Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thanks for sticking around!

To Coque: Well, I'm glad that I won't get your cardiologist's bill. I don't know if I can promise romance straight away, but we will definitely get to see more of Jaime and Brienne finding back together ;) With Tyrion, I can't spoiler yet what happened to him or will happen to him ;)

I hope you'll enjoy this one ;)

And so, Brienne and Jaime find themselves on familiar yet unfamiliar paths as they wade through the woods.

Brienne was honestly relieved when Jaime gave her some breeches he was smart enough to bring along, and a more fitting tunic for her to wear.

That is how she feels most comfortable, however comfortable you can be while on the run – with child.

They mostly walk on in silence, Brienne occasionally grunting, and Jaime asking her repeatedly if she needs to take a rest, something she stubbornly denies of course.

Though at some point Jaime is honestly glad for the routine to fall back into. Brienne seems to be not more tensed than she is by nature, so for as long as she is annoyed at him, she seemingly doesn't hate him as much as she probably does.

Yet, the priority at this point is clearly on making sure that they aren't killed on their quest.

The rest will have to wait until later.

"Alright, I need a break," Jaime exhales at last, stopping in his tracks. Brienne rolls her eyes at him – she is smart enough to know that he tries to get his will to make her take a reset – even though she does not need it.

"The last time you did that, we had a sword fight, you know?" she says as she settles down begrudgingly. Jaime chuckles softly.

It's not the same as it was back when they were on their trip to King's Landing, but Jaime takes what he can get.

"I think I still owe you my thanks," she says, pulling Jaime out of his thoughts.

"If it's about me getting you out of the settlement, then…," Jaime means to argue, but she interrupts him before he gets to it, "I mean for… this."

She points at the black chest plate and mail she wears. While she doesn't bother to wear the full armour, it's better to have a few pieces on in case someone attacks them. The assault on the ship taught her painfully well that it takes just one strike in the right spot to dim the lights inside her head.

"Tyrion said that you had it made for me," she goes on uncertainly, her lips curling into a frown.

"The little devil," Jaime shakes his head with a grin.

Of course Tyrion did the opposite of what his older brother asked him for.

Of course he would tell Brienne about this despite the fact that the older brother told him otherwise.

The little demon.

Gods, he misses him.

Jaime just hopes that his brother was somehow swift enough with his tongue to talk himself out of the situation, though Jaime finds it unlikely at some point. Why would they want to leave Tyrion alive if they have someone to blame with Brienne? It seems more likely that they disposed of him so Sansa is "free" of the Lannisters.

But still, Jaime hopes. Tyrion always tends to surprise him, so why not one more time, right?

"So, ugh, thank you," Brienne says, licking her lips nervously.

"It's nothing," Jaime exhales.

Because he knows it is.

It didn't protect her from any of this here.

An armour doesn't offer protection beyond an enemy's blow. It is powerless against nature, against the japes of misfortune.

Against the power of words.

Those reach past any armour, right into soft flesh.

"I hope I got the measurements right," Jaime grimaces. "I told the blacksmith to make it fit even with a bigger stomach."

"Thank you," Brienne repeats.

"Speaking of which, I got something else for you," Jaime says before he goes for his sword belt to retrieve one of his swords he then holds out to Brienne. She frowns, uncertainly taking the sword from him. Golden hilt, beyond richly ornamented, a lion's head in all detail for a pommel… She pulls the sword out of the sheath a bit to see the blade, gaping, eyes sparking, "Valyrian steel."

She only heard about them, but never did she hold one in her hands.

"Mhm," he hums.

One of the few gifts he found worth keeping – and now worth giving.

"It's yours," he goes on. Brienne stares at him, her blue eyes almost exploding as her breath hitches, "I, I can't accept that, no."

"Yes, you can," Jaime argues. "It's wasted on me at this point, because I can hardly wield a sword. Such a fine blade should be wielded by someone who can actually execute the task, and of us two, that's you. So you should have it. It was reforged from Ned Stark's sword. Now it'll be used to defend his daughter. I find that only right. So you'll take it."

"… I don't feel comfortable accepting that," she argues vehemently.

"Take it as a small act of redemption if that makes you feel better," Jaime shrugs. "And don't fret, I don't expect anything in return."

Brienne puckers her lips into a frown.

"And in any case, aren't you familiar with what a present is after all?" he says, echoing her words from a time in King's Landing when everything was not in pieces yet, when Jaime learned that kindness can come even from something as simple as a bit of silverware to use to cut his dinner.

Brienne grimaces, running her finger over the broad side of the blade, making the steel sing beneath her touch. Jaime is right, isn't he? It's a gift, perhaps the most wonderful gift someone has ever made her.

"I… uhm… thank you," she mutters.

"Once again, it's nothing. It would simply be a waste on me," Jaime sighs.

Brienne tears her head around suddenly, "Someone's coming."

Jaime pricks his ears, and in fact he can hear a few men busily chatting, riding on horses, or at least mules. Brienne puts the sword back in the sheath, hastily wrapping the belt around her waist as both get to their feet. They make their way further into the woods, trying to make as little noise as possible.

"I told you," she mutters.

"Yeah, yeah," he huffs. "You got a fancy sword, so leave me be."

"Hey! You two over there!"

Brienne growls at Jaime. Both turn on the heel to see three men approaching, after they got off their mules.

"Good day to you, Ser," Jaime greets the three men in an overly cheerful manner.

"What are ye doing here all by yourselves?" one of them asks.

"Oh, we are just on our way to Fawton," Jaime replies quickly. "We've visited her family over in Felwood."

"Yeah, I bet. Let's make this quick. Ye give us all you have on you that's of value, and we may spare your lives," the man says, fingers wrapped around the sword, the others copying his movement.

"We don't have anything of value on us other than the horse, maybe, and that thing is old and stubborn as a mule," Jaime argues.

"Do ye want to play with us, really?" the man asks, retrieving his sword and wriggling it right before Jaime. He leans back slightly, though he doesn't drop his grin, "My friend, I'd appreciate it very much if you did not do that. I have a bad back, so bending backwards is not the best position for me."

"I don't care, just give us whatever you have on you," the man with the sword to his throat barks.

"Fine, fine," Jaime sighs. "Just let me get my pouch, alright? Hey!"

He whips his head around as one of the men wavers his dagger in front of Brienne, only inches from her body, "I just said that I'll give it to you!"

"We actually don't need you alive, ay? Then we can take everything," the other man missing a tooth muses, coming closer to Brienne with the pointy end of his dagger.

Things simply jump into motion after that. Jaime pushes the man in front of him away, using his metal hand as he draws his sword with his left.

It still doesn't feel right with this hand, at all.

Jaime just hopes that the surprise will be enough to buy him a small advantage, but to his dismay surprise doesn't help a poor aim and the speed of a snail, so the man who threatened Brienne only has to push back on the heel to strike back. Jaime manages to parry somehow, but when the man draws another dagger, Jaime has to realise that surprise really doesn't work as a plan.

Jaime can't help the cry as the man slashes his right arm with one of the daggers. Jaime means to lunge forward and simply wrestle the man to the ground, but that is when he hears the sound of steel, the old war song, and a blade whooshes past his head, solidly connecting with the man's side, the blade easily breaking through cloth and flesh. The man shrieks in pain, still staring at Brienne as she wields the sword expertly, as though the Valyrian steel was an extension of her arm. Brienne whirls around at once and strikes the man Jaime just knocked over with his metal hand, before she take out the one man left, who is seemingly still too shocked at the sight of a pregnant woman swinging her sword at him with such perfection.

Brienne breathes through her nose as she wipes the blood off of the sword before she puts it back into its sheath. Jaime gets up with a grunt, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she replies simply. "I was not the one who was… defeated."

Jaime licks over his teeth, but decides to bite down the comment that means to escape his lips. Because she is right, had she not stepped in, he would have lost.

"We should better head further into the woods," he says.

"What about your arm?" she questions, and if Jaime is not mistaken, there is an edge of worry in her voice as she eyes the crimson staining his shirt.

"That can wait until later. It's not too deep, I think. We are still too close to the usual paths, as it appears," Jaime says as he gathers his sword – and whatever is of value that the men have on them.

"Do we really have to take their things?" she asks with a grimace.

Not that she feels pity for them, but Brienne knows that Jaime took with him quite a bit of money so they don't have to worry about that matter at least.

"It's better to leave folks under the impression that there are robbers around – and not some crazy murderers," Jaime replies. "And robbers take the money."

"We should hide them," Brienne makes a face.

"We'll pull them into the ditch over there," Jaime says, nodding at the ditch little away from them. The task is carried out quite fast, just as it is to cover them in leaves to make it not obvious that three men were just killed, in case someone comes looking for these bastards by any chance, though Jaime reckons not.

"Let's go," he says, straightening up. Brienne nods curtly before they start their way deeper into the woods, hoping that robbers won't roam around the deeper parts of the forest.

At last they find a nicely secluded place behind a small ridge to make camp for the nearing night. Jaime sighs as he settles down once they have set up the necessary things.

He frowns once Brienne towers above him, tilting her head at him, "Take off your shirt."

"Oh, wench, that's a bold move," he snorts, amused, but Brienne is having none of it, "Just do it, before I change my mind and just kick you after all."

Jaime shrugs out of his jacket and tunic with a wince, some of the blood already caked to the fabric. Brienne sits down next to him. Because of her growing stomach, she has to sit rather awkwardly next to him, and perhaps closer than she feels comfortable with. Brienne shakes her head. Now is not the time for such things.

Brienne extends her long fingers to inspect the gash, which is still lazily oozing blood. She pulls the last tatters of cloth away as carefully as she can.

"I think we should stitch that," she grimaces. "It's pretty deep after all."

Brienne turns slightly to reach for a small leather pouch. She starts to dig through it while holding out a leather drinking bag out to Jaime. He takes the uncapped bag to let some of the content drop into his mouth, his mouth curling into a grimace, "Blegh. That's strong."

"It has more alcohol in it, which means that it works better for wounds," Brienne replies. "The healer gave me some things to keep in my room after she had wandered off for a few days to gather herbs and the like. In case something was wrong or so. She didn't take it from me again. I reckon she wanted me to have it anyway."

Brienne takes the bag back to pour some of its content over the gash. Jaime grits his teeth. The blonde woman then takes out a threaded needle from her small leather pouch and starts to stitch his wound, her hands steady, the stitches accurate from years of self-administered patching up.

Brienne only trusted a healer at best, and even those she observed with careful eyes, but never a fellow sword when she still served under Renly. One can never know what they'd want in return for that bit of service. So Brienne learned very early on to patch herself up.

Jaime tries his best not to wince, though sometimes he can't help it when it pulls on the torn skin too much.

"We will stay away from the towns and roads further from now on," she grimaces, her eyes fixed on his arm as she continues with her work. "We can't have that happening all the while. Leaving a trail of bodies behind is not smart either."

"I reckon that this would be for the best, yes," Jaime agrees.

"I still ask myself how you ever managed to overpower the investigators – with such a performance," Brienne blurts out saying, though Jaime knows that she doesn't mean it much as an offence, but simply as something she can't figure out.

"I had the element of surprise on my side," Jaime shrugs.

"The next time something like that happens, you should just duck for cover and let me handle it… and now don't come me with 'you are pregnant'. You didn't stand a chance against them, let's face it," Brienne argues.

"No, I didn't, which is not at all helpful for the ego…," Jaime huffs.

"They could have killed you, and dead you are no use," Brienne says, not looking at him, before she goes on in a lighter tune, or rather one that doesn't hold as much emotion within. "We have to be careful, especially if we have to keep away from bigger towns most of our time. If this wound gets infected, you'll perish, that is unless I drag you to town, and then we both might perish, for as long as it's around King's Landing."

"So let's hope it doesn't get infected," Jaime winces as she wraps his wounds with fast movements.

"Hope doesn't buy us anything," she argues solemnly.

"In fact not," Jaime sighs.

"That should hold," Brienne says as she finishes the knot.

"Thank you," Jaime says.

"It's nothing," she replies, giving a curt nod. "Just… don't do such reckless things again."

"I will certainly try," he tells her as he pulls the tunic back over his shoulder with a grimace. "Though I can't make any guarantees. I'm a fool of a man after all."

"And I am a fool of a woman, so we have to make the smartest decisions possible," Brienne shrugs as she gets up to wash her hands off of his blood.

"Well, let's just hope that the cub won't be as much of as a fool as we are," Jaime huffs.

"Oh, Gods forbid," Brienne makes a face. "But at least we are two fools with a bloody marvellous sword. Had I struck harder, I think I would have cut the man in half."

"I saw that as well, much to my own surprise. It's one thing to hear about the effectiveness of Valyrian steel, another to witness it first-hand," Jaime agrees.

"It is one of its kind," Brienne says, but then bites her lower lip.

"Just say it," he tells her, making the tall woman frown at him, so he goes on to explain, "I know that face you make. You want to say a touchy thing, but contemplate with yourself if it doesn't go too far. So just go ahead. I won't hold any grudges, for I am in no position to."

"You shouldn't try to play hero," she says eventually. "That won't get you anything other than a fast death."

If he thinks that this will make her forget, then… but it doesn't matter. Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter.

"I wasn't playing hero, I was trying to protect you," he argues. "Though of course I failed miserably at the task, I know, but that was my intention."

"You shouldn't do that," Brienne replies.

"Well, that will be hard to simply let go, I reckon, but just to say it once more, my motive is not to play hero. I know that I am anything but that. If at all, I will do my best to earn your trust again," he goes on.

"Earn my trust again?" she repeats, cocking an eyebrow at him.

He knows that this is a word she doesn't use easily – and it is something he still broke, knowing its fragility.

"You need someone to rely on, and at this point, there is just me available, sorry. You can't fight the world all alone, Brienne. You need someone to have your back… and I know how comedic it sounds coming from a backstabber like me, but… I am willing to work for it so that someone like me can have your back without you constantly checking it. So yes, I'm trying to earn your trust again, with however much success that will be now," he tells her. "But I'm enough of a mule to try again and again. I think I brought enough proof for my apparent stubbornness already."

They go on in silence for a while until Brienne speaks up again, "Do you miss King's Landing?"

Jaime blinks, focusing his eyes on her. He didn't expect her to tackle that issue so early on.

"No," he says, fully aware that it's not King's Landing they are talking about, but the woman in that city who had him in her fangs all the while.

"Well, homesickness only comes once you are gone for a longer while, I reckon," she mutters. Jaime means to say something in return, but she is quicker, "I will see about some firewood. You stay here. I'll keep within eavesdrop."

"… Alright," he grunts.

Well, so much to that…

The next day, Jaime busies himself going over the maps another time. He wants to be sure that they travel the right direction. Because walking on aimlessly is anything but what they need. While they will have to jump back and forth to hide from others, they have to keep the general direction – and be aware of what towns they will come across.

Jaime is pulled out of his thoughts when suddenly, a sword in its sheath is thrusted against his chest.

"Hey!" he curses at Brienne, who only rewards him with a grunt.

"Get up," she says, her jaw a straight line.

"Why?" Jaime demands. He knows in fact that he didn't say anything nasty to her. They barely spoke more than five words this morn.

"You are useless," she says, nudging against his shoulder, seemingly to make him move.

"I beg your pardon?" he makes a face.

"You are useless," she repeats.

"Well, thank you, I suppose?" Jaime frowns.

"Get up," Brienne says once more.

"State your intention and not just commands followed by accusations, my lady. I have quite a trouble catching on to what you are trying to tell me," Jaime replies, cocking an eyebrow at her.

"You can't wield your sword properly enough to be of any use in battle. Yesterday showed it," she explains.

Jaime looks to the side.

Yet another burden on his shoulders.

Another burden of shame and inability.

Just how long does it take until his last bit of honour is swept away by the sea?

"Well, I'm down a hand. That makes wielding a sword a little difficult," he huffs. "You may have noticed."

"So get up," she tilts her head to the side.

Brienne made up her mind – and is now set on carrying out the task.

After all, she is a bullhead, too.

And no matter how much she hates it, a truth was spoken by the campfire, a truth she fears she has to act upon no matter how much she would rather run the other direction.

There is just ahead.

"To do what?" he demands.

"Act like a man again," Brienne says with determination in her voice.

"I am trying to stay nice, dearest, but you make it incredibly difficult at times such as these," Jaime sighs, but Brienne is absolutely serious, "Train, learn to use your left hand better than your right."

"That's easier said than done, darling," Jaime snorts. She pulls him up by the collar, "Come."

"Truly a lady," Jaime chuckles. Brienne takes up one of the swords they took from the men who attacked them for herself – after all, she wouldn't mean damage to the marvellous sword Jaime gave her – and holds it in her left, too.

"Look, if you want to hit me once more, then just do it," Jaime rolls his eyes. She hit him a few times, if not very hard, ever since they started their quest. Not that this is something Jaime isn't used to. While he knows this woman capable of soft and tender moves, she can be quite brutal otherwise.

"No, not this time," she replies.

"So?" he cocks an eyebrow at her, waiting for an explanation.

"I ask you to learn to become the second best sword fighter in the world," Brienne says.

"Second?" he makes a face.

"There's still me," she shrugs.

"Ah, but I am sorry to deceive your hopes: I cannot wield the sword the way I used to. I am literally missing a hand," Jaime argues.

"And that is why you will train, with me," Brienne replies simply. "It's as you said yesterday night. There is just you and I, so I am the only one available for you who can train with you."

"Aha," he curls his lips.

"I will learn to wield the sword with my left hand the same way. If I can learn it, then so can you," Brienne goes on.

"If you think that this will motivate me in some way, then…," he means to say, but Brienne is quick enough to interrupt him, "No, I only demand from you what I demand from myself. If I can learn it, then I can tell you to learn it, too. If a woman can learn it, then the former Lord Commander should have little trouble. It's just that simple."

"Your logic is unbeatable at times," Jaime huffs, if amused.

"I ask you to take that seriously," she hisses, her eyes suddenly on fire.

"Take what seriously?" Jaime asks, the grin fading from his face at once.

"To relearn the arts of wielding the sword," Brienne says. "You say you are useless, and at this point you are useless in battle. But the thing is that people can change something about the circumstance of being useless if they try just hard enough. You can stop being useless if you make yourself something of use again. For that, you only need a purpose – and the will to work for its fulfilment."

Jaime looks at her, stunned, so she goes on, "You say you want to protect us, the cub and me. And I believe you that. So that's your purpose. I can protect myself most of the time about alright, but… I had to realise that I may not always be able to protect the cub. You are right with what you said yesterday… I can't do it all alone. So that's where you come in, where you have to come in, to… have my back. So if you mean it with any sincerity that you want to stop being useless, then be of use again, for the cub's sake already. And you can make yourself useful if you know how to protect it with this."

She nods at the sword.

That is the language she speaks.

That is the one language Brienne always understands.

And at some point, it is the one language she feels safe with communicating through.

"Brienne," Jaime means to say something, but she doesn't let him, "You said that you'd try to earn my trust again. So take that chance to get some of it back."

Jamie just looks at her, biting the inside of his cheek.

Her logic isn't just unbeatable – it beats right on-target.

"So take up the sword," she says again.

"You are…," Jaime nods at her stomach, and Brienne completes, "Wearing the armour you gave me, and another cushion in case your aim is that badly off. And rest assured, each time you hit me close to there, I will hit you in turn, a lot worse, so that it doesn't happen again. So, take up the sword and get in position."

Jaime finds his mouth flexing into a smile, "Yes, my lady."

And so they get to work, to use.