Brienne rode past the latest endless, monotonous stand of trees along the road and saw the inn ahead. The last of the sunlight glanced golden off its peaked roof, leaving the lower floors dark. She hoped this inn was not abandoned, but the darkness of the building was no indication. It was early yet to light the tallows in most places, and the innkeepers would no doubt work in the low light as long as possible before using their stock of candles. She hoped that if they were beef tallow candles that at least the innkeep believed in perfuming them with lavender, or even rosemary. Brienne discerned movement by the stable, fleeting shadows in the small front window, and some chickens desultorily pecking at the ground before seeking the safety of the trees for the night. Was it too much to hope there would be eggs available in the morning? She was very tired of dried salt pork and rock hard bread day after day.

Brienne herself was just tired, right down to the bone. She had been traveling for a long while, with no true destination. The countryside had settled down and she had given in to an urge to simply see the sights, to spend some time in no company other than her own. She would stop for a meal at a tavern or stay at an inn anytime she saw one on the road. An inn did not have to be occupied to be of use to her, for if it wasn't she coaxed her horse inside with her and barred the door behind them. Deserted homesteads and inns offered protection from the elements and some cover from other travelers, though they seldom had any comforts beyond a hard bed and a working well; the food stores were always ransacked or rotten. If Brienne could avoid sleeping out of doors she did; one did not rest well with one eye open to watch for thieves or cutthroats. Her horse was a good companion, quick to alert her if he sensed danger, but he needed his sleep as well. The two of them were worn out, and the chance of passing the night in a safe place made even the prospect of having to deal with other people not so onerous as usual.

As she came closer to the inn Brienne saw a lone figure standing near the stables, and the last of the sun caught a bit of his hair that had lifted in the breeze, making it glow with gold and red. For a second she was reminded of Jaime, and the dull ache of missing him added to her weariness. They had parted nigh on a year ago, after they had escorted Lady Sansa to the wall and left her in the care of her half-brother Jon. Brienne and Jaime had traveled together for several months as they worked together to find, rescue and return the girl to safety. Sansa could not be restored to her former place as Lady Catelyn might have wished as she was carrying Petyr Baelish's bastard in her belly and Winterfell was still held by the Boltons, but she was alive. Brienne knew she was strong, like her mother, and with her resilience and Jon's protection she and her child would eventually carve out a decent life. Brienne and Jaime had parted at the halfway point back to King's Landing, he to return to his duties with the Kingsguard, she presumably to return to Tarth.

By now she had reached the yard, and the man by the stables had not moved. He almost seemed to be waiting for her. He was nearly completely silhouetted now with the sun behind him, and his shadow reached nearly to the feet of Brienne's horse. Was he a groom, at an inn this humble? He watched her halt the horse and dismount. Then a voice she knew too well said her name. Not "Wench," but "Brienne," And she found herself face to face with Jaime Lannister.

Her throat seemed to close up and it was several long heartbeats before she was able to say his name, and then her words tumbled out, her voice cracking from long disuse. "Ser Jaime. I…I am surprised to find you here, at such an obscure inn. How came you to be here?" She stuttered out.

"I do not get a 'hello, well met,' from you, Brienne?" he asked with a little smile at her discomfiture.

"Hello, Ser." She said dutifully, "How came you to be here?"

Jaime laughed briefly, "You have not changed, Wench. To the point, a little suspicious, though your voice seems a little strained. Has anyone else tried to hang you lately?"

Brienne could not help raising her hand to her throat, where the scars of Lady Stoneheart's noose were barely visible. "I am but surprised to see you, and have been on the road for many days with only my horse to speak to. I'm afraid my skill at conversation is even more dismal than usual."

"I'm happy to see you, Wench," he said, stepping forward and embracing her in a gentle hug. "Tell me you are glad to see me?" he asked, a little hopefully.

"I am always glad to see you, Ser Jaime." She said dully.

"Joyful indeed," Jaime said a little sarcastically, "Could you at least drop the 'Ser' and just call me 'Jaime?'"

"Jaime," she said dutifully, then with more warmth, "I am happy to see you Jaime, it is only that I am a little surprised to have come upon you here."

"Let's get your horse taken care of. We can put him in the stall next to mine; they must have a lot to talk about since they parted." Jaime said, reaching for her horse's bridle. "Then we will go share a hot meal and catch up ourselves." Jaime tried to read her face in the gloom, "Come Wench, what has got you so down?"

Brienne did not bother with a reply, only followed him into the stable and watched as he relieved the horse of its burdens and then wiped him down well with a twisp of straw. He finished by forking fresh-smelling hay into the food trough.

Jaime tried not to show how troubled he was by Brienne's cheerlessness, but he was having difficulty keeping up his usual chatter in the face of her melancholy silence. They walked side by side to the inn, and Jaime opened the door for her. She glanced at him before entering, but did not object to his chivalry. Within the main room the tallows had been lit (beef, and a little stinky) and the innkeeps were bustling around getting things ready for their few patrons. At sight of Jaime the innkeep's wife dimpled and she said "Ser Jaime! Your guest has arrived, I see. Shall I set out your dinner?"

"Yes, thank you, Jenna," Jaime said, giving her one of his charming smiles.

"Guest?" asked Brienne with a sharp look at him.

"Are you not a guest here?" asked Jaime lightly, and led her to a table near the hearth, which crackled cheerfully.

"But – "

"And you are going to be myguest for dinner, are you not?" he said quickly, gesturing in the air with his steel hand as the serving wench passed by. "Will you have some ale, my lady?" he asked, "or would you prefer wine? I can ask what vintages they have, though I would not get your hopes up for anything fine."

"Ale, perhaps with some water in it, thank you." Brienne said, leaving the question of the curious greeting he had received from Jenna for later.

"I am assured the meat is fresh, and I have been smelling bread baking since I arrived this afternoon." Jaime told her.

"So you have only just arrived yourself?" asked Brienne, raising her pale eyebrows, "Do you know the innkeeps then? They certainly seem to know you."

"I have not met them before today, no, but they seem like nice folk."

"What does bring you here, Jaime?" asked Brienne again with a frown.

"Maybe I was just looking for the Maid of Tarth and I heard you were headed this way." Jaime told her with a small smile. Brienne glanced at him briefly and looked away. For several moments she was silent, and when the ale arrived she took a drink, and then another, and still did not speak.

"'Looking for the Maid of Tarth,'" Brienne muttered, "please call me 'Brienne', or even 'Wench,' if you must, Jaime."

"Brienne," Jaime said, reaching for one of her hands with his left one, "What is the matter, Brienne? What has brought you so low? And what is so wrong with being called the 'Maid of Tarth'? Has something happened to you?" Jaime swallowed thickly, "Please speak to me, Brienne. You will barely look at me, and your spirits are so low that I am afraid of tripping over them."

"My spirits are fine, Jaime." Brienne told him, "But I no longer claim the title 'Maid of Tarth', if you must know."

Jaime's eyes darkened and he lifted his hand to hold her chin up, willing her eyes to rise and look into his. "Are you no longer a maid, then, Brienne? Or did you just grow tired of being called one?" Concern drew down his brows and he looked truly fierce.

"I am no longer a maid, Jaime." She told him simply, finally looking into his eyes, but without a hint of emotion to give away her thoughts. Their dinner arrived then and Jaime released Brienne's chin and sat back so the portly innkeep could set the plates down.

"There you are m'lady, Ser," He said with a small bow. "I hope you find it to your liking. The wife has taken special care with her cooking this evening. I don't think she's burned anything at all." He laughed loudly at his own jest and Jaime smiled widely, though Brienne could see how forced it was. The innkeep strode away, pleased with himself.

Brienne reached over and tore Jaime's bread in half without even thinking about it. She picked up her own bread and held it, but seemed not to remember what to do with it.

"Wench," Jaime said in an undertone, "were you raped? Is that why you are so downtrodden? By the seven, Brienne, I will kill whoever dared to touch you!"

"I was not raped, Jaime." Brienne told him calmly, realizing she had been picking apart the bread in her hand and a pile of crumbs was soaking into the gravy that covered her meat. "But I appreciate your, um, concern."

"You fell in love." Jaime stated, looking if anything more distressed than he had been over a possible rape. "Tell me your heart hasn't been broken by some knave. Or are you still in love with him, and being apart is what makes you so sad?" Jaime sat back, defeated, and drank his ale down in one swallow. He stared down at his food, and stirred it with his knife.

"No and no, Jaime." Brienne told him.

"Talk to me, Wench," Jaime said through a clenched jaw, "your half answers and riddles aggravate me. And don't tell me it is none of my business, for we are not nothing to each other, you and I, no matter what has befallen us when were apart."

"Is this really the place, Ser?" Brienne said evasively.

"Innkeep?" Jaime called out, and Jenna came bustling over.

"Is their aught amiss, Ser?" she asked anxiously, her cheeks reddening in concern, "I swear I tried not to burn anything tonight! Is the gravy too salty? The meat too tough? The goat was fresh slaughtered and roasted to a turn, you know."

Jaime and Brienne smiled at each other, a glimmer of their old rapport as they thought of Vargo Hoat, who had been called 'the Goat' by all.

"No, everything is perfect, Jenna. But my lady is tired from her journey. Is our room ready?"

"Oh, yes, Ser, your bags have been brought up, and if you'll just give us a moment Ser I'll have one of my sons fetch the lady's up as well."

"Jaime," Brienne began, but Jaime spoke over her.

"Yes, thank you, Jenna. And perhaps a bath could be prepared later?"

"Indeed Ser," she said and dropped an unpracticed curtsey, then hustled away calling "Rolf! Bags!"

"Wine," said Brienne, "ask them for a flagon of wine."

"White or red?" Jaime asked.

"Red, please." Brienne told him. "Should I not bespeak my own room? They have assumed that we are together."

"We are together, Wench. And for now I will not let you out of my sight, so do not even think to try." Brienne gave him a wan smile at first, and then her lips turned up just a bit and she ducked her head shyly.

"I have missed you, Jaime. I honestly have."

The two left their uneaten meal and climbed the crooked stairs to the floor which housed the inn's guest rooms. The ceilings were low and slanted, and the tallow burning on the windowsill seemed to cast more shadows than light. Jaime went to the last room in the row and opened the door onto a surprisingly cozy space with a raised platform covered with a generously stuffed mattress. A thick blanket was folded at the foot of the bed, and two flat pillows rested at the top. One chair, a small night stand and a primitive chest of drawers with several candles burning on top competed with the bed for space.

Jaime shrugged his cloak off and hung it on a hook attached to the closed door. He held his hand out for Brienne's and she handed him her cloak to hang. "Take your boots off and stay a while," Jaime said with a smile, making a flourish at the room with his arm, as though to show her something very grand. Brienne smiled a little and sat down on the bed to kick off her boots. Jaime took the chair next to the bed and did the same.

"Lie down, if you like, Wench. I know you must be exhausted." Jaime told her. Brienne shook her head but raised her long legs up on the bed and curled them under her, resting her shoulder against the headboard. There was a knock on the door and they both alertly turned to look. "Come," called Jaime, and Jenna came in with their wine and two cups. She tried to pour for them but Jaime thanked her kindly and told her he would pour for them in a moment. Jenna backed out the door, smiling at them all the while.

Jaime filled a cup of wine for each of them and set them on the night stand. Brienne reached out and took hers. She took a sip, nodded her head, and then sat cradling the cup in her hands. Jaime leaned forward and put his elbows on his thighs and looked at Brienne; his eyes took in every inch of her and even then seemed not to have had their fill.

"Now tell me, and do not leave anything out, what has happened to you." He said in a tone that told her he would not be put off.

"Where shall I start?" Asked Brienne, and took a long drink of her wine, "you will surely be asleep before I have told you every detail of even my first week since we parted."

"You know what I mean, Wench. I would have of you the story of why you are so sad, and why you are no longer a maid."

"Which would you like to hear first?" She asked, peering into her cup and swirling the wine that was left in it. Jaime refilled it from the flagon and dashed a little more into his own cup as well.

"They are not one and same?" Jaime asked in some surprise.

"No," said Brienne simply and leaned her head back against the wall, the column of her throat looked achingly vulnerable to Jaime and much as he wanted to reach out to touch some part of her he was afraid she would not allow it. There seemed a tender truce between them now, and he did not want to set her back on her guard.

"If you don't mind then, tell me how you come to be no longer a maid." He said gently, and took a long drink of his own wine. The wine was lightly spiced and mellow on his tongue. Setting his cup on the night stand, he leaned forward again, his real and his steel hand dangling between his knees.

Brienne slid down a little on the bed, half prone on her side, but did not take her eyes from Jaime's face. She began to speak in a steady voice: "You once told me about a dagger you had, a fine piece of steel with a hilt studded with tiny rubies. It was a gift from an aunt, I believe? Do you remember what happened to that dagger?" she asked.

Jamie looked puzzled, "I do. It's in my saddle bags. Why?"

"I recall you told me once that the dagger was so fine, and so precious to you, that for a long time you just kept it in its scabbard hung upon the wall, for fear of damaging it in some way. And then one day you just took it out of that scabbard and out of your rooms and threw it as hard as you could against the stones and watched it skitter across the courtyard." Brienne said, "And once that dagger's hilt was scuffed and the blade less pristine you were able to get over the need to protect it from harm."

Jaime nodded; it was something he still did when he found himself too concerned with protecting a thing to the point that it lost its purpose. He would make sure the shiny new armor was dented in practice bouts, the shield's fine painted design marred by sword blows, the chased silver saddle broken in with the wildest horse he could find.

"My maidenhood was like that to me." Brienne told him, her face serious, willing him to understand, "A thing that I was told was of such value that I had to protect it at all costs. I had to protect it from the wagers of men who wanted to take something that was important to me, I had to protect it from men who wanted to rip it from me in violence and hateful lust; I had to protect it so that I could come to my marriage bed and offer it, offer it! To some man who only valued it because when he had taken it away from me I would be his, to use as he saw fit. He got to be the one to fling it against the stones of the courtyard and have the benefit of continuing to use that which was no longer valuable to anyone else." Brienne paused, taking a steadying breath, watching Jaime, who was looking at her intently.

"And why? The septas never tell this to the young maidens they teach, the girls they hobble by making them fear to lose something they can never regain, something that makes them worth something with it, and worth nothing without it." Here Brienne paused, drank the rest of her wine and leaned toward Jaime, "I do not see men needing to protect their own virtue, quite the opposite. Tell me, Jaime, why does a man need to have a woman who has never been with another man? Are men so afraid a woman might have someone to compare him to? And don't tell me it is to assure any children born of the union would be of the man's line; you of all people know there is no guarantee of that."

Brienne looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes now, "I threw it away, Jaime. Of what use was it to me that I should be always worried about protecting it? My honor did not lie in that fragile piece of skin, nor my innocence, which was torn away from me piece by piece in the Riverlands."

"And yet you gave it to someone, willingly." Jaime rasped, "Who was he, Brienne? Did he treat you well? Did he take care not to hurt you, to see that you enjoyed it as well as I am certain he did?"

Brienne laughed briefly, humorlessly, "Jaime, you are more naïve than I could have imagined, or more idealistic. Or maybe you are secretly romantic and have come to believe in knightly behavior against all evidence to the contrary."

"Did he hurt you then, Brienne? Whoever it was, I will kill him if he hurt you." Jaime's voice was low, and seemed angry.

"I did not give my maidenhood to anybody, Jaime. I did not offer it up for some man to have the satisfaction of believing they were getting something of me."

"But you said that you were no longer a maid,"

"And that is the truth." Brienne said now, setting her empty cup on the stand, "I did not tell the man what he would be ridding me of. He never suspected it was anything but a fuck between strangers in a nameless tavern. I was gone before morning, and he was too drunk to remember much. But not so drunk he could not do the one thing I wanted from him."

Jaime looked unutterably sad, "Would that it had been me, instead," he whispered hoarsely.

"Would you have taken my maidenhood from me? I don't think you would have been willing to so 'dishonour' me, Ser." Brienne shook her head to answer for him, "You would not have asked, and I would not have offered. And what if I had offered it and you had refused? Whether out of respect or revulsion, I could not have lived with it. Not from you." She whispered.

"And if I had asked?"

"It would have been yours to cast upon the stones, and I would have been well rid of it."

Jaime rested his forehead in the palm of his hand, shoulders slumped. Finally, he looked back up at her, "Gods, Brienne, has your heart hardened so since I saw you last? How can you think it would be nothing to me, to give me your trust and let it be me to make you happy? How could I ever see your first experience of love as a simple bauble to crush so that I need never worry about hurting it again?"

Brienne's eyes were pricking with tears, for all her brave words that none of it mattered. "You do not need to feel bad for me, Ser," she said, and Jaime was suddenly on his knees beside the bed, pulling her to him, holding her tightly in his arms.

"Oh, Wench, I do not know who I feel worse for, you or me." He whispered into her ear and reached up with his hand to cup the back of her head and then to stroke her hair.

Brienne gave a little hiccupping laugh "I assure you ser, you did not miss much."

"Then maybe it is you who missed out," he japed, but his voice lacked the lightness of humor and his heart beat against her as though he had been running a long way, "Brienne," he said in a slightly broken voice, "Oh, Brienne. I am so sorry. I did not know. All the times I was with you and wanted you so badly, and did nothing, nothing." He put his hands on the sides of her head and shifted her so that her forehead was pressed to his, but her eyes were closed and she was shuttered to him. "Brienne, how many times I have thought of you over the past year, and each thought was a like a lash on my heart. And each time I touched myself I was thinking of you, and imagining what we would be to each other, if only – "

"If only what?" she said then, opening her eyes to look into his, still guarded, still disbelieving.

"If only you would have me, Wench. And now you tell me I need only have asked."

The tears Brienne had repressed stung and overflowed, and she pulled out of Jaime's arms. Jamie reached out with his left hand and wiped a tear from her cheek, and then another. "Do you still say it was nothing?" he asked, and Brienne nodded, reaching up to wipe her traitorous tears on her sleeve.

"It is only that I am tired, Ser. I have been riding since before the sun was up."

"And you did not think to encounter me," Jaime said, "but you have. Did you really miss me, Wench? Tell me you never thought of me while we were apart. You were never far from my thoughts."

"I wondered if you were well. I was pleased to see you." Brienne said stiffly.

"Do you hate me so much that you deny me even a tiny bit of gladness in my company? Do you not wonder why I am here?"

"Why you are here?" Brienne asked, "At first I thought we had just chance met on the road, as acquaintances do, but the innkeeps, the room?"

"I have been seeking you for a long while, Brienne. I feared to have lost your trail forever, and when I sent ravens to you at Tarth they sent word back that you never came home. I kept asking, kept sending those damn ravens, and each time the answer was the same. So when I finally had word of an enormously tall warrior maiden riding along the Ashtree road I made haste to meet you here."

"And why would you be seeking me?" Brienne asked, "Is there some quest to undertake? Have you come to reclaim Oathkeeper now that both Stark girls have been found? It is yours; it always has been. I would have sent it to you, I did plan to send it to you in truth, but the last word I had of you was that the Kingsguard had been disbanded. I was not sure whether to send it to King's Landing or Casterly Rock."

"A couple of ravens might have gotten you an answer about where to find me. Word of the Kingslayer always spreads like wildfire." Jaime said, watching her. "Would you truly have sent Oathkeeper back without coming to cast it at my feet yourself? It was a gift, my lady, and you would be so craven as to not look upon my face as you rejected it?" Jaime's face had reddened, and his voice was harsh.

"You would have the sword back, what matter if I did not bring it myself?"

Jaime rose from his knees and sat on the bed next to Brienne. He took a steadying breath, "I gave Oathkeeper to you. It was a gift that I had hoped meant something to you. Returning it would wound me enough, but to not come yourself? To not face me and give me your reasons for staying away? It would be cruel as well as craven, and I have never known you to be either of those things." Jaime stared at her, waiting for some explanation from Brienne, who looked back at him in defiance.

"I still do not understand, Jaime. I don't know why you call me cruel, and I don't know why you've gone to so much trouble to find me." Brienne finally said, her gaze dropping from his miserably.

"Brienne," Jaime sighed, leaning toward her on the bed, "you pigheaded, ornery, willful, Wench!" His voice had risen a little, but now it quieted almost to the point of a whisper, "how can you not know that I love you?" and he kissed her softy, pulling back after a few heartbeats to look into her deep blue eyes, wide and shining with unshed tears, gazing back at him in disbelief. Jaime waited, barely daring to breathe until she spoke.

"I...I think I love you, too." And this time she met his lips tentatively with her own. Jaime laid her back on the bed and kissed her as he had always wanted to kiss her, his lips only leaving hers so he could look wonderingly into her eyes, finally seeing some of the sadness start to ease as she realized this was no dream come to torment her.

After a few moments of ever more passionate kisses Jaime sat up, "Wench, help me get this off." He said, holding up his steel hand. Brienne gave a breathless laugh and helped him to undo the complicated series of straps that held it on. For a long while after that they lay on the bed, a tangle of entwined legs and arms, hands exploring each other's bodies through their clothes, kissing and moving together, lost in each other, finally.

Jaime rose and moved between Brienne's thighs, and she opened them wider for him, her long legs along his hips as he rubbed against her, the feel of his cock through their clothes making them both gasp as her hips rose to meet his and their bodies ground against each other again and again. Brienne's head fell back, her lips parted and eyes closed, and Jaime kissed along her throat, making her cry out his name softly. Jaime moved his lips back to hers and, wrapping both arms around her, he rolled them so that Brienne was straddling him. She rocked her hips, moving against his cock, the sensation taking away her breath for a second, only to come back in a moan as she fell forward to claim his mouth again, sucking on his bottom lip before opening her mouth to his tongue.

There was a sudden loud knock at their door that startled them both, and they sprang apart. "What is it?" growled Jaime, propping himself on his elbows.

"Only your tub, Ser, that you requested?" Jenna's voice carried through the door. Jaime rose from the bed, pulling his tunic down and trying to adjust his pants to mask his arousal. Brienne quickly sat in the chair and picked up an empty wine cup, blushing furiously and trying to look as though she had been there for hours. Jaime opened the door to Jenna, who had two boys behind her carrying a large tub between them. Jenna bustled in, directing the boys to place it in the little available space.

"Here it is, just like you wanted, Ser Jaime. I'm afraid all the smaller tubs were bespoke already this evening, so this big one will have to do," she winked broadly at him, "I'll send the boys up with buckets to fill it right away if you're ready."

"Yes, Jenna, thank you," said Jaime, with an appraising look at the tub. It really was nearly big enough for two.

Jenna gave Brienne a dimpled smile, before turning back to Jaime again, and raising her eyebrows merrily. It was obvious the two of them were thoroughly disheveled, and there was little doubt that they hadn't been just sitting and drinking wine. "I'll send a fresh flagon of wine up, shall I? And tell the boys that after the tub is filled you're not to be disturbed again until morning." She looked at Brienne again, "I do hope you like eggs, m'lady, our hens lay some of the finest around." And she backed out the door still smiling.