Jaime rolled up the map awkwardly, finding yet another thing he could not do successfully with only one hand. Addam gave him an amused look and helped him. Jaime was glad someone found it funny and graced his friend with a scowl. "I spoke to Brienne last night," Addam said.

Jaime shot him a confused look. "I know you did. I was there."

Addam shook his head. "After you passed out. You've become a real light-weight, by the way," his friend added unhelpfully, not alleviating Jaime's scowl. He did not need the reminder that somehow his little brother, despite his inferior height, could hold his alcohol far better than Jaime. Brienne had told him the second he had woken up this morning, his head banging and the sun making his eyes want to scream. Thankfully, his wife's chest had been there to shelter him.

"What did you speak to Brienne about then?" Jaime asked, placing the rolled map on top of the pile of paperwork and waiting for an instant to check it would not fall.

"Cersei," Addam said and Jaime swallowed, leaving his eyes on the pile of papers. He blinked and then turned to his friend, shaking his head.

"Brienne already knows everything. It's okay."

And it was. Jaime was sure that Addam needed someone to talk to about what he had known was going on. He'd been a very good friend by keeping it all to himself. He was a far better friend than Jaime deserved.

"She seems wonderful," Addam said honestly and Jaime nodded, his face completely serious.

"Sometimes I think that I'm dreaming and she doesn't really exist."

Addam snorted. "Well, don't worry about that. She exists and she adores you." Jaime grinned. "I don't know what you did to deserve such an incredible woman."

Jaime shrugged. "Must have done something to please the Gods. Anyhow, I won't complain. A wife who I can fight with and fuck? What more could I ask for?" Addam's chuckle made Jaime sure he agreed. "How is your wife, by the way?"

Addam shook his head. "I'm not sure. You have been blessed by finding a woman who loves you, Jaime, and who you love. We're not all so lucky."

Jaime swallowed at Addam's blunt honesty. "I thought you were fond of Myna." Addam shrugged. "What's happened?"

"I just find that I prefer being away to being there. I sit in the camps and all the other men are talking of returning home to their wives and all I can think is that I want it to go on for longer, stay away for longer. I love my children. I don't love her."

Jaime had never considered what it must be to live with love. He'd always had Cersei. Even when he thought he was going to have to marry some awful lady, like Lysa Arryn, he'd known that he would always love Cersei. "I'm sorry, Addam." Addam shook his head and scooped up the letter they had written to send to the Essosi troops who were approaching the twins.

"It's alright. Just, seeing you and Brienne, and Tyrion and Lady Sansa, reminded me that I'll never have that." Jaime thought that was quite a defeatist attitude but, if love was out there for Addam, it would find him where he least expected it, like it had for Jaime.

Jaime chuckled. "Sansa and Tyrion would not admit to being in love," he confessed quietly to Addam, following him out of the meeting room they had taken over to discuss battle plans. Brienne had been with them for a while, as well as Sansa and Tyrion, but they'd all claimed various excuses to get away. And, truthfully, Jaime and Addam were best-qualified to plan battle strategy. Even Brienne was not as much help as Jaime had expected, though he should have considered that skill with the sword does not account for years of practice as a commander.

Addam's eyes flew up. "I thought that they had chosen the marriage. I did not realise it was arranged."

Shaking his head, Jaime said, "It wasn't. Well, I suppose Sansa arranged it. She had a terrible second marriage and wanted to be with someone who made her happy and made her feel safe. She proposed to Tyrion. They absolutely adore one another but he doesn't think she would ever love him because he's the way he is and she doesn't think he will ever love her more than he wants to serve Daenerys."

Addam's eyes widened. They turned the corner, heading towards the great hall where noises of armies celebrating one last night before they left for battle. "Do you think they'll ever figure it out?"

Jaime shrugged. "I'm hoping that while they're here on their own they'll have to. But, then again, they're both good at hiding what they feel, so who knows?" Addam was clearly surprised and Jaime imagined that he was not the only one who would be shocked by the true state of Sansa and Tyrion's marriage. Though they were not necessarily affectionate in public, anyone could see how much they loved each other in their daily interactions.

Brienne found them outside the dining hall. Her skin looked pale. Jaime greeted her with a kiss and cupped her face to say, "you don't look well, sweetling."

She shoved him off her immediately. "You know I was sick this morning, Jaime."

Jaime swallowed, feeling his skin going white at what seemed to be quite genuine anger. When was the last time she had truly been angry with him? Addam only chuckled and slapped Jaime on the back, jolting him away from Brienne's suddenly flushed face.

"I'll see you later, Jaime," Addam said, before leaning in to whisper, "she's pregnant, you moron. She's tired and the baby's messing her brain around. Do yourself a favour and think before you speak."

And then he pulled away and walked into the hall with a wink. Jaime watched him approach the front bench and take his seat next to Tyrion. "Brienne," Jaime said softly, reaching for her hand which she thankfully let him take. "I'm sorry. Can I do anything?"

She smiled at him. "Yes, please, can we go back to our room?" Jaime was bloody ravenous and he could see the amazing feast that Sansa had laid out in the dining hall but he also loved his wife and, anyway, they could order food if they needed it. Perhaps he would order something special for his wife.

"Of course," Jaime said, squeezing her hand. Sometimes it was easy to forget that, though his wife was so strong and fantastic, she was still a human being. And a woman living with a child growing inside her. "Come on."

XXX

"Dany, the battle will be just as much of a success in a week as it would be today," Jon said, stroking his wife's arm. She nodded and wiped the tears that had come when they reached their tent, after the meeting that had confirmed what they had feared: the illness that had taken the camp would mean a delay in taking the Twins.

There was still little doubt that they would win. They were the far superior force, with various styles of fighting and a larger army. The Golden Company would be strong but not strong enough to take them, provided that the men recovered from this illness.

"I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated," Dany said, sitting down at the mirror that she always carried from camp to camp. She moved her hand to the back of her plait, starting to fiddle it out of her hair. Jon approached, and kissed the top of her head. She looked up to smile at him and Jon remembered exactly why he loved her.

"I'll go and make one of Missandei's teas so you can sleep," he offered. She smiled, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

"Hmm, yes please," she said and then a teasing smile grew on her face. "Have Missandei do it, will you? You're no good."

Jon chuckled and nodded, ducking his head out of the camp. The illness would delay them but it would not take any of them down.

XXX

Brienne was well-loved by the Lannister troops quite quickly, Jaime was surprised to see. He didn't know if it was because she could beat any one of them in a battle - he doubted that was the case - or if it was because she was the reason they were not fighting for a mad queen any longer. Jaime thought it was highly likely that it was the latter, though he knew that the former had caused a grudging respect from each and every one of his commanders. The fact that she was carrying the Lannister heir was also likely to help.

She had yet to show, though, and it was not necessarily common knowledge. The rumours went around the camp, likely originating with the men who had seen Jaime fall to his knees before Brienne and kiss her stomach. Jaime did not mind. It meant that every one of the commanders was careful with her when sparring and protective over her safety when not. Brienne hated it. They offered her their chairs, they offered to carry things for her and they almost constantly asked how they were feeling.

It made Jaime positively gleeful to see them treating her so. His favourite part, however, was the friendship that was burgeoning between Brienne and Addam. Jaime was sure that it had begun when Addam had spoken to her about Cersei - not that Jaime knew exactly what had occurred in the course of that conversation. Whatever it was, Jaime enjoyed Brienne and Addam's friendship. It meant that, most evenings, they supped together, often with another military commander or two, to make them feel valued and to gain their insight on the battle plans. Bronn also often joined them.

Jaime had not seen much of his friend while they'd been at Winterfell. When he'd commented on it, Bronn had told him in no uncertain terms that it was because he was more focussed on his wife's cunt than Bronn's friendship, but, upon speaking to Tyrion, Jaime had discovered that Bronn had a fledgling friendship with one of the Northern girls and a lady to boot. Her name was Alys Karstark and she supposedly loved Jon Snow. Bronn had offered to help her get over that infatuation. Jaime had not told Brienne for fear that she would tell Sansa Stark. The last thing he needed was Bronn blaming him for losing him a castle a second time. He may be a Lannister but that would have been too many debts to pay.

Jaime sipped at the cup that his new squire had brought him. It was a tea of some sort that the boy had learned to make in the kitchens of Winterfell, where Jaime had found him and recruited him. He'd been rather jealous of Brienne having Podrick to boss around and so had found his own, who was far superior to Podrick, even if he was a Northerner.

Finishing his cup, Jaime stood at the sight of his wife approaching, chatting merrily with Addam. He kissed her in greeting, leading to wolf-whistles from the surrounding soldiers. Despite their respect for their lady, the Lannister soldiers did have a tendency to discuss the activities that occurred in their lieges' tent. Brienne hated it but Jaime just found it rather amusing and it was better than them insulting Brienne.

Brienne sat beside him. Jaime had to control himself not to lie his hand across her flat stomach. Not only did she hate him pawing at her like that, it would be proper proof to his camp that she was pregnant. And he really did not need the news getting back to Cersei. While Jaime trusted most of his commanders, he did not know the majority of his soldiers and anyone of them - or anyone who simply slipped into the camp - could plant poison in Brienne's food or drink, straight from Cersei's personal stores.

The thought made Jaime scan their surroundings, looking at every face and every banner. He considered making someone their taster so that they would die and not Brienne. That would be far preferable to Jaime, though he knew that Brienne would never agree. "Are you okay?" Brienne murmured, very close to his ear. Jaime smiled at the shiver that ran down his spine.

"Yes, sweetling," he replied, enjoying the way her face wrinkled at the nickname. Jaime enjoyed lavishing her with nicknames to annoy her, though his favourite was - and always would be - wench. "Just thinking. Did you beat Addam into the ground again?"

Brienne smirked. Fighting was one of few things that could put that look on her face. Fucking was another. That look made Jaime's breeches tighten in anticipation and he gave Brienne an intense look. When she flushed, Jaime knew that she understood him well. "When is dinner?" she whispered.

Jaime smirked, looking away from her at the commanders who were watching them closely. "Whenever we want it." Brienne bit her lip and Jaime grinned. He could have thought more deeply into the fact that sparring with his commanders made her horny, or he could just enjoy the fact that his wife wanted to fuck him in the middle of the afternoon.

With a nod and a wink at Addam, Jaime led Brienne to their tent, a respectable distance away from where his commanders were sharing a goblet of ale and a brief rest. They were followed by a wolf-whistle that made Jaime worry that Brienne would want to stop. She did not and Jaime only grinned as they disappeared inside. He was the luckiest man in the world, to have a wife in the camp. All those wolf-whistling fuckers only had a whore or their hand. With those three options, Jaime would choose 'wife' every time.

XXX

Jon stared at the skies, waiting for Dany to swoop back down on Drogon. It had been a week since they had paused to allow the men to recover from the sweating illness. They had lost a few hundred men but had managed to help most of them recover, but they needed a few days more - maybe up to a week - before they could continue onto the Twins to confidently win their first battle. The first battle was the most important. Jon's father had taught him that - his uncle. It could make or break the army's resolve. And, without resolve, a battle campaign was nothing.

Dany didn't cope very well with waiting around. Jon understood why. She'd spent a lot of time waiting in Essos to be able to come and take her throne back. To wait even longer now, especially after having come to save the North when she didn't need to, was another blow in their progress.

The army would have to get moving quickly, though. They had already eaten through their reserves and were hunting and scavenging to keep going. Every able-bodied man hunted by day, not only feeding the camp but also staying away from the sick.

Jon's thoughts were distracted from thoughts of war by the sight of Dany on Drogon. He wished he could see her face. When she came close, he knew that he would see her smile, her pure joy at flying with her child. The Mother of Dragons, his wife. Rhaegal swooped down soon after Drogon.

He watched Dany dip and dive. Watching her was like art before his eyes. It was as though she and Drogon were racing against Rhaegal, darting through the skies like two streaks of colour lighting up the skies.

Jon's smile only began to falter when he realised one streak was far wider than the other, and only growing wider. Rhaegal was coming closer while Drogon remained in the skies. Furrowing his brow, he strode over, closer to where he thought Rhaegal was and then thought better of it as the dragon approached at faster and faster speeds.

"Clear the area!" he bellowed to the soldiers, pointing to the sky. They were slow, too slow, and there were sick men in tents that would not move in the seconds they had. Jon stretched his palms, lost for a solution. "Quickly!"

Soldiers were moving but not fast enough - never fast enough. Rhaegal was close. Though he was far enough away, Jon stepped back further. He could see Rhaegal's scales, the way the gold glinted off the red. "Move!" Jon screamed as more soldiers stumbled from tents, moved from the centre, realised what was happening where they hadn't before. One soldier, a man Jon knew called Abelar, a good man but sick, stepped out from his tent. Jon watched his eyes widen, his mouth open and then his whole body disappear as a huge dragon crashed on top of him, an immense metal arrow poking from his neck.

If anyone were to ask him later, Jon would not remember what he did in those seconds except shout. He could not remember the words he said, the orders he gave, the actions he took. In fact, the moments between Rhaegal falling and Dany returning to the ground may as well have not existed. All he remembered was the heart-aching agony of knowing that his wife had lost her child.

XXX

There were no words that Jon could use, no comfort that he could bring her. That first night, she had sat with Rhaegal and sobbed. The Essosi soldiers had shared her grief in the whole, though the Unsullied did not show it and the Dothraki had odd rituals for it. They had respect for their Queen, their Khaleesi, and they believed that she was the Mother of Dragons, not simply the Wielder of Dragons.

The Northerners were less respectful. The Northerners remembered the men crushed beneath the dragon. For their sake, they were willing to march on the awful sellswords who had brought it down over an army camp. They were willing to take up arms and take revenge for the 231 men killed. For Dany's sake, they were willing to do less.

It wasn't Dany's fault. She did not understand the North. Even people who had grown up as close as the Eyrie did not understand the North. And Jon had asked her to come anyway and she had come and she had saved them but the Northerners did not see that. The Northerners saw that Sansa had fed them when there was no food and they saw that Arya had stuck the knife into the heart of the Night King.

Dany they saw as a tyrant, Aegon the Conqueror reborn, coming to forcing the North to sink to its knees again.

Jon knew that the North even preferred Sansa to him now, though they had not once. Bending the knee to Dany had been necessary - his sisters knew that too, though Sansa did not like it. But, in doing so, in saving Westeros with Dany's troops, Jon had lost the respect of the Northerners who saw him as weak and futile for needing the help of another - especially when they were a woman and practically an Essosi to boot. And when he was sharing her bed. He knew that he looked weak in front of the Northerners, in front of the whole of Westeros.

Jon had spent his whole life not caring what others thought of him. It was no trouble to continue that now. Sansa could have the North. She and Tyrion would be far better caretakers than Jon, especially now that he had married Dany and the Throne that came with her.

Dany, though, did care what people thought of her. And, when she was grieving her child and frustrated because she could not make progress in her life's work, the negative attitudes from the people she had put her entire life on hold to save turned that grief and desolation into anger.

When she had mounted her dragon, Jon had not been surprised. He understood that she needed to be with Drogon. When she had actually flown, he had been a little surprised, given the way that Rhaegal had died. And, when she had not returned five days later, Jon had not known what to do except to assemble their recovered troops and march on the Twins.