Tarth's beach alone is worth the trip. Its waters are as blue there as they are from a distance, and the sand is soft to step foot on.

Ser Goodwin, Brienne's castellan, leads their welcoming party. "Your Grace," he greets Jaime, bowing. Then he turns to his wife. "Our Queen and Evenstar."

She blushes at the words, and he raises his eyebrows in amusement. As House Tarth has no bannermen, only Evenfall's household and a few inhabitants are there to lead them to the castle. Jaime finds he likes those visits—the ones to lords who only rule their villages—the best.

As it is near sunset, Brienne announces everyone will get two hours of rest before dinner. After ensuring everyone is guided to their assigned chambers, she takes him to her old one, only to be interrupted by Goodwin. "Brienne," he says quietly, "your things were moved to your father's room. The Evenstar's room."

She swallows hard. "What about his belongings?"

"I did as you instructed: save for family heirlooms, everything was donated or sold."

She nods, and he sees her lips trembling. She squeezes his hand and changes their path. When they reach the room, he closes the door and hugs her from behind, just as he did on the ship. "He'd be so proud to see you now, my love," he whispers in her ear.

She lets out a trembled sigh and turns to him. Wordlessly, she guides him to the bed, where they both sit. Then, she rests her head on his shoulder. "Did you really meet him during the war?"

"I did," he replies, recalling the moments he interacted with Lord Selwyn before he died protecting him from Ser Gerold's blade. He never told her who killed her father; it was not his tale to tell, but Hightower's. "He cared little for the political side of the battles; I understood where you got that from. All he wanted was your release, to have you back home."

He takes a deep breath, and she fills the silence. "And you saw to it. You got me honorably released from the Kingsguard after taking credit for Aerys' death."

"But you're not home," he argues. "You're stuck in King's Landing until you either die or abdicate in someone else's favor."

She raises her head to him and shakes it. "I'm home," she declares emphatically. "Maybe not the one Father had in mind, but how could he have known my home is in your arms?"

Carefully, he places a hand on the back of her head and pulls her close to kiss her. They exchange a few soft kisses before she retreats. He rests his forehead against hers and sighs. "It was hard to maintain composure near him," he confesses. "Whenever I saw him, I wanted to kneel before him and pledge myself to House Tarth."

She blinks. "What?"

He inhales sharply. "I would have done it," he continues, as if she didn't say a word. "Had I woken up, I don't know, right after I was knighted, or any time before I fucked Cersei and doomed myself to wear the white cloak. But especially if I had already been knighted." He lowers his hand from her head to her neck. "I'd have taken a ship to Tarth right from the Kingswood, preferably under disguise. I'd have—I don't know if I'd tell your father the truth or make up a new identity, but I'd have pledged myself as a household knight and, at first opportunity, offered to teach you to fight. I'd pretend to fall for you, either at first sight or slowly—it would all depend on how good of an actor I'd be around you. I'd court you in the most gentlemanly way possible and do my best to earn your love this time around. And… perhaps an earlier exposure to your kind heart would've helped me redeem myself. Perhaps, wrapped in your love, I could've been a better man."

He thought about it during the whole war. Fantasized, over and over, about winning Brienne's heart the way she deserved to be wooed. "Of course," he adds, "this was all assuming you wouldn't remember me."

She leaves a quick peck on his lips. "Depending on how you presented yourself," she says, "I'd have followed along your pretense. I'm not sure how I'd have reacted to you training me and courting me in earnest, but—gods, Jaime, I can't see a reality in which I wouldn't accept you. There is no reality in which I wouldn't love you and yearn for your love."

With his other hand, he caresses her cheek. "There is no need to yearn for something that is already yours," he says quietly. "It will always be yours."

She smiles, and he almost manages to return in kind. It's still hard to fully smile, but he thinks he's getting there.

Dinner is a calm affair, as Brienne and Goodwin spend the whole time updating one another, and he and the Crownsguard knights remain silent, listening to their conversation.

When the time comes to retire for the night, he takes her in his arm and tries to retrace their steps back to their chambers. She chuckles every time he guesses wrong and ends up guiding him herself, with Ser Barristan behind them.

"Brienne," he says when they close the door, "would you mind if we don't make love tonight? I'm rather tired…"

She kisses his cheek. "I was wondering when you'd tire of nightly sex."

He blinks. "Have you grown tired before me? Have I forced myself—"

Another kiss on the cheek. "No, Jaime," she says softly. "Although I was a bit tired, it was never to the point I'd refuse your puppy eyes and stop you from achieving your goal." She hugs him. "Besides, you are always so tender and sweet; I only really get tired when we do it more than once a day." He feels her lips brush his neck. "We'll spend a fortnight here, so there are several days to test the bed so your string doesn't break."

He nuzzles against her hair. "Great," he murmurs. "I'd still like to hold you to sleep… and I don't mind if we do with our clothes off. I love the sight of you bare."

She pats his arm as she breaks their hug. "You will mind when you wake up in the middle of the night with your ass frozen under the sheets." She points at the windows with her chin, and he notices they can't be closed. "No matter the season, nights in Tarth are always cold. Nothing like Winterfell, of course, but I suppose that's why I adapted better than you."

He sighs dramatically. "Well, I guess I'll have to content myself with the view of my wife blocked by a nightshift."

She chuckles. Oh, how he loves that sound, and even more when he's the one to bring it. "You'll survive."

On their fifth day, a soldier comes during their morningly sparring session running and screaming, "Pirates!"

Everyone stands up and rushes to the fight, but Ser Barristan raises his hand. "Sorry, Your Graces, but you're not going!"

"What?" Brienne exclaims beside him. "This is my home, Ser—"

"And we cannot afford to have the King and the Queen in the open field!"

She is about to open her mouth again, but Arthur grabs her arm. "Barristan has a point, Your Grace," he says calmly. "It's better if you and King Jaime stand in defense of the keep, from where you can have an advantage."

His argument is too good to counter, and Brienne seems to sense it. In fact, Jaime had briefly thought of that exact same strategy, but Barristan and Brienne's brief discussion cut his line of thinking short.

"Come, Brienne," he tells her. "Let's get armored and find a point to stand watch."

As they tend to keep their armor in their own chambers—a habit from years and years needing it at their instant disposal—that's where they run off to. Not for the first time, Jaime is genuinely glad for having his right hand back.

(He's always glad, of course, but, for most of the time, he doesn't actively think about it. Sometimes, he even catches himself using the left as if it was what he always did. The subject usually pops up in his mind when he's in a situation in which being two-handed makes a huge difference, like now.)

"There's a small uphill next to the castle," she tells him hurriedly as they grab their swords. They are no Oathkeeper and Widow's Wail, but they do the job, and their hilts are way better looking: a lion head adorned by sunbursts, representing both Houses—one of his gifts to her shortly after their wedding. "We can catch a glimpse of the battle there, so that's where we must ride to."

"As the Queen commands," he says.

The battle never reaches the castle, much to their simultaneous relief and disappointment. "Do you think this is going to be the rest of our lives?" Brienne asks as they ride back to Evenfall.

"No," he replies softly. "It's one thing to have the King or the Queen leading their men in a war. It's another to lead a fight against a surprise pirate attack. Barristan and Arthur were right not to let us go, especially given we don't have children yet to take the throne in case we die."

The thought of Brienne's belly swelling with child is a source of delight and dread. Delight because he's dreamed of a family with her for years; dread because, despite her reassurances, he still fears for her life.

Her household is visibly glad to see them arrive alive and well, and the apparent chaos calms down. At a slower pace, they organize everything for the eventual injured soldier and wait for them to arrive.

From a distance, he catches sight of Barristan berating Bronn on something. Oh, no. His once Lord Commander never liked the once sellsword that much, but, as his nomination was approved by Jaime, Brienne and Gerold, he never voiced his complaints near him. His disapproval was rather silent, and Jaime had even thought the older man had acclimated to the younger one, since they seemed to have gotten along well in the crownlands—Bronn's lack of finesse aside, of course.

He hates the prospect of any progress between them being put to rest due to a small fight against pirates, but, if Bronn forgot himself as a member of the Crownsguard…

Ser Arthur rides ahead of the duo with a sullen face, akin to the one he showed in the Tower of Joy. "The battle was an easy victory for us, Your Graces," he informs them, "with no casualties on our side. But there are… matters to discuss."

He and Brienne exchange glances. She too caught on to the (so far) inaudible fight between the two white knights. To be honest, his wife's approval of Bronn's nomination had been nothing but a curt nod, possibly a concession to when he approved her suggestion to name Davos Seaworth. They've never truly discussed the subject, not even after their reconciliation.

In hindsight, Jaime himself often wondered if he made the right choice to suggest his name to Ser Gerold. In their previous lifetime, Bronn turned out to be a cutthroat and turncloak, true to the sellsword stereotype; is that the kind of man he wanted for his and Brienne's guard? For the supposedly highest order of knighthood, meant for the most honorable? Didn't he just contribute to, maybe, an even earlier decay of the Crownsguard?

Then he'd remember all the times Bronn helped him or Tyrion without any foreseeable reward. The times he showed to care for either of them on some level. He'd remember how his first action upon finding them in that tavern was to tell them Cersei wanted them dead and then negotiate for a higher price. He was crass, sure, and Jaime didn't doubt he'd have shot at least one of them if they didn't come up with a better offer, but any other man would have killed them right away. Both brothers were unarmed and defenseless, after all, confident to be safe in Wintertown. He can be good and honorable, he'd conclude, looking at a much younger version of the man. If he spends time with good men, away from the grim world of fighting for survival, he can learn to be like them.

Well, he's about to find out if he got it right.

"Your Graces," Ser Barristan says, riding ahead. "I lament to inform you that Ser Bronn of the Blackwater was caught stealing the enemies' property."

Jaime motions to grab Brienne's wrist and sighs as the aforementioned man approaches. "Bronn," he calls, "what did you do?"

"Look, Ya Grace," he says defensively, "those pirates have nothin' they ain't stolen! I thought it'd be better to get the goods to Tarth!"

"Were you?" Ser Barristan retorts.

"It doesn't matter," Jaime cuts the discussions off before Bronn can reply. He has a strong feeling they've fought over this already. "Bronn, I get what you were thinking. Whether you wanted to keep these goods to yourself or turn them to us, you assumed stealing from thieves was all well and good. Am I right?"

"Yes, Ya Grace," he replies in a neutral tone.

"If you were anyone else, if you occupied any other position—say, if you were part of Evenfall's guard—it wouldn't be that much of a problem," he says as politely as possible, though he doubts Brienne would overlook such an action. Her brief hand squeeze confirms it. "However, Ser, you are a knight of the Crownsguard. Your conduct is meant to set an example for knights all over the realm. Stealing, even from pirates, is not a behavior you can engage yourself in."

"What if those were goods they stole from Westeros, he?"

"Did you capture any ship? Arrest any pirate holding treasures or goods?"

"Nah, we mostly killed 'em. The rest ran away fast."

"Then you have your answer." He pats on the young man's shoulder. "I know it takes time to get used to a new lifestyle. You used to answer only to yourself. But, unlike my wife, your nomination for the Crownsguard wasn't forced. You chose to join us, aware of what your vows entailed. We don't even ask for celibacy anymore, which was the oath who drove most men away." He sighs. "You are allowed to regret your decision, if that's the problem—"

"It ain't, Ya Grace," Bronn says sternly. "I'll… watch out for my behavior in the future."

"That's all we ask, Ser," Brienne interferes, and he bites back a proud smile. Not the time to be a besotted fool, he reminds himself as she turns to Barristan. "And Ser Barristan, although I understand your indignation perfectly—I share it with you even—I ask you to refrain from chastising Ser Bronn or any other of your sworn brothers publicly."

The old knight looks down and nods. "Understood, Your Grace."

Despite the scene Barristan and Bronn inadvertently caused at the entrance of Evenfall, everyone vouches for a small victory feast. Brienne is reluctant at first, but Jaime eventually changes her mind. "You refused a welcoming feast," he reminds her. "While it's admirable that you don't want to waste your home's resources, your people want to honor you. Their Queen, their Evenstar." He kisses her cheek. "I'm not the only one who loves you."

Perhaps it's his last sentence that does it, if her soft smile and light blush is any indication. Regardless, she allows the staff to prepare a small celebration.

As Brienne did not bring any of her ladies along in this trip, content with meeting Rhaella and Lyanna on the road, her former maids in Evenfall take it upon themselves to help her get ready. She tries to wave it away, saying there is no need for such a fuss, but they insist, and she concedes. The women all but kick him out of their chambers, so he grabs his things and goes to Brienne's old room.

Before getting dressed, he appraises the chambers he's in. Like the Evenstar's, its ceiling is painted with the night sky, although the constellations are not exactly the same ones. There is a large window (that can't be closed either) facing the yards, which leaves Jaime wondering if his wife's pursuit of a warrior life was common among her family. He's bound to talk to Ser Goodwin sooner or later. As expected, there are no personal belongings anymore.

As he didn't break a sweat in the fight he didn't partake in, he simply removes his armor and puts on the outfit he had commissioned for Brienne's nameday, a couple months ago, but didn't get ready in time. It carries her House's banner in its entirety, with suns and moons and all, not just the colors like he wore for her modest feast in the Red Keep.

(Brienne favored a visit to orphanages instead of celebrating within the castle walls. Although Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan argued over security, she reminded them of her own ability to fight, as she had been one of them not so long ago.)

He dresses up quickly and soon he's going back to the chambers he shares with his wife. After years away from her, being parted for even a short time is, to say the least, unpleasant. He's greedy and doesn't want to miss her if it can be prevented—and it can definitely be prevented right now.

Brienne is already with her dress on when he enters. It's one of the many dresses he commissioned for her before their reconciliation. Its top is azure and its skirt is pink, but the transition between both colors is not gradual, with light purple and lilac spots in its middle. It's sleeveless, with sun and moon brooches at the top of its straps. He remembers it being one of his favorites, though he never told Brienne that.

He gathers all of this looking at her back; as soon as the maids announce his entrance, she warns him not to look before they are finished—they are fixing her hair. She's let it grow after their coronation, but apparently Brienne is not meant for long hair, and it never goes past her shoulder. Not that he minds; he fell in love with a shorter-haired Brienne, and he knows he'd love her even bald.

He sits on an armchair and silently watches the maid get their work finished. From what little he can from his wife's hands, they are trembling. He doesn't need to ask why she's nervous; of course she is.

When the maids are finished, Brienne goes to the mirror first. From where he sits, he can't see anything, so he waits for her to turn to him. When she does, he takes a sharp breath.

Her hair falls in short curls, looking lighter and softer than usual. There is light makeup on her face, enough to give some colors to her cheeks and lips. There is a necklace with a pink stone pendant—a quartz, perhaps? He doesn't know for sure.

"You look beautiful," he breathes out as he stands up to walk to her.

She smiles and thanks the maids. They smile back and curtsey before leaving. "You look very handsome yourself," she says back, just as quietly. "I didn't know you had something made of my House banner."

He kisses her forehead, careful not to ruin her makeup. "I haven't had the chance to show before," he replies. "Are you ready?"

She answers by grabbing his arm.

As there aren't many people to entertain in the feast, it's a modest affair, as everything in Evenfall has been. He does ask Ser Goodwin about House Tarth's history with knighthood, which earns him a few tales about Ser Duncan the Tall and his (brief) time on the island.

When the local singer begins his show, he grabs Brienne's hand and asks in her ear if she wants to dance. At first, she tries to decline his invitation, but he's persistent. "We haven't danced since our wedding," he says. "We deserve a better memory. Our only good dance together was in Winterfell a lifetime ago. Let me have this; let yourself have this."

He pulls away to see her reaction. She takes a deep breath and nods. Slowly, they stand up and walk to the centre of the hall, where no tables are in their way.

The song played is slow, which is perfect for their first dance. He lifts the hand he used to grab hers and uses the other to encircle her waist. At first, he makes an effort to behave as decorum dictates, but soon their foreheads are touching and his hand lowers to her waist as well—just as they did in Winterfell.

"A lot better than in our wedding," he whispers, "wouldn't you say?"

"Tremendously," she agrees. "You… I remember you had tears in your eyes when we danced. Couldn't figure out why."

He holds her tighter. "I was heartbroken," he admits. "I had the love of my life in my arms, but she didn't want to be there."

"I did," she reminds him, kissing the corner of his mouth. "I always do."

"I know," he reassures her, "and this knowledge alone improves tonight by tenfold. In fact, it's better than even our dance in Winterfell, because then I only hoped you loved me back."

They dance for hours, never leaving each other's arms. When it's time to retire, they continue their dance in their chambers, which carries on to a slow, tender, but passionate ending to their night.

The rest of their stay in Tarth is uneventful, to the point Brienne decides to leave three days earlier than planned after writing to Estermont and Storm's End asking if they can visit them sooner.

Jaime does his best to show his best face to the Estermonts when they arrive in Greenstone. When he takes Brienne to bed, it's rather desperate. After they finish, he admits why. "Joffrey was conceived here, in this castle," he explains. "Or so Cersei liked to believe. It was the dumbest luck we ever had."

If she's bothered by the mention of his sister, her curiosity seems to be greater. "What do you mean?"

"She fucked Robert before me that night, and she only took me because Robert bedded his cousin." He sighs. "I nicknamed this castle Greenshit at the time, because…"

She chuckles. "You don't have to explain. I saw it with my own eyes, and I know House Estermont is far from rich." She pulls him close. "So you wanted to replace your old memories of this place with new ones?"

"Yes," he confirms. "Everything Cersei-related is now tainted in my mind, even things I enjoyed at the time. I'd rather replace as many of them as possible with… you-shaped memories."

She kisses him lazily. "Then we should do it again," she whispers, running her fingers down his chest, "just to make sure."

By the time they leave the island, Cersei is little more than a tiny shadow.

Lyanna greets them on a horse, dressed in leather breeches and jerkin. "Figured you'd be tired of ladies in pompous dresses," she tells them, winking. At her side, a bald man with a spade-shaped red beard greets them solemnly and introduces himself as Ser Cortnay Penrose. At her other side is Renly.

Brienne's friend and former lady-in-waiting seems eager to talk to them, which means they don't have to 'test the bed' before meeting her in the main solar. Still dressed in leather, she introduces them to her son with Robert. "Edric," she announces, "the little Lord of Storm's End."

After both Jaime and Brienne cuddle with Edric, they sit down to talk about everything that happened to each of them after she left King's Landing. Lyanna has way more questions than Rhaella about how they got together, but it's nothing more than what they faced with Ashara, Obara, Dacey, Arthur and Bronn through these months, so he lets his wife answer them with ease. When she's satisfied, she shares her own story.

"Things were a bit confusing when I arrived," she begins. "The only thing everyone knew for sure was that Ser Cortnay was the castellan, but nobody knew for whom. Who held Storm's End, Renly or my unborn child? I straight up told them I'd rule in my baby's name even before it was born, and that would only change if I lost it. Ser Cortnay tried to lessen my power at first, but I threatened him with my archery skills and reminded him the Crown is equally held by a king and a queen, so he relented."

He crosses his legs. "You two looked rather close when we arrived."

She shrugs. "Oh, things got better between us. He was impressed when I told him I was the Knight of the Laughing Tree in Harrenhal, so he began to watch me train. But what really brought us close was Edric… and Mya."

Brienne looks confused, but the memory comes right away. "Mya Stone?"

Lyanna nods. Her next words are less animated, but she holds herself strong. "Rhaella and I talked a lot in private, even in King's Landing, and we exchanged letters afterwards. When I told her about Mya, she advised me to bring her to Storm's End, to protect her and make sure she and Edric had a good relationship. She said the best way to ensure bastards won't move against their trueborn siblings and to give them love." She sighs. "Cortnay has been of great help in this. I have trouble loving Mya, but he makes up for it, so she doesn't seem to notice."

"Can we meet her?"

"Of course," she says, smiling now. "She spends the days with her mother in the stables. That's how we've been bonding, actually; I let her pick my horse and we care for it together."

She finally confirms she and Cortnay have slept together a few times. "I've been drinking moon tea," she says, "but we have an agreement to marry in case it fails. For now, though, we'd rather just enjoy ourselves."

"I never thought I'd hear such a thing from a Stark," he blurts out.

She laughs. "Father would freak out if he knew. My brothers too—don't tell Ned, by the way." She waves a hand in the air, dismissively. "Obara's influence, no doubt."

"And Dacey's," Brienne adds.

"Hers, too. Which one is getting more with Ser Bronn, by the way?"

"No idea. Every time I think I know, they seem to switch."

The two women laugh at that, and Jaime's lips curl up in an attempt to grin.

When they approach Griffin's Roost, Brienne tenses up. He nudges his horse closer to hers. "Jon is here, my love," he reminds her.

"Our Master of War doesn't know that Ronnet threw a rose at me in another lifetime," she replies.

"But surely he knows his cousin' nature," he argues. "And you're Queen now, my sweetling. Even if he wants to, Ronnet won't utter a single mean word about you."

She smiles at him, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

Indeed, Ronnet doesn't say a word about Brienne when he knows they can hear him. However, Jaime still overhears him making fun of the Queen to his friends. He and Arthur are looking for a place to spar quietly when they hear his voice. "Mark my words, we'll have another Great Council when the King and the Queen die without heirs. No way Jaime Lannister will bed that cow, even if her dragon blood is what secures his throne."

The other boys laugh along, and Jaime holds his sword tight. He and Arthur exchange glances and step out of the woods. "Your concern for the future of the Iron Throne is moving, lad," he says with a sharp voice and a sharper grin, startling all young men, "but unnecessary. I assure you, the Queen and I face no trouble in our attempts to conceive heirs. Now, Ser Arthur, what do we do to people who disrespect a King or a Queen?"

"Aerys doused them in wildfire," he replies, "as Queen Brienne can attest from her time in his court."

He hums. "We are not Aerys," he quips, "but I don't think his words should go unpunished either. What do you suggest?"

"Let the lad spend some time reflecting about his behavior in the cells," Ser Arthur suggests. "Perhaps Lord Jon can assist?"

Jon does assist. He unceremoniously throws his cousin in the cells and kicks out all the boys who laughed with him. "Next time you're caught disrespecting the Queen or the King, your tongue will be cut off," he threatens.

Brienne is a bit shocked at the threat—even though Jon's regard for her is well known—but thanks the three of them all the same. After they make love that night, she confesses a few things to him. "Before Ronnet arrived in Tarth, Roelle told me I could only be bedded if the candles were out, the moon was hidden and my face was buried in the pillow."

He's heard it more than once, in Winterfell and in King's Landing. Ever since the first time she's shared that horrendous tale, he's been extra mindful of the light in the room they are making love in. He doesn't remember ever bedding her in the dark, nor of any occasion he wasn't looking right into her eyes when he entered her. He'd have done it regardless, but her story drove him to make sure she'd never question who he was seeing when in bed together.

He knows she questioned it anyway when he left her, but now she knows she's loved, and it's his self-assigned duty to never let her forget.

"I was really nervous when he approached Evenfall," she continues. "I kept remembering her lessons and telling myself I'd make my father proud by securing a match, even if I'd spend my life suffering in the process. But then he threw that rose and… I cried that night, despite being nearly eighteen years old. I was so ugly he couldn't stand to be near me even for a day."

His first answer is to make love to her once again, kissing and touching until she screams his name loud enough to be heard all over the castle—hopefully from the cells too. When he rolls off her, he brings her to lie on top of him. "He's an idiot," he whispers, caressing her hair. "Unworthy of you in every way possible."

She buries her face in his neck. "My looks were not his fault," she mumbles, "or mine. You found me ugly when we first met."

"Not as much as I made you believe," he says softly. "We met at nighttime, and I was genuinely surprised you were a woman. It's not every day one finds a lady warrior, especially out of Dorne and Bear Island. After that… I was mostly taunting you. Trying to get you riled up."

"It worked," she replies. "You said nothing new, and yet you managed to be more annoying than I was used to."

"Oh, now you admit I provoked you into anger."

"Well, I couldn't admit it then, could I?"

He lets out a chuckle, to his own surprise. "No, it wouldn't have been wise. Anyway, all I needed was a bit of exposure to your beautiful heart to realize you were just as stunning on the outside too." He moves a hand to her hip, caressing it lightly with his thumb. "Your beauty is unique, my love, because it must be earned. It's not every man who has access to it."

She raises her head and smiles at him. "I don't need anyone else finding me beautiful," she whispers. "Not when I have you."

They don't sleep much that night.

They stop by the ruins of Summerhall before heading to the Dornish Marches, where Ser Barristan is from. "It was a nice place before it burned," the knight comments. "Rhaegar liked to come here when he was older. Remember, Arthur?"

"Yes," his sworn brother replies. "I liked it when I was the one to escort him here. A bit boring, yes, but his music had a calming effect."

Their first stop is in Nightsong, which reminds his wife of her first betrothed, the only one she had in both lifetimes. Then, in Blackhaven, they meet with Beric Dondarrion, who looks vastly different from the one who fought with them in Winterfell. Barristan looks so at ease in Harvest Hall that he and Brienne decide to give him vacation time. "Come back to King's Landing after our second trip," he tells the older knight. "You deserve some rest, and clearly your ancestral home is the best place for it."

Their last stop is Weeping Town, where he buys Brienne a necklace with a sapphire pendant. When they get in bed later, she climbs atop of him wearing only the necklace.

When they finally get on the ship to King's Landing, he decides to confess something. "I know Renly is a kid nowadays," he says, "but I couldn't help but get jealous in Storm's End."

She stares at him with wide eyes. "I… Even if I didn't have my memories, I wouldn't be in love with him," she argues. "It took years from today for us to meet."

"I know," he says, "but… he was kind to you from the start. I can't boast of that."

"You can't," she agrees, "but you can boast of so much more, your initial rudeness doesn't even sting now."

She kisses him for emphasis.