Author's Note: It's taken me forever to finally figure out just how and where this story is going to end, but now that I have, I thought I would make it official. Including this chapter, there are four installments left: Chapter Forty-four, Chapter Forty-five, the Epilogue, and the Sanrion Bonus Chapter which will be posted at the very end.
Chapter Forty-four
"Does he always take this long to get ready?" Bronn asked Tyrion as they sat in the corner of Jaime's room, enjoying a drink and watching Jaime fuss with his hair in the mirror above the washbasin.
Tyrion snorted. "One time, it took him three hours to get dressed for a ball for Cersei's name day. I swear, I thought he was going to come out of his chamber wearing a gown."
"Haha," Jaime said with mock amusement, turning away from the mirror and glaring at them both. "And it was not three hours."
"No," Tyrion scoffed. "More like four."
"Don't you two have somewhere else to be?" Jaime asked, suddenly having no patience for either one of them.
"Nah," Bronn answered. "What could be more entertaining than this? Watching the pride of the Lannisters primp in front of the mirror like a fourteen-year-old girl."
"I am not primping. I just want everything to be perfect for Brienne."
"No, you just wanna be prettier than Brienne. Though, I can't say that's very hard to do."
"Watch it," Jaime warned darkly, pointing a single finger in Bronn's direction.
But Bronn just laughed. "Or you'll what? Challenge me to single combat? Beat me to a bloody pulp? Yeah, I'd like to see you try."
"Oh, let him be," Tyrion chided as he poured Bronn some more wine. "Can't you see he's nervous? As nervous as a virgin in a brothel."
"I am not nervous," Jaime snapped, though his dogged insistence only gave Tyrion and Bronn more reason to laugh.
"Definitely sounds like a fourteen-year-old girl to me," Bronn said.
Jaime sent a dark look Bronn's way before turning back to the mirror. He patted down his hair one last time, finally managing to get every last strand in place, before his gaze fell to his doublet and he frowned.
Tyrion sighed in exasperation. "What's wrong now? See something else you don't like?"
Jaime turned toward Tyrion, purposefully avoiding Bronn's gaze. "Do you think I should change? The red matches the cloak, but I can't help but think blue would suit me better. It would reflect the color in Brienne's eyes and—"
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Bronn swore as he put down his glass and got up from his chair. "Why don't you just put on a dress already?"
Jaime glowered at Bronn. "I was asking Tyrion a question. Not you."
"Yeah, well, I'm not the one who's going to be late for his own wedding, now am I?"
Jaime glanced at the open window, noting the angle of the sun in the sky. "Shit."
"Shit is right," Bronn said. "And if you don't start heading out soon, who knows if Brienne will even be there by the time you get your poncey ass down to the sept. Just imagine what she'll do if she thinks you're not coming. She might never speak to you again, and really, who could blame her?"
A sick feeling gripped Jaime's heart, and he looked to Tyrion for reassurance. "You . . . you don't think Brienne would change her mind, do you?"
"Of course not." Tyrion raised his glass and took one final swig before slamming it down on the table and climbing from his chair. "But I do think Bronn is right. I'm sure Brienne is already at the sept waiting for you. We should get moving."
Bronn sauntered toward the door, giving Jaime and Tyrion his back. "See you two gents at the sept. I just hope the Lord Commander is still there by the time you finally decide to grace us with your presence."
The moment Bronn was gone, Jaime exhaled a sigh of relief, though his whole body seemed to be trembling. He stared down at Tyrion, suddenly feeling unsure of himself. "I . . . I don't know if I'm ready for this."
"Nonsense," Tyrion said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You're more than ready. You love Brienne. Brienne loves you. So, what's the problem?"
"Problem? There is no problem. It's just—" Jaime wasn't quite sure how to put what he was feeling into words, but he was determined to try. "I . . . I never thought to find myself here. Not in a million years. You know what my life was like before. Before, when Cersei . . ." Jaime could scarcely bear the sound of her name, but he'd had no choice but to say it.
"Yes, I know."
"I never thought I would marry anyone, and now, here I am, late for my own wedding, and I've never been more nervous. I want everything to be perfect for Brienne. She deserves for everything to be perfect. We've worked so hard for this, worked so hard to get here. I don't want anything to spoil it, especially me."
Tyrion offered Jaime an indulgent smile. "You're not going to spoil anything, and everything already is perfect. Brienne just wants one thing, to marry the man she loves. All you have to do is show up and say your vows. That's it. The rest—what you wear, how you look—is totally irrelevant."
"Vows?" Jaime had completely forgotten about the vows. "What . . . what am I supposed to say?"
Tyrion chuckled. "How many weddings have you been to, and you still don't know the vows?"
Jaime gulped down the lump in his throat. "Something about Mother, Maiden, Warrior—"
"Father, Smith, Warrior," Tyrion corrected. "It's all right. I'll teach you on the way."
"Teach me on the way? How am I supposed to learn all of that by the time we reach the sept?"
"Don't worry. I'm an excellent tutor. Now, grab your cloak and let's go."
Jaime crossed the room and picked up the heavy crimson cloak that was draped over the foot of his bed. It was embroidered with a delicate tapestry of golden lions, the gilded thread shimmering even in the faint sunlight dappling through the curtains. Jaime pulled it over his back, almost sinking under the weight of it. It had been a long time since he'd worn a cloak of any kind—not since he'd been to Winterfell—and it felt odd around his shoulders. With one last look in the mirror, he followed after Tyrion, anxiety gnawing at his gut.
Jaime didn't know how he was going to stand up in front of a roomful of people and recite a stream of vows he could scarcely even remember. Tyrion went through the whole liturgy with him as they made their way to the sept, but Jaime was sure that once he reached the altar, he was going to forget every last word.
When Jaime and Tyrion finally arrived at the sept, they found Sansa outside the door, waiting for them.
"Are we late?" Jaime asked, fearing the worst.
"A little," Sansa replied, "but not unfashionably so. Though, usually, it's the bride who's late for the wedding, not the groom."
Tyrion laughed, but Jaime didn't find Sansa's remark the least bit amusing.
"Is . . . is Brienne all right?" he asked, his stomach twisting in knots.
Sansa smiled warmly at him. "She's just as nervous as you are, I suspect, though quite eager to take her vows. Now, all she's waiting for is you, Lord Lannister."
Sansa motioned toward the open doorway, and Jaime turned, holding his breath, expecting to see Brienne already waiting at the altar, but all he found was the septon, standing there alone.
"Well, get going," Tyrion said with a playful shove to Jaime's backside. "You don't want to keep Brienne waiting any longer than you already have."
Jaime staggered forward, suddenly feeling lightheaded. He entered the sept on shaky legs, his heart beating an uneven rhythm as he walked toward the altar, navigating his way through the small company of guests who had assembled for the wedding. Although Jaime was thankful to be among friends, the insufferable smirk on Bronn's face did nothing to calm his already frayed nerves.
As Jaime neared the altar, he heard the sept doors close behind him, shrouding the cavernous space in an almost sacred silence. Still unsteady on his feet, he mounted the steps to the altar, taking his place before the septon and waiting in breathless anticipation for the arrival of his bride.
Jaime could feel every eye in the sept upon him, and it only heightened his anxiety. His spine tingled, and his skin flushed cold, and he feared he might do the most unmanly thing possible and faint right there on the spot. He clenched his hand at his side, desperate to ground himself, as the doors behind him slowly opened again and a soft gasp filled the room.
Jaime inhaled a long, slow breath, suddenly finding it difficult to move. He felt impossibly foolish, like a green boy about to set eyes on a woman for the first time. And although he had yet to even glance in Brienne's direction, every nerve in his body was fixated on her, her mere presence enough to make his heart beat faster and his eyes sting with unshed tears.
His limbs trembling, Jaime finally turned around to catch his first glimpse of Brienne. The instant he saw her, he completely forgot how to breathe.
Brienne was an absolute vision in ice-blue silk, the color a perfect complement for her amazing eyes. A crown of blue flowers had been fashioned for her hair, and she looked fresh and young and ethereal, almost like something out of a fairy story. She had never looked more lovely or more feminine, and Jaime was simply overcome by her beauty.
Selwyn Tarth stepped forward and took his daughter's arm, though Jaime barely noticed. His attention was focused on Brienne, watching her with hungry eyes, eager to drink in every last ounce of her radiance. The smile that lit up her face was the same earnest, eager smile she'd worn after he'd knighted her. It was bright and honest and open, and in an instant, Jaime understood just how truly blessed Brienne felt to be marrying him.
With her father as her escort, Brienne entered the sept, practically floating as she made her way toward the altar. When she and Selwyn reached the bottom of the steps, they stopped, and Selwyn placed a small kiss on her cheek before ushering her forward.
Brienne began to climb the steps, her eyes never leaving Jaime's. As she took her place beside him, they stared at each other in rapt wonder. For a moment, the rest of the world seemed to disappear and it was just the two of them standing there. It wasn't until the septon cleared his throat and a titter of laughter rose up behind them that Jaime realized they weren't alone.
"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection," the septon said, rousing Jaime from his stupor.
Brienne's lips quirked in a knowing grin, and without a word, she slowly turned around.
A flurry of butterflies flitted through Jaime's stomach as he swept the Lannister-red cloak from his back and carefully draped it over Brienne's shoulders, its considerable weight making her seem almost dainty beneath.
Once that was done, Brienne turned toward Jaime again, this time reaching for his hand.
The feel of her skin against his was an unexpected shock, and Jaime gasped, the sound barely audible in the large space. He gazed into Brienne's eyes, losing himself in their richness and beauty. Somewhere in the distance, Jaime heard the septon welcoming their guests to the ceremony, but he was only vaguely conscious of the words. Every fiber of his being was transfixed on Brienne, and nothing else in the entire world mattered.
The septon cleared his throat again, drawing their attention back to him as he brought forth a thick, brocaded cloth and laid it over their clasped hands. He wrapped the fabric around them, binding them together as he spoke a litany of words that Jaime barely comprehended. As the septon finally finished, he said, "Look upon one another and say the words."
Their hands still clasped beneath the fabric, Jaime and Brienne turned toward each other again, and suddenly, Jaime's fear threatened to paralyze him. He was certain that as soon as he opened his mouth, all the wrong words would come out. But they didn't. The calmness, the pure bliss, in Brienne's gaze was his anchor, and together, they spoke the vows that would bind them to each other for all eternity.
"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger." The words poured from Jaime's lips without conscious thought. "I am hers, and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days." As the final words tripped over his tongue, Jaime felt an indescribable wave of relief wash over him. Brienne smiled at him brightly, looking more beautiful than ever, and Jaime's heart swelled with love for her.
The septon reached out and began removing the cloth as he proclaimed, "Let it be known that Brienne of House Tarth and Jaime of House Lannister are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder."
A jubilant laugh escaped Brienne's throat, followed by a burst of tears that only made her blue eyes shine brighter. Jaime felt tears stinging his own eyes, but he fought them back, determined not to cry in front of the other council members even though his happiness was boundless.
It was done. They were now husband and wife, and no one—not a single soul, living or dead—could ever tear them apart.
In the back of his mind, Jaime was dimly aware that the ceremony wasn't quite over yet, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what came next. The corner of Brienne's mouth lifted in a wry smile, and she raised both her eyebrows as if she were trying to tell him something, but Jaime was at a complete loss. He waited for further instruction from the septon, but none came, and suddenly, it was Bronn who broke the silence.
"Oh, seven hells!" he shouted. "Kiss her already, will ya?"
The entire congregation burst out laughing—well, everyone except for Bran, of course—and Jaime's cheeks flamed red with embarrassment, but he needed no further prompting. Completely forgetting the words Tyrion had instructed him to say, he released Brienne's hand and snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her to him and kissing her with a passion that had little place in such a dignified ceremony.
The small crowd behind them applauded, and for once, Jaime didn't care that they had an audience. Having Brienne in his arms, sealing their pledge to each other with a kiss, was the greatest joy he had ever known.
When Jaime was finally forced to end the kiss, he and Brienne both turned toward their friends and family and walked down the altar steps together, his arm still wrapped lovingly around her waist. After a flurry of congratulations and well-wishes, the whole party headed to Bran's solar for the wedding feast.
"How does it feel to be the Lady of Casterly Rock?" Jaime asked as he and Brienne led their guests out of the sept.
"Wonderful!" she answered, not a hint of hesitation in her voice. "And how does it feel to be a married man, Jaime Lannister?"
Jaime paused, taking a moment to catch his breath as the truth of Brienne's words nearly overpowered him. "Wonderful!" he replied, unable to keep the smile from his face. "I don't think I've ever been better suited for anything in all my life."
"Really? I'm surprised to hear you say that since, for a moment there, I thought you were going to faint."
Jaime laughed, not the least bit bothered by Brienne's remark. "I was nervous about the ceremony, that's all. Who knew there were so many vows to memorize?"
"Oh, just every young girl who's ever dreamed of marrying her knight in shining armor, that's who."
"And am I your knight in shining armor?" Jaime asked, seductively arching one brow.
Brienne shrugged. "I suppose. But the real question is, am I yours?"
Jaime stopped, pulling Brienne flush up against him right there in the middle of the corridor, not a care for the guests who were following behind them. He smiled broadly at her. "You are my knight in shining armor and my fairytale princess, Brienne of Tarth, and I love you more with each new day that passes."
A hint of color crept into Brienne's cheeks, making her look even lovelier. "Does this mean you have no regrets, my lord husband?"
"Not a single one, my lady wife." And then, despite the fact that the entire wedding party had stopped to watch them, Jaime kissed her again with a breathtaking urgency.
In that moment, all Jaime wanted was to be alone with Brienne, to show her just how very much he loved her, but they had other obligations. They would be alone together soon enough, spending the night in the Tower of the Hand before setting off for Casterly Rock in the morning. Even though Jaime was going to miss Tyrion and King's Landing, the truth was, he was eager to be home. It had been years since he'd lived in the Westerlands, and he was desperate to take Brienne there and show her all its majesties and wonders. He was looking forward to finally going home, his new bride by his side.
Reluctantly, Jaime let Brienne go, keeping his arm about her waist as they turned and led their tiny wedding party toward the king's solar. Jaime had never even dared dream that this day would come, but now that it had, he was overjoyed. A promising future lay before them, the past little more than a distant memory, and Jaime had truly never been happier.