Title: Weighing the Loss

Rating: PG-13, for a couple references to sex.

Author's Note: Those of you who are in the Jaime/Brienne group on lj will have seen this story already. :) Anyway, I have a feeling I added way too much from the original draft but it was only half its current length to start with and I have no beta to point to things and say "Seriously? Why did you put that in?"

Warnings: Un-edited, couple references to sex... I think that's it. Unless you count the fact that this whole story is about the consequences of a sword hand getting chopped off. But GRRM totally gets credit for that part of this warning.

Disclaimer: This is a nice and fluffy idea and therefore, I'm sure GRRM won't even consider letting it happen. Still, I own nothing.

Sometimes, Jaime sorely missed his sword hand.

While he knew he still commanded some respect, he also knew he no longer got the complete awe (or abject fear) he had been used to getting back when he was just the Kingslayer. His reputation had usually been enough back in the day but when it hadn't been, he'd been able to unsheathe his sword and draw blood if necessary. Now he had a strong suspicion that he was laughed at by some of the men when they were in their cups.

Other times, he would hear reports brought to him of the carnage visited upon some army- sometimes the enemy's, sometimes his own- and would remember days past. Days when he didn't have to feel so guilty for sending men out to die because he would have been right there alongside them, sword flashing in the sun, able to defend as well as attack.

But then... oh, then there were times when he barely registered the absence- if he noticed it at all. Times like when Brienne's body would be flush against him, his lips locked onto that spot just below her ear that always won him a shuddering moan. He didn't need his sword hand to hear that sound. His left hand was certainly appreciated later of course but he knew he could get as much of a reaction from her with his mouth alone. She had long ago convinced him (more through her actions than with words, as she'd never been a great speaker) that she saw him as a whole man, regardless of his appearance or his competence with a sword.

Or times like when his youngest son would cover his eyes and say, "Guess who?" One hand was still good enough to pull his son into his lap and tickle him until he started squealing.

Or times like when he would discover Myrcella and little Sansa asleep near the fire, the former princess still with a book in her hand and her half-sister tucked close to her side. With their eyes closed, he couldn't see that one set was a jaded green and the other a curious blue. Myrcella, he knew, was slowly recovering from all the things she'd seen and lived through and he had a feeling that wouldn't be happening at all without their little Sansa clinging to her skirts. Myrcella's healing, even Sansa's existence, neither of those had required the use of his sword hand.

If he had been allowed to keep his sword hand, he probably would have died on some battlefield. Brienne would probably have died in that bear pit. If he had still saved her from that fate, Cersei would have viewed her as a weakness, at best. At worst, Brienne would have been viewed as competition and eliminated. If he had been allowed to keep his sword hand, he probably wouldn't have lived to see the things that he had seen, to have this family, or to lay down beside Brienne each night feeling completely content. And Jaime knew it.

Yes, there were times when he didn't miss his sword hand at all