Sorry fixed it. :)

Eleven years into King Jon's Reign during The Bloodless War.

On Essos' South Western Shore. (Part four-one week later)

….

"Do we have to worry about the Dragon?" Sansa asks, her face flat.

"No." Jon's voice is strong and clear. "We don't."

"You're sure?" She pushes him. "I woke up in the middle of the night worrying about dragon fire."

"I am." He looks straight ahead. "I can swear it to you, I just can't really articulate it to you.

"Can you make me understand?" She pleads.

"Drogon's loyalties don't transfer with Dany's allegiance, it's more primal, instinctual." Jon sniffs. "Besides, it's at peace."

"You can.." She pauses, trying to formulate her words. "Feel it?"

"Sort of?" He gives her a quick shrug. "It's hard to explain."

"My older brother can sense dragons. My sister wears people's faces and my younger brother is some kind of condescending, all seeing, warging dullard." She snorts. He turns to grin at her. "I'm feeling quite bereft of magical abilities right now, Jon."

"I don't know, from what I hear your keeping an infant alive." He reminds her, gesturing to the baby that is wrapped around her in a sling. She smiles at him, stroking her fingers across his fuzzy golden head. "I.. I'm sorry for your loss Sansa."

"Thank you." Her face sets into a small sad smile. "What will we do? About Grey Worm?"

"I haven't the slightest idea." He sighs. "Ser Davos thinks he can speak with him. I'm not sure. I don't understand their logic here? Use the Gish to destroy Essos, then destroy the Gish?"

"Maybe they meant to make it look like it was us? So that the Ghiscari would rise up?" She looks forward again, determined.

"Possibly, but a strong opponent needs good leadership. Destroying that leadership would be doing us a favor." He grunts. "Unfortunately the one person who's opinion on this I would most value is currently occupied."

"He'd surely come if you called for him." Sansa whispered.

"He wouldn't." Jon shook his head. "Have you seen him?"

"The Maesters don't want the baby exposed. In case there is anything that has developed secondary that could potentially harm him." Her hand goes back to the boy's head.

"It's not pretty." Jon lifted his eyes.

"I'd suppose not." She bit her lip. "He's not a strong person, not really."

"He looks worse than her."

Ahead of them, Pod pulls back a tent curtain and they take their place at the treaty table. Tyrion turns and looks at his wife with a smile before pulling the cloak to obscure the baby from view. She lets her fingers slide over his hand as he pulls it away.

…

"Sam!" Jaime's sharp voice shakes the Maester out of the book on Ghiscar he was lost in. "I need you to come." He almost rolls his eyes. SInce moving Brienne from the Maesters tent to their own he's been summoned by Jaime Lannister more times then he has by His Grace in the eleven years he's served King Jon.

"I tried to send your boy, but I couldn't find him." He spits.

"He's with Ser Pod at the negotiations today, remember?"

"That's today?" Jaime runs his hand across his scruffy face. It's been at least a week since he's had any type of hygiene.

"Yes Ser." Sam sighs patiently. "What's the problem?"

"Her breathings changed. It's.. slowed." He swallows. "And her skin is different-." Sam feels a sense of dread building in his gut. Is this the day he's going to have to take the Master of War by the shoulders and tell him it's over? That there is no more fight, there is no miracle about to occur and his wife is going to die? He hopes that she'll last through the negotiations. At least then he can have Arya and Tyrion here. "She's slept the majority of the day."

He ducks into their tent, and makes his way worriedly to the bed. She looks peaceful and for that he's grateful. He's hoping she'll just slip away, sparing her husband the dramatic ugliness death can become. He figures maybe she's the type of person that would do that. He drops to sit on the edge of the mattress, his hand brushing against her face and finding her cool. Not unpleasantly cool, but the easy kind, like a clammy child moments from waking from a nap. He leans forward, listening to her slow even breaths, watching her chest rise and fall. Her pulse thumps steadily at the pads of his fingers. She stirs at his touch, moving languidly, but not waking. Sam squints at her.

"What? What's wrong?" Jaime Lannister rocks back on his heels, his body thrumming with worry and exhaustion.

"She's…" He looks back at the woman, hearing the frantic breathing of her husband behind him. "Better."

….

"I want to be sure we all understand what we're talking about here, Your Highness. I want there to be no misunderstanding between our people. The North wants prolonged peace. My people have lived a decade in war. They have no want for it." The baby makes a squeak at Sansa's belly and she looks down quickly before rearranging him higher, her hand deftly unhooking the wrap of her dress and guiding his head into it with the practiced ease of an experienced mother. She stops to adjust her cloak around him. High Priest Hosanden's disgust is clear on his face.

"You expect me to take your sister seriously as an equal when she brings her child to teat during this?" The man asks Jon, his hand gesturing with a sneer. The King holds his face with it's usual passivity, not saying a word.

"It's not my child, Sir." Sansa continues. "It's my nephew. I'm saddened to say his care has fallen to me because his mother is quite ill. She's two weeks battling the poison plague that wiped out three fourths of your continent."

"Two weeks?" His mouth slips open, despite himself. From every account he's heard, people don't make it two weeks.

"Yes. She's quite strong. And though you have continually mocked my brother for having a woman in charge of his security, I would have you reminded that woman bested your own. She was not about to have us feast on festered boar after all. She managed to save your people as well by unlocking the mystery of where the threat had been hidden. In her spare moments since, she's been giving birth to her son and fighting for her life." She looked back at baby Jon, nestled safely in her arms. "It's the least I can do to feed her infant while we work out the details of the truce she made possible. The least you can do is not allow it to interrupt."

"It's indecent." He snorts.

"I'm sure to some." She blinks. "As Dothraki mating ritual, and the habit of cutting off young boys genitalia to make them better fighters are to us. Different cultures have different decencies. If you are to be a player on the stage with us I suggest that you learn that lesson quickly."

"And what would your husband think of your actions? Or is he simply a handsome slave bound to your castle bed used to sire heirs?" He looks at her irritatedly. Sansa smiles, turning her gaze to left, and Tyrion can't help but snort when he sees her face.

"What do you think of my actions, My Love?" She asks him unblinkingly.

"I find them quite typical of you, My Dear." He says drolly. "However this handsome slave is much more interested in what the High Priest feels is the future of his people, than in what his thoughts are about my wife's bosom or my worthiness as a sire of heirs."

The latest conqueror of Essos looks from Sansa to Tyrion with mild surprise before looking back at Jon.

"On behalf of the Sibling Kingdoms, if we've exhausted your curiosity about my younger sister's form and fertility, perhaps we could return to her question? Just to clear up any ambiguity in our truce before setting out on a joint mission?" Jon ground out, hoping that he could still look forceful beneath his decadent crown.

To his surprise, the High Priest simply nodded.

…..

She awakes to find her husband snoring open mouthed beside her. She can't help but grin.

"Look who decided to join us." Comes Tyrion's smart mouth from a chair near her bed, and she turns to him. Arya looks up from the pieces of the game they've been playing. "Oh good, she hears me! I was worried she'd lost her hearing when his snoring didn't wake her."

"I'm used to it." She reminds him, her mouth stretching into a sly grin. Something's different, she feels lighter. Tired and achy, but somehow stronger than she should. She pulls up slowly, trying not to jostle Jaime, whose hand has taken shelter it's permanent home on her hip. She closes her hand over it to hold it in place as she slides. She takes a deep breath reveling in how easy it feels. "Am I dead?" She's asks, her eyes suspect.

Tyrion laughs, but it's Arya who smirks before answering.

"Not today."

…...

"I think it's a horrible idea." Jaime growls.

"It's not. It's a show of strength." She huffs. "One that I think is necessary, especially after Sansa's little outburst."

"Oh yes. The Snow Queen speaks the truth and there for you have no choice to storm from your sick bed to reassert your dominance after you had the gaul to show volunerablity by having a fucking baby." Jaime snorts. "One you haven't even seen yet, by the way."

"Sam wants to wait just a little while longer, just-."

"Sam is a bloody idiot." He snips.

"Sam kept has kept me alive for the past-."

"Of course he has." Jaime's voice is nearly venomous, he blinks at him.

"Why are you angry at me?" Her voice is puzzled.

"I'm not!" He shouts, before exhaling slowly in surprise. "I'm not." She's frozen, watching him rub his face before slowly standing and dropping his face to hers and kissing her forehead. He doesn't look at her. "Do what you think is best."

"Jaime." She whispers after him as he makes his way to the door.

"I-. I'll be back." He brushes through the flaps of the tent, passing Arya on the way without comment.

"Sorry about that." Brienne whispers at her, the other woman blinks. "He's frustrated, with everything." She swept her hand back and forth in the air dismissively. "You know how he gets when he sits still too long. It's not good to cage a lion."

"So you're still planning on going then?" Arya says softly.

"Of course I am." She sighs, rummaging through the chest next to the bed.

"Of course you are." Arya repeats back to her. Brienne stills, her eyes clicking to the other woman's. "You've been conscious for like 13 hours now. Definitely time to suit up and go off to confront the man wHo nearly wiped out a continent, with you as collateral damage."

"I figured you'd understand better than anyone."

"I do." Arya looks at the floor for a second before huffing uncharacteristically and dropping into the nearby chair. "You're just wrong."

Brienne lifts one eyebrow with a dangerously amused smirk on her lips.

"Enlighten me, oh Wise One." She purrs.

"How much do you remember?" Arya whispers.

"Very little." Brienne looks away with a grimace.

"He remembers every last second." Arya reminds her. "It wasn't pretty. He didn't fair well."

"He's stronger than he seems." Brienne assured her.

"Not with you." The younger woman shook her head. "With a lot of things, yes. But not with you."

"I'm okay. I'm going to be okay." She reminds her. "He'll be okay too, and the sooner things get back to normal-."

"This is why I'm not the Lady of Storm's End." Arya tells her, like it makes perfect sense.

"Because Jaime likes to sulk?"

"Because I'd be the same way. I'd want to charge back into battle and I'd be too afraid of looking weak to see my husband needed me more than I needed revenge." She shook her head again, her braid swinging. "I'd probably forget about my baby too."

"I have not forgotten about my-."

"That's where he is, you know." She tells her. "Holding the baby. It's why I'm here. It's why I've been here at this time every day since the day after I stood over there and watched him and Gilly wrestle the little thing out of you." She points to the spot where she stood. "Because he wants to hold the baby, but he didn't want you to be alone. So I'd come." She shrugs. "And I could never have been the Lady of Storm's End because I couldn't possibly stand the responsibility of having anyone love me as much as Jaime loves you."

"Jaime will be fine." Brienne says softly. "This is not the first time we've argued about my work and it won't be the last, but he knows who I am. He's always known." She looks at Arya soundly. "Just as the Lord of Storm's End knows who you are."

Arya's feet scuff the dirt floor.

"But you've made your point." She smiles at the younger woman, laying her hand on her shoulder as she walks by. "Thank you, for being there for him."

…..

Brienne finds Jaime asleep on Sansa and Tyrions bed. His legs stretched out in front of him and the tiniest infant she has ever seen laying against his bare chest and a fur covering the two of them He has the same shock of blonde hair that each of her boys have had.

"They're both exhausted." Sansa whispers from the table, pressing her needle into her fabric and pulling it back out again. "It's been a long few weeks."

"It has, Your Grace." Brienne murmurs, her eyes on the steady wrinkle of Jaime's brow, even in his sleep.

"I've been taking your child to my breast, Brienne, I think we can skip the honorifics." She smiles. "I hear you want to go to Naath?"

"Arya has already made me feel like a horrible person, Good Sister. You may refrain." The Lord Commander sighs as she drops her shoulders.

"Good." Sansa blinks at her. "Then kindly take your husband and your hungry little babe and leave me be." Breinne raises an eyebrow in surprise, Sansa pretends not to notice, her eyes returning to her fabric.

"Samwell thinks it's best-."

"Samwell said repeatedly, the two of you were as good as dead." She looked back up at her. "He's not really an expert in these matters. My dear brother seemed to have things well in hand. Now remove him from my sight."

"Yes. Your Grace." Brienne teases, watching the edges of the Snow Queen's lips rise just a little. She crosses the room to Jaime, laying one hand tentatively on her son's tiny round head. "Hello there." She whispers, carefully extracting him from his father's arm. Jaime's left hand clutches at the air as Brienne raises the babe up to study him, her husband's eyes snapping open at the loss. "Look at you. Aren't you just the spitting image of your father."

"He has your eyes." Jaime's voice is thick with sleep and Brienne finds it makes her want to cry. She pulls him to her chest, and he makes a tiny little mewling sound that makes her breasts ache. She runs her fingers into Jaime's hair and he swallows back a whimper.

"Come on." She says softly. "Let's give the queen back her chambers."

….

In the end, it's decided Arya will go to Naath and both sets of Lannisters prepare to return to the Narrow Sea to the Snow Queen's private boat, a gift from Yara Greyjoy for Sansa's corniation, headed for the Rock to collect their cubs.

Brienne and Jaime are bickering about how soon is too soon to return to King's Landing when Pod pokes his head into their tent.

"Lord Commander? High Priest Hosanden would like a word." He tells her, his brown eyes wide as saucers. Jaime's back goes rod straight and he reaches the baby out towards Pod, and hands her Oathkeeper, despite the fact she's in an azure blue tunic dress and her hair is loose and in her face. She looks at him like he's insane, but finds herself strapping on the scabbard just the same.

He's at least dressed if not armed, she should have put the damn sword on him.

Jaime makes his way to the flap, giving a slight bow before opening the tent to the Ghishcari.

"Your Highness." He mumbles.

"Master Lannister." He bows slightly. "Your King told me I'd find his Lady Lord here."

"You will." He says softly, looking over his shoulder at his wife.

"I was informed you weren't going to be traveling to Naath with us." He informs Breinne with a crisp formality.

"My duties require me elsewhere, Your Highness." She tells him, giving Jaime the ghost of a smile. He nods.

"I didn't want to leave without issuing thanks on behalf of my people, for the role you have played in our survival."

"It was nothing." She tells him, causing her husband to scoff and Pod to snort. The baby lets a lusty yell when he does and Brienne finds herself turning towards them, her arms reaching out for her child. The High Priest watches her with interest as Pod hands him over.

"That's not how your people tell it." He sniffs, and she blushes in that lushious way she has that makes Jaime's insides stir.

"I'm concerned their fear for my life may have caused them to amplify my heroics a bit, Sir."

"You are, as far as we know, the only one to survive the poison. I'd say that's worth some amplification."

"Thank you, Your Highness."

"Your boy?" She nods, holding Jon to her chest. "He is also well?"

"He is." She smiled, turning him outward.

"I wish nothing but peaceful partnerships between our people for his lifetime, and beyond it." The man tells her softly, nodding at the boy.

"That is our wish as well." Jaime says softly, as the man turns slowly towards him.

"I look forward to our future correspondence then Master Lannister." He sighs.

"I'll be in touch Your Highness." Her husband smiled, following the man and his people out of the tent.

"Next time perhaps We'll come to Westeros." He tells Jaime

"We'd love to receive you, Sir." He blinks, watching the Gish descend the hill and disappear into the sea of tents.

….

It takes two weeks to get to Casterly Rock and by the time they pull in to Lannisport they've caught sight of the children on the shore. Any thoughts of Kings, Kingsguard or Kings Landing has gone from Brienne's mind completely when Ren has hopped over the barricade and climbed his father like a tree before he's even off the docking ramp. And Jaime Lannister has collapsed on the ground clutching the little boy to him, his flesh fingers splayed out against his unruly blond curls.

After her father has taken the babe from her and Ty and Tom have come to greet her Jaime sits in the sand with his boy examining his missing teeth and running his hand across his freckled face.

The wildlings have found their parents and Sansa is sobbing as she clutches the twins to her and suddenly Brienne isn't sure she ever wants to return to King's Landing again.

She sees that for the first time Tyrion is looking up at his oldest girl and her heart clenches, as he reaches to push a stray lock behind her ear and she leans forward into his embrace.

She catches Jaime's gaze as he stands pulling Ren's legs around his waist to hug Tomsyl to him while Ty is examining his newest little brother like his is a work of art and her husband clasps his hand on his shoulder, pressing his lips together tightly while soft wrinkles and creases surrounding his green cat like eyes that wouldn't dare look away from hers and she relishes for just a minute that they are the Lannisters of Casterly Rock and they are home.