”
Jenna might have said something before she hurried off to take care of Jaime’s requests, but neither he nor Brienne heard it as their lips met in a fierce kiss that neither was willing to break for long moments.
Jenna had taken her sons with her when she had run back toward the inn, so between them Jaime and Brienne stripped off their own armor and Jaime’s metal hand. Both stood in the chilly afternoon air, their clothes drenched with sweat, their hair dripping with it.
“A septon, Jaime? Are we to marry right away then? My father –“
“Has already given his consent, Wench. He gave it to me a long time ago when I first asked him for your hand, and confirmed it again when I told him I might know where you were. Of course, that consent was dependent on me besting you in battle.” Jaime ran his hand over Brienne’s wet hair, “If it’s okay with you we’ll have another ceremony on Tarth, for your father’s sake, but I will not wait any longer to wed you. I have already waited much longer than I should have,” he leaned in to place the gentlest of kisses on her lips before gathering her into his arms. They were still holding each other when Jenna arrived with the Septon, her husband, and all five of her sons.
“He told me the more witnesses the better, Ser,” she told Jaime, nodding toward the elderly septon, “being that this is a bit irregular and all.”
Jaime nodded and thanked the septon for coming. The whole party walked to a patch of the meadow where the lowering sun still shone. The white haired septon stood facing the couple as the innkeep and his family ranged behind them. Jenna had thought to bring Brienne's blue cloak as well, and Brienne had gladly donned it to wear as her maiden cloak. No one need know the truth of that, and she truly did feel like a maiden about to marry her knight and true love. It felt like a dream, but even in dreams she thought, nothing as perfect as this could be imagined.
Jaime looked at Brienne beside him, her sweaty hair drying in the sun, her sky-blue eyes wide and shining with happiness. He was pleased that Jenna had brought Brienne's cloak. He hadn't wanted to ask her to wear it, but his heart swelled to see her in it, to know that she thought of him as her one and only, forever. Her maidenhead didn't matter, just so long as he had her heart. His own heart was thudding in his chest with such joy he thought it must be loud enough to hear across the seven kingdoms.
The portly innkeep was smiling widely as he held Jaime's red cloak at the ready, its richly worked borders showed Lannister lions picked out in gold. The septon cleared his throat to begin the ceremony. Jaime and Brienne were holding hands and faced each other as the septon said the words and prayers for the simple ceremony performed in most villages. Jaime and Brienne responded as needed, never looking away from one another. The time came for Jaime to bring her under the protection of his cloak, and the innkeep came forward to hand him the red cloak and to gently remove Brienne’s, in the absence of her father.
Jaime draped his cloak over her shoulders, positioning it with his left hand and stump, pausing to run his hand down her arm as he grinned at her.
“My dream!” Brienne breathed quietly, wonder in her voice. Jaime smirked at her and whispered, “Just figured that out, did you?” Brienne blushed a little, but grinned back.
The septon cleared his throat again, trying to re-gain their attention for the rest of the ceremony. “With this kiss… ” the septon prompted Brienne with a pointed look.
“Oh! With his kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband,” Brienne recited, her eyes dancing.
“With this kiss I pledge my love,” Jaime told her, leaning in close and murmuring against her lips “and take you for my lady and my wife,” and gave her a lingering kiss until the septon cleared his throat again, twice.
“Here in the sight of gods and men,” he proclaimed, “I do solemnly proclaim Ser Jaime of House Lannister and Brienne of House Tarth to be man and wife, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them.”
The innkeep and his family cheered and Brienne made a little leap at Jaime and flung her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her ribs and lifted her to spin her around in a circle. He led her back to the edge of the meadow with the rest of the party following. He stooped to lift up the sword Brienne had been using when they sparred. “My lady,” he handed it to her hilt first. She took it curiously. “The hilt,” Jaime told her. Brienne looked at the hilt and back up at Jaime questioningly, “look closely.”
Brienne examined the hilt and found the words etched in gold around the base “Lady Brienne of Lannister and Tarth,” and pursed her lips in amusement. “Pretty confident, were you?”
“I was,” he confirmed. “I’d have fought you until the end of time if I had to, but I’m glad we got this settled today, Wench."
“And tonight is my wedding night, my lord husband.” Brienne said solemnly, her eyes sultry. She let them wander over Jaime briefly before giving him a slow smile that left him breathing harder.
“Your chamber awaits, M’lord and lady,” Jenna said from behind them, and they could hear the smile in her voice. “I set a bell outside the door. You’re to ring it if you need anything. Otherwise, Ser, you and your lady wife’ll not be disturbed.”
“Thank you, Jenna.” Jaime told her without looking away from Brienne.
Jaime and Brienne turned to thank the Septon and the innkeep’s family before leaving the meadow to walk back to the inn alone. They climbed the stairs to their room and Jaime paused before the open door to look speculatively at Brienne. “Shall I carry you over the threshold, my love?” he asked.
“I don’t think you could, Jaime.” She laughed.
Jaime ducked down and placed his shoulder against her waist and before she thought to stop him he had her in a firm hold over his shoulder and she laughed as he staggered in, kicked the door shut and dumped her unceremoniously on her back across the bed. “Gods, Wench,” he gasped, “next time we get married you’re carrying me!” and then he collapsed on the bed next to her.
The last of the afternoon sun was leaching the colors from the room, but they could see that Jenna had left them amply provided with a selection of candles in various sizes, none of them made from beef tallow. The thickest of them was already burning and a long taper sat nearby so that the other candles could be lit. Jenna had set out a light meal of bread and cheese and small apples on a tray, along with two flagons of wine, a pitcher of water, and cups.
Brienne reached over to trace her finger over the line of dried blood on Jaime’s forehead, “You fought bravely, Ser,” she told him.
“Like a lion,” he agreed, “though so did you; like a lioness. When did you realize what we were fighting for?”
“I don’t know exactly,” Brienne admitted, “but suddenly I did: I saw it in your eyes and I felt it with every stroke that you would not be denied a victory, so I fought all the harder. Much as I wanted you to win I couldn’t let you.” She laughed and kissed his lips. She pressed her body against him, nudging one long leg between his, the hard muscle of her thigh rubbing against his groin. Jaime sighed and kissed her back, groaning as she pressed her belly against his rigid cock and rocked her hips against him.
Much as he hated to stop her he got off of the bed and stood looking at her for a moment as she propped herself on an elbow, her eyes so dark with desire that his breath caught in his throat.
He turned around to light a few of the candles before sitting down in the chair to remove his boots. Brienne sat up, suddenly realizing that she was still wearing hers. She scooted to the edge of the bed and took them off. Jaime stood up and she reached for his belt, unlooping it and letting it fall from his slim hips.
Then she stood as well and he bent to kiss her neck as he began to pull her tunic up. She helped him to take it off and stood before him, her breasts bare and her nipples erect in the cool air. Brienne lifted Jaime’s tunic over his head and it had barely hit the floor before he had lowered his head to take her nipple between his lips, sucking at it, pulling her breast into his mouth, drawing moans from her throat as he suckled one breast and caressed the other. He released her and looked up into her unfocused eyes; her hands were in his hair, tugging lightly. He nipped the swollen nipple he had been suckling just enough to draw a whimper of pleasure from her before he took the other one into his mouth, swirling his tongue over it before kissing it and sucking on it. She tugged harder at his hair and he squeezed her other nipple between her fingers.
She was rapidly losing her ability to stand upright and Jaime’s cock was aching against his breeches. Jaime leaned her back onto the bed and she helped him to undo her laces. He pulled her breeches and smallclothes off together and then kissed her thatch of thick blond hair, breathing in the heady musk of her arousal. Brienne did not let him linger there for long. She sat back up so that she could undo his laces and pull his breeches off of him, freeing his cock. She leaned forward and kissed the drop of moisture on the tip, running her long fingers lightly along its length.
“Wench,” Jaime groaned, and stepped back a little. “I want this to be good for you, but I am already so roused that if you touch me much more it will be over before it begins.” So Brienne kissed the hard muscles of his stomach and ran her hands up his chest, following them with her lips, exploring. When her hands reached his shoulders he urged her gently onto her back again before leaning down to kiss a bruise that was blooming on her thigh. Searching with his lips and eyes he found other bruises from their fight and kissed them all gently. When Brienne realized what he was doing she began to seek out the bruises she had left on him and kissed them as well, ending with the cut on his temple. They took their time caressing and learning each other, their gentle caresses eventually turning to fevered exploration.
Jaime parted Brienne’s legs and ran his finger along her slit, watching her reaction as she closed her eyes and let her head fall back. He pushed a finger into her folds and gently brushed it against the swollen flesh there before moving it down through her moist lips to her entrance. He very slowly pushed his finger a little way inside of her slick opening before drawing it back out again. Brienne’s breathing became fast and shallow and her hands clutched at the bed sheets. Jaime lowered his head and pushed his tongue into her wet heat and flicked it against her nub, and she shifted a little back from him in surprise. He swirled his tongue around her engorged nub and sucked at it as he had done with her nipples and Brienne cried out as her hips bucked against him. Jaime kissed the insides of her thighs, rubbing his beard against the tender skin there. He slid two fingers to her entrance and pushed one deep inside, watching her all the while. He saw her hand lift and settle onto her breast to pinch her nipple as she raised her head and watched him. Jaime pushed his other finger inside of her also and then drew both fingers almost all the way out before pushing them back in more firmly and then repeating the motion as she wrapped both hands in the sheets again, arching her back off the bed as she gasped. He lowered his head back between her legs and resumed licking and sucking at her nub as he fucked her with his fingers. Brienne began to moan as she writhed against his hand and mouth, his name coming from her lips again and again until a long shudder took her and he felt her sheath contracting around his fingers as she climaxed with a cry that had his cock hardening more than he would have thought possible.
Jaime moved onto the bed with her and wrapped her in his arms, kissing her deeply, the taste and scent of her on his lips. He moved over her and she opened her thighs to him as they shifted together, Jamie's cock rubbing against her thatch and belly. Brienne reached down to wrap her hand around him, to let Jaime know she was ready for more. Jaime groaned low in his throat, his head back.
"If you think you’re ready, I'll go slowly," he promised her, watching her eyes as he rubbed the head of his cock against her slick entrance. He pushed in a little and Brienne tensed at the feel of it. Jaime pulled out and then pushed a little further, calling on all of his self-control not to thrust as his excitement built. "Does it hurt at all, Wench?" He asked when Brienne winced as he pushed a little further into her.
"It does, some." Brienne admitted.
"Did it hurt the, um, the other time?" Jaime asked.
"No, not really." Brienne admitted and then said in a rush, "but I think...while I didn't...I mean, I didn't touch it with my hands, but, you feel different. There's more of you, and your cocks feels..." Brienne stopped, overcome by mortification.
"Oh," Jaime said, "so a lousy lover and not very well endowed, huh? Poor Wench." Jaime chuckled, but there was a little strain behind it as well. "Do you want me to go slower?" He asked, starting to pull back.
"Keep going," Brienne gasped, her arousal rising as the feel of his cock's thick head inside of her sent her pulse racing. Jaime pushed further into her heat before pulling almost out again and then pushing harder into her tightness. Brienne gasped again and he pushed his cock into her deeper still, moaning loudly when he was entirely sheathed in her and they both stilled for a moment, taking in the feel of finally being joined, their hearts pounding. Jaime pulled out most of the way and then pushed slowly back in as Brienne's legs wrapped around his back and her hips rose to meet his next thrust and his next, entranced by the feel of his cock filling her, moving inside of her, by the ecstasy on his face as she watched him lose himself in their joining. Jaime began to thrust faster and harder as he started to lose control, finally throwing his head back, exhaling her name in reverence as he shot his seed into her.
Breathing heavily he rested most of his weight on her, kissing her with abandon as the last tendrils of his climax rolled through him. Brienne cradled him between her thighs and stroked through his hair and down his back, her hands roaming over his shoulders, the muscles in his arms, sliding over his hips, rounding over his ass and pulling him against her, feeling overcome by the love and joy she felt.
Jaime rolled off of her, sliding out of her, and reached his hand down to slide his fingers through the wetness of his seed and her arousal and circle his thumb against the still swollen nub there, setting up a firm and fast rhythm that had her writhing and crying out as her lips latched onto his and she moaned into his mouth. She came hard, sparks flaming behind her closed eyes as Jaime brought her to her fall, finally slowing his thumb's motion as she quieted against him.
Their eyes met in the flickering candlelight and there were no more barriers between them, their love binding them to each other in the afterglow of their fight, their wedding, the joining of their bodies. Jamie had brought his hand up to run it through Brienne's hair when something caught his eye in the glowing light.
"Are you bleeding, my love?" He asked as he saw the fresh blood on his hand.
"I don't think so," Brienne murmured, embarrassed, "I'm pretty sure my moon blood was a couple of weeks ago."
Jaime dipped his hand back between her legs and brought it up to show her the blood glistening there. "Did you bleed before, when you lost your maidenhead?" He asked her.
"Well, no," she admitted, "but women who ride horses a lot often don't bleed their first time. Their maidenhead gets torn in riding. I assumed since I ride that this was true of me as well."
"Qyburn said you were still intact."
"What are you getting at, Jaime? So what if I didn't bleed the night I lost my maidenhead? Maybe I am bleeding now because, well, because it was more...everything, with you."
Jaime began to laugh, much to Brienne's annoyance. "My poor naive wench," he said, "you said I was bigger, but what did you really feel when this man put his cock in you?"
"Well, I felt some pressure against me, but as I said, he didn't feel like you do. Not as big and, um, not as hard? I don't know, Jaime! Just different."
“You felt my fingers in you, didn’t you?” Jaime asked.
“Of course I did. You know I did.” She said, blushing now.
"Unless the wretched man was smaller than my finger you would have felt something, Brienne. I wonder if he entered you at all.”
“I did see his cock, briefly, when he rubbed his spit on it: it was certainly larger than a finger.”
“And did he leave his seed in you?" Jaime asked around a teasing smile.
"I think so," Brienne said, sounding unsure, "I washed at the first stream I came to, and my thighs were sticky with it." Brienne furrowed her brow and thought for a moment and then groaned loudly. Jaime was grinning wickedly at her. "Can I do nothing right? I can't even manage to properly lose my maidenhead!"
"Yes, you can, and you did. To me." Jaime smiled down at her, and with sudden realization Brienne's eyes lit up and she smiled, too.
"I did, didn't I? Oh Jaime, I thought this day couldn't be more perfect, but I was wrong."