Jaime stared at Brienne across the crowded hall, unable to speak or move or breathe. He hadn't expected her to wear a gown tonight. In truth, he hadn't known what to expect, but this, this wasn't it.
Although Brienne was taller than every other woman in the room, she looked undeniably feminine and stunningly beautiful. Jaime was certain there wasn't another woman present lovelier than Brienne, and he wanted nothing more than to cross the hall, take her in his arms, and kiss her senseless. It didn't matter that they were surrounded by a roomful of people. It didn't matter that she was Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and had taken a vow of chastity. He wanted her, and he didn't know how he was going to stop himself from simply falling at her feet and begging her to take him back.
"Well, that is a surprise, isn't it?" Tyrion said, chuckling lightly. "I suppose we couldn't have expected her to show up in her fighting leathers. After all, she did promise you a dance."
"What?" Jaime asked absently, his eyes still on Brienne. He hadn't heard a single word Tyrion had said.
"Lady Brienne looks beautiful tonight, but I can see I don't have to tell you that."
"She always looks beautiful."
Tyrion laughed again. "Ah, the words of a man truly and deeply in love. You really are doomed, aren't you?"
"Probably."
Jaime didn't want to talk to Tyrion anymore. He wanted to talk to Brienne. So, without another word, he left his brother and made his way through the crowd so he could be near the woman he loved.
Jaime's heart fluttered as he approached Brienne, their eyes locked the entire time. There was a telltale blush of emotion in her cheeks that Jaime found enchanting. Was she nervous or excited? He couldn't quite tell. All he knew was that his own body was humming with anticipation by the time he finally reached her.
"Lady Brienne," Jaime said, his voice filled with unmistakable wonder.
"Lord Jaime."
"You . . . you look beautiful tonight."
The blush on Brienne's cheeks deepened. "Thank you, my lord. You don't think it's too much?" she asked, holding out the edges of her skirt to show him just how flowy and feminine it was.
"No, not at all. The blue brings out the color in your eyes. It reminds me of the sapphire blue waters around Tarth. Such a lovely place. I'm sorry I've never gotten to visit. Perhaps someday."
"I'm sure my father would welcome a visit from you, if you ever wanted to make the journey."
"I think I would prefer to make the journey with you. I would love to see the island through your eyes."
Brienne cleared her throat awkwardly and broke his gaze, turning her attention to the crowded hall. Jaime could tell that he was making her nervous, and he knew he should stop trying to flatter her, but he was finding it difficult to keep his feelings to himself. He wanted her so badly, loved her so much. He was used to seeing Brienne in men's clothes, day after day, and although he loved her just as she was, finally seeing her in a gown that actually suited her had simply robbed him of his senses. He knew he was prattling on like a lovesick fool, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.
"I'm not fond of idle flattery," Brienne said before finally looking at him again. "So please don't say things that you don't mean."
"You know that I mean it. I love you, Brienne," Jaime said softly, so softly that only she could hear. "You know I do."
"Yes, I know."
Jaime didn't know what he had been hoping for. A confession of love, perhaps? He knew he had no right to expect any such thing. Brienne had agreed to dance with him tonight, nothing more. He'd been a fool to get his hopes up, even for a moment.
Jaime glanced away, trying to pull himself together, trying to salvage some of his pride. Before he could look at Brienne again, a trumpet sounded and the crowd fell silent. Everyone turned toward the main doorway to watch as Queen Sansa and King Bran made their grand entrance.
Sansa Stark looked magnificent as she entered the room, her shoulders back, her head held high. She wore a flowing grey gown in the southern style, the skirt embroidered with silver direwolves all throughout. Although the dress was modest by southern standards, it still showed enough skin to make any man quiver with desire.
Jaime's eyes immediately went to Tyrion, finding him on the other side of the hall. He was staring at Sansa the same way Jaime had just stared at Brienne, and Jaime realized that he and his brother were the two least enviable men in the entire room. Jaime couldn't have Brienne, and Tyrion couldn't have Sansa, and life was just too horribly unfair for words.
Bran and Sansa proceeded to the head table at the end of the hall, a member of the Kingsguard pushing Bran's wheeled chair. Once they were settled, Bran said a few words of welcome, and then, all the guests were invited to take their seats so that the feast could begin.
Jaime turned to Brienne only to find her eyes on Tyrion. He cleared his throat to get her attention. "I believe the small council is supposed to sit at the head table beside King Bran. Will you join me?" he asked, offering her his arm.
Brienne stared at Jaime for a long moment, and he feared she might refuse. It wasn't until she spoke again that he realized what had given her pause. "Your . . . your hand."
"A gift from Tyrion." Jaime held up his arm so that Brienne could have a better look. "He commissioned Gendry Baratheon to make it. I told him to melt the other one down and use the gold to buy food for the poor."
Brienne's eyes moved to Jaime's face, narrowing as they searched the deepest recesses of his soul. "You really gave up your golden hand?" she asked, the disbelief in her voice unmistakable.
"Of course. I had no use for it anymore. It reminded me of things best forgotten, things I've left behind."
Brienne didn't say another word on the matter. Instead, she slipped her arm around Jaime's and turned so that he could lead her to the table.
The breath caught in Jaime's throat the instant Brienne touched him. Even though it was a small gesture, it made his heart ache and his blood race. It had been far too long since he and Brienne had been this close, and just the touch of her hand was enough to render him helpless.
Jaime led Brienne across the room, his legs like jelly, his whole body trembling. He prayed that Brienne couldn't feel the slight tremor in the arm that held hers. Although she already knew that he loved her, he didn't want her to know how truly vulnerable he was.
The head table stretched out across the entire width of the hall. Sansa was seated to Bran's left, and the small council members were to sit to his right. By the time Jaime and Brienne reached the table, Tyrion was already climbing up into the chair beside Bran. Ser Davos sat beside him, and then Sam. Bronn, thankfully, was nowhere to be found, and Jaime could only assume that he was off somewhere drinking, gambling, or trying to sneak under a lady's skirt. With three empty chairs left, Brienne sat beside Sam, and Jaime sat next to her.
The other end of the table was taken up by the most powerful lords in the Six Kingdoms: the new Dornish prince, Edmure Tully, Robin Arryn . . . and Gendry Baratheon.
Gendry sat down beside Sansa, and Jaime's eyes instantly found Tyrion again. There was a deep scowl on his brother's face and a half empty glass of wine in his hand, even though the drinks had only just been poured.
"Does she really intend to marry Gendry Baratheon?" Jaime said without realizing he had spoken the question aloud.
"And why shouldn't she?" Brienne answered. "He really is quite handsome, don't you think?"
Jaime tore his eyes away from Tyrion and looked at Brienne. "He may be handsome, but he's in love with her sister."
"Yes, I know. But maybe he'll get over it."
Jaime had said something similar to Brienne the first time they had discussed the matter, and now, she was turning his own words back on him.
"I seem to have changed my opinion on the subject," Jaime replied. "I know he won't get over it. Just like I haven't gotten over you."
Brienne stared at him for the briefest moment before lowering her gaze to her plate, a soft blush darkening her cheeks, and Jaime wondered if he had gone too far. At what point would Brienne stop finding his words of endearment charming and start finding them insufferable?
Jaime decided to change the subject, certain that he was only making things worse. "Brienne, I—"
But she didn't let him finish. She lifted her head and met his gaze, her eyes dark with a fire he hadn't seen in ages. He knew that look. He had seen it before, late in the night when they'd been alone together in her bed.
Jaime's heart seized in his chest, and he suddenly found it very difficult to breathe.
"I think," Brienne said, "perhaps you should save the flattery for later. It's going to be a long night."
"Yes. Yes, of course."
Brienne turned away, and Jaime's heart began to beat again, her words still ringing in his ears. It's going to be a long night. What did she mean by that? Did . . . did that mean what he thought it meant? Jaime didn't want to get his hopes up, but perhaps Tyrion was right. Perhaps he wouldn't be going to bed alone tonight after all.
Jaime let the matter drop, and he and Brienne both focused their attention on the center of the table, watching Sansa and Tyrion pretend to ignore each other. Sansa fawned shamelessly over Gendry, flirting with him like she had once flirted with Joffrey and Loras Tyrell. It was odd seeing the Ice Queen of Winterfell suddenly playing the coy young maid, but it was riling Tyrion up quite nicely, and Jaime couldn't deny the fact that he was enjoying it.
As Tyrion had promised, although the Red Keep was hosting a feast fit for a King, it was a modest affair by Westerosi standards. The food was plentiful, but nothing too exotic or too costly, and Jaime knew that anything not consumed by the guests that evening would be distributed to the poor the next morning.
Although there were scores of lords and ladies present from all over Westeros, Jaime had no idea just how much revenue the event had generated for the crown. Obviously, any influx of gold was welcome, but Jaime hoped that the whole affair didn't end up costing more than it earned.
Once the main courses were served and the festivities were well underway, the dancing began. One end of the hall had been left empty of tables and benches so that the guests could enjoy themselves. There was a quintet of musicians playing jaunty music, and everyone was invited to join in the merriment. As soon as the first chords started to play, Queen Sansa invited Gendry to dance, much to Tyrion's obvious chagrin.
Jaime's pulse raced as he tried to work up the nerve to ask Brienne to join him for a dance. He knew she had already agreed, but he didn't want to appear too eager. He still wasn't very sure of his skills as a dancer, and he was as nervous as an untried youth.
"What does she think she's doing?" Jaime asked, his eyes on Sansa as he attempted to make idle conversation.
"You know what she's doing, and I must say, it seems to be working. Just look at him," Brienne said, clearly talking about Tyrion. "He's on at least his third glass of wine. If he isn't careful, he won't be able to walk a straight line by the end of the night."
Jaime felt sorry for Tyrion, even though he'd done nothing but meddle in Jaime's affairs for the past month. "Is she really that angry with him?"
"She was, but I think her anger has finally begun to cool."
Jaime turned his attention away from Tyrion and looked at Brienne. "If that's the case, then why is she doing this to him?"
"Because it's her last chance to make him see just how foolish he was before everything changes."
"You mean before she marries Gendry."
"No," Brienne said, the corner of her mouth curving in a knowing smile. "Before she tells him that she loves him."
Jaime stared at Brienne, dumbstruck. For a moment, he didn't even know what to say. "Do . . . do you really mean that?"
"I may be breaking a confidence by telling you this, but I don't want you to think ill of Queen Sansa and I don't want you to worry about Lord Tyrion. He'll be fine. Before Sansa's visit is over, things will have changed considerably between them."
"Even though Tyrion is a virtual prisoner here in King's Landing?"
"I'm sure Sansa can convince King Bran to be lenient."
Jaime was momentarily stunned. Until that morning, he hadn't even known that Sansa Stark was coming to King's Landing, and now, it seemed, she was mere days away from being engaged to his brother. He could scarcely believe it, but then, he supposed, stranger things had happened.
"May I ask you something, Lord Jaime?" Brienne said as she raised her glass to her lips and took a small sip, leveling her eyes at him.
"And what is that?"
Brienne lowered her glass. "What are you waiting for? Are you going to ask me to dance or not?"
Jaime swallowed the lump in his throat and took a fortifying sip of wine. When he had adequately shored himself up, he said, "Lady Brienne, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and Knight of the Six Kingdoms, would you do me the honor of granting me this dance?"
Brienne's smile widened, and her blush deepened. "Lord Jaime, I thought you'd never ask."
Jaime pushed himself up from the table and pulled back Brienne's chair. Once she rose, she took his arm and allowed him to escort her to the other end of the hall.
Jaime could feel the eyes of the entire room upon them. He was sure they made a striking pair, both tall and blond and dressed in their finest attire. It never once occurred to him that anyone might find fault with Brienne. As far as he was concerned, she was the most beautiful woman in the room—the most beautiful woman in all of Westeros—and no one else could ever compare.
By the time they reached the other side of the hall, the first dance was ending and Jaime and Brienne had just enough time to take their places before the music began again. Jaime glanced down the line of dancers, catching a glimpse of Sansa and Gendry preparing for their second dance of the evening. He was sure that, wherever Tyrion was, he was seething with jealousy.
Jaime's heart beat faster as the music began to play. He turned his attention back to Brienne, the breath catching in his throat the instant their eyes met.
Jaime had done his best to learn all the steps to this particular dance, and he'd feared he would forget every last one of them the moment his feet touched the floor. But as he and Brienne glided across the room, weaving in and out among the other couples, he seemed to float on air. Maybe it was the lively music, or the excitement of the evening. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the look of joy in Brienne's eyes, the sheer happiness that radiated from deep within her soul.
Every time their hands touched, Jaime's pulse quickened, and he wondered if Brienne could feel him trembling. Their dance didn't seem like a dance at all. It seemed like something more, like a promise of things to come. Jaime knew he didn't deserve Brienne's affection or her forgiveness, but if she was finally willing to give him one or the other or both, he would gladly accept it, if only to make Brienne happy.
Far too soon, the music ended and Jaime found himself bowing to Brienne as she offered him something like a curtsy. He was afraid the dancing was over and he'd lost his chance to be close to her, but he couldn't have been more wrong.
"Do you fancy another?" Brienne asked, surprising him. "I seem to have survived that dance with all my toes intact, so if you'd like to dance the next one as well, I would not refuse."
Jaime's heart thumped against his ribs as he answered Brienne, not with words, but by offering her his hand. When the music finally started up again, they fell into a comfortable rhythm, their hearts in perfect harmony.