She was surprised to find Jaime waiting at the gates, sharpening his blade with a whetstone. She had thought he would spend most of the day recovering from their harrowing sea journey. He had slept little; the dark circles beneath his eyes were evidence of that. His expression soured as he noticed Hyle Hunt trailing behind her. The glowering look he gave the man and the ferocity in which he dragged his blade across the stone were clearly intended to be silent threats, the shushing sound made by his actions echoed out beyond the drawbridge.

"Wife," He greeted her as she strolled towards him across the bridge, an edge to his words.

"Husband," She didn't have time for his anger, and was anxious to find this woman. She continued past Jaime and marched straight through the gates. Turning to Hunt she demanded, "Where is she?"

"You father's quarters My Lady." Hunt replied. That piece of knowledge enflamed Brienne's anger more.

She pushed her way past several confused servants, hurriedly making her way down the halls; climbing the curved stone steps towards her father's rooms, she shoved open the door, the great oaken wood smashing against the stone wall, her hand on the hilt of her sword ready to unsheathe her blade.

The woman was stretched out in her father's bed, a half eaten plum in her palm, at the sight of Brienne she clambered out and screamed, she threw the plum to the side, her hands flailing out in front of her face, an attempt to protect herself. Brienne drew her sword making her way to the corner where the wretched woman was pressed against the wall.

The woman let out a scream as Brienne closed in, "No! I am with his child!"

Brienne with sword raised felt the fire go out of her, like someone had extinguished a torch.

The woman slid down the wall clutching her legs to her chest, her face a mess of tears and anguish. "Mercy! Please! Mercy!"

Brienne backed away towards the door, sickened by what she had almost done. Hunt stood at the door wide eyed. Brienne pushed past him. "I want her out of this room. I do not care where, but I want her out of here!"

Jaime stood at the bottom of the stairwell, his bitter expression softened at the sight of her distress.

"Brienne what is it?" Jaime caught her in his arms as she clumsily climbed down the last few stairs. Her eyes blurred with tears.

Brienne shook her head, unable to speak, he held her, shushing into her ear, "I'm here... I'm here."

She had wanted to be home for so long, and in her final few days at Evanfall Hall she found she couldn't wait to escape the complexities of having her father's murderer under her roof. Her vengeance stolen due to a little sister or brother trapped in the womb of that vile servant to Cersei. Jaime had proven to be right in his insistence of coming along with her, and in her heart she was glad he had. When she grieved as a girl in days past it had always been in solitude, it was strangely wonderful to have someone to soothe her with caresses and kind words. His comfort and affections were welcomed, but he had also proven to be helpful in organizing the men and supplies they needed in a scant amount of time. He commanded respect, and was a natural leader amongst the men. Qualities Brienne admired in Jaime, and knew she sorely lacked.

When matters had been settled, they pushed away from Tarth with their small army. The waters were blessedly calmer on their journey back to the mainland, and Brienne was thankful for Jaime's sake. She watched her home vanishing in the distance, wondering if it would be for the last time.

If we die at war, there may yet be an heir... Brienne said a prayer to the Mother, hoping the child within the womb would be strong and healthy. A prayer that Evanfall Hall would have a son to carry on, bastard or not, he would have the best claim, and the babe was an innocent in the ugliness created by Cersei Lannister. With Jaime beside her she found the prospects of war and whatever may face them all the more surmountable, he squeezed her hand tightly, and she returned his affections with a gentle kiss.

There was a war to fight, and if Tyrion's words were to be believed, they had little time to organize themselves in defense of the realm. They had been making good and steady progress north; within a few days they hoped to meet on the fields outside of Riverrun. If all had gone well with Sansa she may have been able to quell the rebels of the Riverlands, and perhaps if luck was with them, convince them to join the cause.

The weather had decidedly turned colder and more tumultuous since leaving Tarth, where once they could expect a snow every third day, there seemed to be a storm daily. One morning it stormed so badly they were forced to halt and set up camp midday, the sun completely darkened by grey clouds, the blustery wind created a veil of snow so thick Brienne could scarcely see the tent set up next to theirs. Inside she spied the canvas of the tent blowing so violently she was afraid it would not stand. Naked as her name day she curled up under the furs with Jaime, feeling a little guilty for the others who were alone in their own tents.

"There is something I've been meaning to give you," Jaime whispered to her. His breathe deliciously tickling the hairs at her neck.

Brienne looked at him with questioning eyes, as he grabbed her gift from beneath their bed, he laid it between them on top of the furs, and it was wrapped in a dark velvet cloth. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart beat quickly. She lifted the cloth with her finger tips, knowing in her heart what it was before her eyes could look upon it. Oathkeeper...

"How?" She asked, her eyes not moving from the strange beautiful weapon.

"It is your sword Brienne, much more than it was ever mine. I want you to have it back."

"No, this is your sword. I have the Sapphire Star." Brienne insisted.

"I want you to take it, when you wield it, it will be like I am with you." Jaime kissed her sweetly on the lips, extinguishing any of her arguments.

"You must take my sword then. I would like to believe that I am with you too, whatever may happen."

Jaime smiled back at her, seeming to like the idea.

"There is something else. I hope you like it." His green eyes seemed uncertain.

"Jaime its freezing!" Brienne protested, as he climbed from the warmth of their bed. As much as she had urged him not to leave their bed, she could help but enjoy the reward of his naked muscled form. Gods he is a beautiful man…

From the far corner of their tent he pulled a cloth off a large shield and held it before her. On the shield painted in the azure and magentas of her house a large blue lion of Lannister lay central, surrounded by white moons and yellow star bursts.

Brienne stared at the shield for a long time, admiring the crest.

"Well do you like it?" Jaime asked. "Speak quick woman! It's cold!"

"I do. It is very well done" Brienne's voice broke with emotion, her words felt woefully inadequate.

"Thank the Gods you like it." Jaime unceremoniously dropped the shield and hurried back into bed.

Brienne shivered as his cold skin pressed against hers. They wrapped their arms around each other, tenderly kissing, willing the cold away.

"I want to have banners made." Jaime said smiling.

Brienne played with his hair in her fingers. "I think that is brilliant Jaime. I was afraid you would be disappointed with Tarth."Disappointed with me... She was afraid that her meager home wouldn't be enough for him, she knew she made a strange wife, one who others surely pitied him for, but at least he had had Casterly Rock. Stripped of his title, she couldn't help but feel guilt and regret for his diminishment in the eyes of others, it was a thought she had felt burdened with since Sansa had negotiated his home away from him.

Jaime sat up, his green eyes flaring with anger. "You and Tarth are not a minor prize. I will not have you disparaging it, or yourself." Jaime's eyes narrowed on hers, "Never speak ill of our home or of yourself in my presence again."

Brienne nodded, and in an attempt to quell his anger she reached for him, pulling him towards her. When their lips met she could feel the rigidness caused by the flare of his temper. Brienne desperate to take them back to the sweet place they had been, to show him what his words meant to her, pulled him in closer, kissed him harder, opened her mouth more and accepted his tongue heartedly.

She pressed back with as much force as he delivered; her hands went to the sides of his face, fingertips brushing the scruff of his unshorn beard. In their love making Jaime had always been the aggressor, building her quiet passion as if stoking a fire, enjoying her as the flames of her desire grew with each kiss and caress he delivered.

Brinne firmly but gently pushed him down as she maneuvered her naked body on top of him. She had never been so brazen as to make love to him this way, she did her best to ignore the feelings of doubt growing inside her, and she forced her eyes to watch his drink her in. The expression he wore was one of surprise, as she guided his cock inside her, his surprised grin dissolved, he bit his lip, closed his eyes and threw his head back, the apple of his throat rising and falling with each inhalation and exhalation. Brienne quickened her pace; he lifted his head up to watch her as she rode him, finding she no longer cared that his green eyes were drinking in her naked form. Jaime's left hand squeezed her thigh, willing her to slow. Brienne refused, enjoying having this control over his pleasure. She moved her hips faster, and it felt like a sweet victory as she brought him to completion. She kissed him on the mouth, catching his breath as he exhaled, and rolled to his side.

"Did you like that My Lord?" She smiled shyly, knowing full well the answer.

"I can't see straight, give me a minute woman." Jaime whispered.

Brienne's grin widened as she rested her head in the crook of his shoulder and neck, enjoying his satisfaction she closed her eyes and listened to the storm wail outside.