The Lannister army welcomed Jaime with open arms and, more importantly, open gates. Brienne and Arya rode with him; the latter showed a borrowed face, the other rode with helm lowered and shoulders rounded to forestall any suspicion. The gold cloaks and Kingsguard were nowhere to be found, long since disbanded in Cersei's reckless insanity, some absorbed into the army, others scattered in the short-lived winds of winter.
His sister the Queen, Jaime pronounced discretely to his captains, had succumbed; she had been manipulated and poisoned by her Hand who had just then been dispatched by Jaime's own, or so he told them after he and his companions had spent the waning hours of the morning in the royal chambers, determining the best course of action. The captains were perturbed by the announcement but did not question it – the Queen's decline had been no secret for some time. Given that the Sept was no more, he told them, she would be sent home to the Rock for burial as soon as possible. Jaime had only peered into the chamber where Arya and Clegane had stored the body, enough to see one sharp-clawed hand limply outstretched in his direction, no longer able to grip him. As if she might rise at the Night King's command, he had reached behind him in the doorway for Brienne then, her touch anchoring him, a guiding light - a flame leading him home and out of the darkness.
You are the only one
A portion of the army was immediately sent to the Kingswood to dispatch the Golden Company. A smaller contingent was tasked with seeing Cersei's heavily-shrouded form through the streets in a stone coffin, and away. As her corpse exited one gate, the Northern army and the Unsullied entered another. The people did not bar their path. With Cersei's reign at an end, the populace of King's Landing would hardly bat an eye at an unknown Targaryen, any more than they would if Jon had been flying Stark colors. Truth be told, Jon himself had more objections to his reign than the people did.
Jon did not wish to be king any more than he had wanted to be a bastard. But, for a short while, reign he did. It was three cycles of the moon before the dust was truly settled. The gold cloaks were re-instated, the Golden Company eventually brought to heel and Gendry was soon to arrive, having been now fully-fledged in war and sundry diplomacy alike. Tyrion was returned to health and began planting his usual seeds of calculated anarchy even before Sansa and her court arrived for the impending ceremonies.
"What about Sellwyn?" he seemed to ponder, more than ask to the rest of the committee sitting about him, the elderly Evenstar of Tarth included.
"I'm too old," the man chortled, "I would die soon enough, and then what?"
Tyrion smiled his most undisguised feline smile, "Then Brienne would become Queen."
"No." Firm, a leather boot marching on stone.
Tyrion turned to face the fierce blue eyes seated down the row. "But—"
The eyes almost glowed, "No."
Tyrion squinted, "I suppose that means my brother is out as well then?"
Jaime shook his head, smirking behind his wife. "Give it up, brother."
"With most of the old houses—" began Ser Davos before being cut off by the temporary King who interjected with, "What about you, Tyrion? The Lannister name still means something, doesn't it?"
Tyrion scoffed. "I think the only Lannister with clout is my good-sister and she's already turned it down." He smiled inwardly. "The people would never respect me, even if we had the North's support which I am sure we will not in this. That does remind me though – seeing as we're restoring the throne in the North, we should do so in Dorne as well."
"They murdered Myrcella." This, from the quiet corner behind Brienne which Tyrion acknowledged with a nod, but without a look for fear of seeing emotion there which he was unprepared to accommodate.
"And the Ironborn struck back. All the more reason, I think – we need Dorne as an ally, not a subject."
"Who is this 'we'," Jon queried, "You just said you don't want to rule."
"No," Tyrion said, refilling his cup, "but I can advise without the people's respect… and this is my advice. The Dornish don't want the Crownlands or the burnt Reach – they want to stay in Dorne and keep making wine and I, for one, "he lifted his goblet in a mock toast, "want that for them as well."
Jon stared at him incredulously. "Will there even be anything left to rule when you're through, or should we instead be looking to seat seven thrones?"
"Don't be silly," Tyrion retorted, "For one, the Reach is hardly fit to rule itself right now. Westeros can still be governed as five kingdoms… doesn't exactly have the same ring to it I grant you, are you sure you don't want it?"
Davos cleared his throat, preparing to resume his interrupted point but Jon shook his head. "I never did. Daenerys did. But even with the better claim, no. My loyalty is to the Night's Watch. There will always be threats in some form. And with the Free Folk going home, we'd do well to protect them. Anyway, it's not as if the Targaryens were beloved by these people. Had it not been for Ser Jaime my grandfather would have murdered them all as it is."
Jaime snickered and toasted, "You certainly have a way for making people feel their age, don't you?" Jon nodded an apology as Jaime went on, avoiding his wife's smirk. "But while we're on the subject of things on my conscience what about the Young Stark? Might be a fresh start."
"Two kingdoms with Stark rulers?" Tyrion pondered, "I don't think that will sit well with—"
"Perhaps we don't need a fresh start," a frustrated Ser Davos interrupted, finally making himself heard. "If the Targaryen heir does not want it, it should go down King Robert's line as it should have in the first place," this, with a glare toward Jaime, who looked away. "Seems to me Robert Baratheon had a son who has since been legitimized."
Tyrion picked up the thread. "He already has the Stormlands behind him, and he'd easily have the support of both the Vale and the Reach."
Brienne was leaning forward, engaged.
"The Riverlands could be convinced follow suit," added Jon.
"And the people," Brienne uttered, then louder, "The people might be more willing…"
Sellwyn cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "I would stay on and advise the boy if he'll have me. Tarth is sworn to Storm's End. It might do to give so young a person a loyal old man to help steer him through the tides."
"But what of your people?" asked Tyrion with a glance towards Brienne. "I confess I've harbored a selfish desire in these last few minutes of our conversation that my brother and his wife would remain here, if not to rule, then to lead the Kingsguard together."
"That's entirely up to my daughter," Sellwyn replied. "I would not stand in her way."
The room turned to the couple in the corner, and Brienne turned to her husband, who smiled. "I go where you go."
Brienne bit her lip and took his hand in both of hers, Jaime starting slightly at the intimacy of the gesture.
The only one that knows me
Once she might have sprung at the opportunity to do as Tyrion wished. But that was long ago, before all of this, before she'd felt her heart beat in time with another's, before Jaime.
"I know you will be unhappy if we stayed here, and I have nothing to keep me here. Both our names are already etched in the white book together." He smiled softly and tilted his head, watching her weave her thoughts into words. "Tarth lost its warriors in the last war. Let us bring some back. We can train the next generation together."
"So long as we're together," Jaime whispered for her alone.
And in the dark you show me
"I like the sound of that," Tyrion said loudly, toasting with a sly glance at Brienne, whose cheeks began to burn, and then turned distractedly to her father.
"We will see to the people."
Sellwyn nodded and reached for one of his daughter's hands, squeezing, "You are their future, my starfish."
Brienne withdrew her hand and sat back in her seat, somehow taller than before.
"It seems many decisions are being made without the new king even being here."
Tyrion turned, startled, his eyes landing on Arya near the closed door. "My lady, I'm afraid that is often how it goes here in King's Landing. But perhaps we can seek to change that if you stay. You've already said you would not return to the North, but perhaps you could act as an emissary from your sister's court? Assuming that is what Queen Sansa wants, of course."
"I don't want to be a lady."
"She'd be better off in the Kingsguard," Jaime quipped, bringing out smirks in both Brienne and Jon.
"Grey Worm and his men have resumed the search," offered Jon. "They've promised to stay until the rest of the wildfire stores are recovered.," replied Jon, "and then he and his men plan to set sail toward Volantis."
"Perhaps I will be with them."
Jon smiled at his cousin. "Perhaps you will."
"If my good-sister will not stay and whip the new guard into shape perhaps Clegane could be employed."
Davos shook his head, "Do you think that's wise considering he killed the last occupant of that cursed throne?"
"Worked for me." All eyes went to Jaime, who shrugged. "Does it count if the occupant deserved it?" His glance landed on the diminutive Stark. "Besides, Clegane would never harm Gendry Baratheon, would he, Lady Arya?"
Arya Stark glared at him, a smile creeping into the corner of her mouth.
"Are you sure?"
"For the seventeenth time, Jaime. You cannot bear to stay in King's Landing. There is nothing for you at the Rock, and there is nothing for me here. I must return to Tarth eventually, why put it off when we can go back now and do some good?"
Jaime perched on the edge of the bed, warming himself through his linens while Brienne moved dizzyingly back and forth across the chamber collecting cast-off garments and shoes and depositing them neatly near the window. Each time she passed the hearth, her shape eclipsed the flames, and Jaime surrounding her in light. The sight was intoxication itself.
It's perfectly reckless
"You won't be sorry, then?" he drawled, "To have your adventures ended, I mean."
Brienne snorted and paused by the window, taking advantage of the breeze, letting it lift the hair from the back of her neck. She lifted her arm to ruffle it slightly, feeling her body cool. "Adventures? Is that what you call all this? I wanted to be a soldier."
"You're better. A warrior." He leaned back, taking her in.
She eyed him. "That doesn't change just because I go home."
"To an island," he proffered, "distant from everyone you know."
She shook her head. "But it's my home. And I'll bring with me the only ones that matter."
He studied her as she slid her feet from the slippers and stretched her toes against the cool stone, contemplative, the late winter breeze catching the sleeve of her shift and ruffling it as she touched her hair. He would have been content to stay warm and encourage the warmth of spring, but his wife had insisted they leave one of the panes of their tower room ajar. Perhaps she missed the North after all.
Her skin was glowing pink across her chest but he couldn't tell yet whether it was a chill or embarrassment over something unsaid. He leaned forward, holding his hand out toward her. She looked tempted but did not bite, lowering her hand from her hair.
"I left home to fight for Renly's throne." Jaime leaned back on his arms, listening. "What I wanted then seemed simple. Now… I am so much richer for it. It seems an age has passed since then. I left in support of a Baratheon, and now," she shrugged, "I return with one on the throne."
Jaime smiled softly, indulgently, encouraging.
She narrowed her eyes. "And what do you mean ended?"
Jaime sat back, amused. "What did I say now?"
"You said my adventures would be ended." She smiled and shook her head. "I will still spar with you, Ser. Every day that I'm allowed, and we will train… besides life with you might be adventure enough, don't you think?" She narrowed her sparkling eyes, "Perhaps on a very good day when the sun is bright on the bay we can reminisce… I can affix you to me and make you march through the meadows. We'll hide and sleep through the day under the shade of the hedgerows again."
He looked on at her, amused but without irony, "I am already affixed to you, my love."
She smiled wider. "And one day I will truly be the Evenstar, and then another part of the adventure begins."
He drew his eyebrows. "Do we have to stop sparring when you become the Evenstar? Is it frowned upon? If so then perhaps I need to personally see more to the health and care of your father right now."
Brienne's smile was like the sun, warming him beyond the strength of the fire, her eyes unwavering. "No, you silly man. That will not change. It's the will of the mother I was speaking of."
Jaime's audibly mouth clicked open.
Brienne blinked and tried to suppress a sound – she was not sure from which realm it had come, but dependent upon Jaime's next words it might have been a laugh or a sob.
Damn you leave me defenseless
Jaime licked his lips, his mouth suddenly incredibly dry, staring at her. "Our supply ran out, did it?"
"No," she answered weakly, then swallowed and, "I just—"
He was staring through her "—you said we'd train the next generation." He suddenly hung his head, stunned.
"Are you—"
He looked up, tears in his eyes reflecting the firelight. "Come here," he whispered.
A tear formed in each eye as she shook her feet free from the ground and started toward him. She eyed his lap. "I will likely crush you, Ser."
He scoffed, a smile playing at his lips, "If I cannot bear the weight of my wife and child, what good am I?"
She moved toward him, gingerly settled herself in his lap and cupped his face, pressing their foreheads together, breathing together in their private little world.
"Is this what you want?" His voice was husky, overwhelmed with feeling as he stroked her spine with his wrist, his hand fingering the hem of her shift along the curve of her knee. "You needn't… that is if you do not desire to… I had my chance, Brienne. You don't need to go through this for me. I have you, and that is more than I deserve."
Her eyes shined like sunlit lagoons, piercing his doubt, "You have us." She stroked his hair. "It was never a consideration of mine, truly. But you're wrong. Nothing before this matters. No child before this one was truly yours. And I know, Jaime. I know that you would be parent enough for both of us if need be."
He angled his head, their tears running together, "How do you know?"
She smiled brilliantly, holding his face to hers. "Because you want to be. Because all you've ever really sought was something worthy of your love and protection. It was a long road that led you here, and in spite of everything… in spite of your family, despite your name or what people know of you, every time you've found that, you have succeeded fiercely. No one knows that better than I."
He dragged his fingertips up her hip and settled there softly. He whispered her name reverently, his mouth dropping to graze the scars at her throat.
She tilted her head back, her hands framing his face, the spaces where they connected glowing incandescently. "Jaime, we survived in a story that was not ours. Now we get to write our own. He tilted his head up, his eyes fluttering shut and blindly sought her mouth, sweetly kissing first her chin, then her cheek, and finally, that which he had sought all along.
Put your lighter in the air and lead me back home