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“Do you remember the bridge?” she asked one night. They were huddled under blankets and cloaks, crouched low near the fire that lit the back of the cave wall, projecting their shadows behind them.
It was not that Jaime was surprised by her voice breaking the silence that had settled somewhat uncomfortably over their heads since they had reunited, but that he’d forgotten they had stopped talking. Every so often he would hear her sniff or wipe her nose on a rag, and that had seemed as much a conversation to him as any.
“I remember so many bridges.” He paused briefly as his thoughts turned to a number of witty, sarcastic phrases he could say. “Actually, no. I’m not much of a builder. I recall the bridges that were useful, and the ones I had destroyed.”
“All bridges are useful, aren’t they? If not for crossing rivers, then for fishing from. Nobody likes trying to fish while standing in the river wearing plate.”
“I take it back. Useful bridges are easily forgotten. I remember the ones that got in my way.” The ones I fought for, the ones I burned, he thought, but kept the words caught on the tip of his tongue, fighting back guilty thoughts of past duties.
Brienne sniffed again, bringing his thoughts back to them, the fire, the blankets, the chilly cave. This was not easy for her, he could tell. Then again, the only time he knew things were easy for her were the moments when she had a blade in her hand. He looked at her briefly, chancing a glance to better inform the intent behind her question. Under normal circumstances her face would have readily betrayed her, but this time he retreated from her gaze relatively quickly, uncertain what she was meaning. There was a faraway stare, her face at an impasse, choosing not to express her inner thoughts. It was her eyes that gave away the internal battle she fought.
“You know the one I mean. The Bloody Mummers.”
Ah yes, he remembered that bridge too well. The dissonant collision of her honor and the consequences of her choices. His choices, too. He ruefully recalled how arrogant and self-confident he had been, choosing to fight for his escape in the middle of a bridge, with bloody loud swords.
“It’s a bit cold to re-enact our first melee, don’t you think? Mind you, that river would have been chilling, too.”
Firelight held Jaime’s gaze as he willed their shelter to warm up faster than the tiny blaze was managing so far. Gods knew Brienne needed the warmth more than he did, for she had been alternately sniffling or shivering for days now. He knew Brienne was wilful and that was why she had refused his offer of an extra blanket the previous night. His worried thoughts were interrupted as she spoke again.
“I remember standing at the edge of the riverbank, trying to block out your highly accurate monologue of my decision making process. It was truly irritating, I couldn’t think with you droning on about drowning or getting caught.”
One corner of Jaime’s mouth threatened to reveal his mirth as he recalled how in that moment she had been thinking so hard she might as well have been yelling her thoughts out loud. “And yet, here I am, still talking. I’m sure you could have silenced me a long time ago if you wanted to.”
He chanced the briefest glance at her, his mouth smirking but his eyes laughing. He noted she was still mulling over options in her head, but she met his eyes for the first time in a long while. He couldn’t resist teasing her more this time, launching into another verbal volley before she could parry.
“Let me guess, tonight you’re thinking – how do I ask Jaime to go get more firewood so I can stay warm under these blankets? I could throw our current supply outside into the snow, but that would ruin perfectly good tinder. I could hit him over the head with tiny twigs until he gets the message. I could – “
AACHOO!
He found himself stunned into silence by the sudden explosion of a sneeze from his companion, its arrival forcefully announced as the cave amplified what would normally have been a modest noise. He knew his eyes were wide and he couldn’t mask his amusement at how effectively she had gotten him to stop talking.
“Shut up, Jaime…”
He laughed freely then, but this made Brienne glare at him harder. Trying to regain some composure lest she misunderstand his mood, he managed to throw out a “Bless you” between gasps of air and laughter. Brienne merely took another rag and wiped her nose while staring him down, though he could see she was fighting the urge to turn away. Finally he calmed himself enough to speak again.
“If you had only sneezed like that while we were crossing the bridge, I would likely have been too stunned to try and escape.”
This time he found he was not the only one smiling. He caught her grinning back at him from under the edge of her blanket.
“Ser, it would not have changed our fates, for your laughter would have given us away as well. Though I’m not sure I would have minded hearing you laugh, later on. The Seven can attest to how I prayed for you to start insulting me again so I would know you were going to survive.”
Jaime made a show of reaching over to touch the back of his hand to her forehead. To his surprise, it was hot and she was sweating. Bloody stubborn woman, he thought. He had mistaken her sleep cries for nightmares. She was not wrestling with difficult memories as much as she was afflicted by fever dreams.
“You must be really unwell if you recall my distasteful comments so fondly, wench. Normally I would not admit that Lannisters can be fools, but clearly I have been one these past few days. When were you going to tell me how poorly you were keeping?”
Brienne’s hands gingerly rubbed her sides faster, trying to create more warmth. She looked down, tucking her nose and chin under the blanket, but could not hide the yawn that soon followed. “I had no plans to slow us down. It is nothing, I will be better in the morning.”
“You will be better with a few days of hot food, warm bedding, and rest. A gaunt look does not become you, or so my mother used to say when the great Lord Tywin refused to rest. Please tell me you are not so prideful as my father to believe that rest is a sign of weakness.”
This time she threw her head back and giggled. It was the sort of laugh that only escapes the truly exhausted and would otherwise be inappropriate. “No, ser, I would not compare myself to your Lord father.”
Jaime raised an eyebrow at her as he realized he was about to win their current battle of wills. “Good, then you will take my mother’s orders and my spare blanket and get some better sleep. Tomorrow we are going to find a warmer place to rest, preferably with a healer.”
“But…”
“No arguments. You must rest. I will take first watch, if it will ease your mind.”
She nodded her compliance, but he knew she was going to find some way to maintain her honor even while being nursed back to health. It was enough, he thought, if she agreed to find a healer.
“You may have first watch, Ser. I will go and get your spare blanket from the packs, after I have gathered some more firewood. As you say, we need a warmer place to stay.”
She spoke as she was standing up, and he watched her walk off, before he could call her back. Then she was gone, a shadow melting into the dark of the night. He forced himself to stay put and ignore the urge to follow her like a nursemaid. Just as his self-control was waning she was back, carrying a bundle of kindling wrapped up in his spare blanket. She unwrapped the bundle and rolled its contents out on the floor, then took a couple larger pieces of wood and placed them in the middle of the fire. Some of the thinner kindling she then placed in a triangular formation over the fire, and they slowly caught the flames. He watched as the fire burned brighter, and soon there was a much better feeling of warmth in the small space they occupied.
Brienne had also brought their packs in, and she placed one at the wall. Their armor had been removed a few hours ago now, but their clothes were still damp from the light snows they traveled through. He saw her lie down and wrap both blankets around her then place her head on the pack. She had rolled away from the fire and also from him, and was facing the wall.
He watched her sleeping for a while, considering her and the troubles they faced. She was still so focused on her honor and duties but he felt overwhelmed when he tried to simplify his own life that way. Word of northern concerns had filtered to the small council meetings more frequently in the days and weeks before he left Kings Landing, and he was certain Brienne would not be aware of the latest events. The Night’s Watch had not been heard from in weeks, and all they had were whispers and rumors of armies and apparitions. There had been so many difficult decisions and so much troublesome news he chose to avoid by leaving, but now he had different concerns to face. And so my watch begins, he thought, but was grateful he couldn’t recall the rest of the ancient oath. He would not say another vow he did not intend to keep.
His jaw was clenched and he willed himself to relax. A deep breath, long exhale, shoulder roll, and he turned back to the fire. Brienne had not moved in a while but he could hear her breathing if he closed his eyes, and he used the rhythm to further centre himself.
Little other noise breached the quiet of their refuge the rest of the night. As the fire died down and he rationed the remaining firewood, staying awake was much too difficult. It must have been a few hours at least before he could no longer rationalize staying awake. He blinked, finding it hard to keep his eyes open. Surely there would be no harm in getting some rest for himself.
He had already decided against waking Brienne to take his place on watch duty, and knew his sleep-deprived brain was assisting with his choices when he found that he was lying down next to her. She was warm, he reasoned, and that was important. After all, the need to survive had always served him well.
Brienne had firmly tucked the inner blanket around her, but the second layer was loose. He lifted up its edge and snuck under it, then placed their third blanket over them both, instantly grateful for the extra warmth and lulled further into drowsiness from it.
His father’s words about duty and maintaining vigilance be damned, he was tired too. He was fairly certain he had left enough of a fire going to have cinders if not a low flame to get them going once they woke. Dropping off into sleep, his last thought before all conscious thought vanished was that they could figure out their next steps in the morning.