This piece was inspired by LionessoftheNight's beautiful fanart ( post/170153514400/j-b-alyda-of-the-rock-every-warrior-has-scars). The name of Jaime and Brienne's daughter belongs to LionessoftheNight.
She found her sitting in the grass, clothes dirty, eyes cast down, a slight cut near her right temple. The small wooden sword lying beside her. Jaime had never been very fond of the idea of their daughter running around with a wooden sword at such a young age, but the smile on her face and the gleam that lit her eyes when Brienne gifted it to her had convinced him to let her keep it, provided that she would always play with it under watchful eyes.
It was pure luck that she had been the one to go to her after their weekly training session in the yard. Had he been the one to find her first, he would have blown it unnecessarily out of proportion, and of course, he would have made a very subtle remark on how he had been right all along and she, of course, wrong. She rolled her eyes in annoyance at the mere thought.
She looked down at her daughter, who was stubbornly trying to hold back the tears that filled her eyes and threatened to run down her cheeks.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" she asked.
Alyda shook her head, a sulky expression on her little face.
"I just want you to know that I am not mad, but you disobeyed. So I need you to promise me you will never go play without permission again or I will have to take the sword back. Do you understand?" Her child silently nodded, and Brienne let out a soft sigh: if her and Jaime's past histories were any indication, she was going to grow as headstrong and rebellious as ever. She looked at her for a long moment, then tried to crouch down as much as her armour allowed and extended her arms to her. "Come here." Alyda rose to her feet and slowly walked into her mother's embrace, letting her strong arms delicately wrap around her.
Brienne inspected the cut, confirming it was nothing serious, as she had first assessed.
"You've always wanted a scar, but now that you've got your first one you don't seem so pleased." She teased as she slowly stood up with her, her daughter still refusing to look her in the eyes, brow furrowed above her big blue ones.
"Does it hurt, my love?" Alyda stubbornly shook her head, but a big teardrop finally escaped down her plump rosy cheek as she tried to hide her face in her mother's shoulder.
Brienne pretended not to see it. Isn't she a stubborn little one, she thought, her lips softly brushing against her daughter's temple. "Let's go tend to your wound, shall we?" she told her gently, walking them both towards the yard she had come from. "But first," she added with a hint of amusement, "let's watch your father fret a little."