The Shadow Queen of Tywin Lannister

CXLVI. The Rains of Castamere

Around the same time...

Jaime was lying on his bed, having retired early from the festivities but he had not done so alone. After naming Brienne a knight, officially, the two of them went for a walk and eventually chose to retreat into his chambers.

One thing brought the other, the small talk led to a spontaneous kiss and eventually, the two of them took it to bed. Usually, Jaime would not be a man to disrespect a woman by taking her maidenhood outside of marriage but Brienne had insisted.

Now that she was a knight, sworn to protect Sansa until her last breath; she was not going to get married and thus she would not sleep with a man. Perhaps that was what had reassured him or the feeling of him actually wishing to sleep with the woman he had started to truly harbour feelings for...

Feelings that were different from the ones he once had for Cersei. Those feelings had long been gone, as did any sexual interest he had for his twin.

Now, he was on his back and Brienne was asleep on his chest. The flames in the fireplace were alive and bright, keeping the room warm as did the warmth coming from the warm springs beneath the castle.

His good hand was wrapped around her upper back, keeping her closed and his green eyes lazily looked ahead; unable to fully sleep but could slowly feel his body relaxing and so was his mind.

The familiar song of Castamere reached all the way to his chambers and he felt the need to scoff upon listening to it. It felt like an ironic thing to happen, a shadowy reminder of his proud Father who would have his other hand cut off if he were to find out that he slept with Brienne.

It did threaten to ruin his good mood and he tried his hardest not to think of the Old Lion, who could never truly be happy for his son. He tried to mute those thoughts but his lips moved on their own accord as he slowly whispered the lyrics to that damned song he had heard so often, one would even question whether he would ever be lucky enough to forget it.

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At the other side of Winterfell...

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Trystan sat on a wooden crate along with the Free Folk and some young sons of Northern Lords. They had all taken their drinks outside around a small fire since the Grand Hall was becoming too overcrowded.

The Half-Lion also had wished to leave, for he knew if he were to stay he would not be able to stop sending looks at Sansa. It was too risky now and he did not wish to make her uncomfortable or put her into a tough position, so he had chosen to leave first.

Much to his luck, Tormund had spotted him and forced him to join them. Yggrite had long left with Jon for his chambers and the Free Folk leader wanted company, while also refusing to let the Half-Lion retreat into his chambers and try to read a book or get some early sleep.

He remained silent, hearing their stories and Tormund's jokes that made him crack a smile here and there. If someone had told his younger self that he would feel more at home surrounded by Northerners and Free Folk from beyond the Wall, he would not have believed them.

Yet, here he was slowly getting to know them better. Even some Northern Lords seemed to appreciate his presence, especially after seeing him sparring with their sons or hanging around with them; being nothing but a respectful young lad.

Eventually, the Castamere song reached them and Trystan pulled a face at the haunting but familiar tone. Because of his reaction and the favouritism of the song, his companions asked him the story behind it.