Market day in the small seaside town of Castleport was one of the biggest festivities on the island of Tarth. The docks and village streets bustled with activity. Delicacies and wares from every corner of the known world were displayed to catch the eye and the coin of passing customers. Puppet shows and panomimes delighted the children. Exotic fineries from far off lands tempted the eyes of the buyers. Every family on the island was drawn to the port with the promise of a grand and exciting time. The Lannisters of Evenfall were no exception.

Jaime drove the wagon along the sandy path that skirted the sapphire waters of his adopted home, his wife Brienne at his side, a sleeping cooing bundle in her arms. He kept the horses at a slow walk, throughly enjoying every moment with the family he once could not have dreamt he would have. In the back, two small boys did their best to wrestle in the moving cart. The pair, not separated by much more than a year in age, unleashed their punches and presented quite the tussle with their younger sister seated between them.

"Stop it!" The little girl demanded as she was jostled about by her brothers.

"Settle down back there, you two." Jaime ordered his sons. "You'll fall out on your heads." He called, trying to hide his grin.

"Settle down!" The little girl repeated with far more intensity, huffing haughtily and nodding her empathetic agreement.

"Yes, Father." His eldest son answered dutifully. "Yes, Father." The second son echoed. Brienne smiled sweetly at her husband, delighted by their children's mischief, and was answered with the adoring twinkle in Jaime's eyes as he regarded her.

It had not yet been a decade since Jaime had been pulled from the rubble of The Red Keep by his brother, Tyrion. The younger Lannister's keen eye had discerned a ragged and shallow breath escaping Jaime's injured lungs as he lay holding their sister under the heap of bricks that had taken her life. Fearful that Jaime might be labeled a traitor for his apparent return to Cersei, Tyrion had hidden the broken knight for moons as he healed. When at last Jaime made his triumphant return from the dead, the woman he truly loved had been named Lord Commander of the Kings Guard. King Bran, as if he had known all along, declared Jaime Master of War and appointed him to the Small Council alongside Brienne. While in Kings Landing, Jaime spent most of his time groveling for the Lord Commander's forgiveness and explaining his real purpose to Brienne, which had been to keep her protected by ensuring Cersei's death. To that end at least he had been successful, though it had nearly cost his life and his true love.

Somehow, Jaime was successful in the baring of his soul to Brienne and had secured her forgiveness, as well as her hand in marriage. The two were joined as man and wife in Evenfall's own Sept. As if the path had always been forged before them, King Bran released Brienne and Jaime from their oaths. The couple took up residence on Tarth where Jaime swore himself to the service of the Evenstar. He would, until his last breath be proud protector and Sworn Sword to both Lord Selwyn and his daughter, who would one day inherit the title and rule over their island home. Jaime could not help but ponder the truth of Brienne's sentiment in the words she penned upon his page in The White Book. It was Podrick who had shown him the entry she had so carefully crafted. 'Died protecting his queen,' it read. He very nearly had died, and truly Brienne was his queen, not only as the leader of Tarth, but it was she who ruled his heart. Within a year of their vows, Brienne blessed Jaime with their first son. Their other beloved babes soon followed. It was those same children whose youthful squabbles now amused their parents as they made the short journey from their home to the market at Castleport.

Jaime maneuvered the wagon carefully through the milling crowds which parted to let the family pass. The locals were well acquainted with The Lady Evenstar and her family. Merchants and sailors not native to Tarth had no doubt from the fine wood and exquisite detailing of the craft that it carried the Lords of the island. All along the road, people made way for the vehicle to reach its usual terminus beneath the sheltering bows of a large ancient oak growing strong at the bend where sand-covered road become wooden dock.

With a wide smile and a quick step, Jaime hopped down from the wagon with the agility and spryness of a man half his age. He swore that though he was more than ten years his wife's senior, it was Brienne and the children who kept him young. He tied the team to the sturdy tree and gently helped Brienne alight from her seat in the family's wagon, their youngest resting softly in her arms. Their two sons took their father's lead and jumped boisterously to the ground, each eager for the adventures the day promised. Immediately, they resumed the knightly battle which their father had quelled along their journey.

"I want to visit the toy maker." The eldest, who had been named for his mother's dear lost brother Galladon pleaded, hopes of securing a new handmade treasure already burning in his heart.

"Please, may go to the candy maker's kitchen? Please, can we have some sweets?" The younger boy begged. He was the namesake of his father's brother and The King's Hand, Tyrion.

The boys circled their mother, imaginary swords clashing, both protecting the very woman who had taught them the skills they now so exuberantly displayed. Brienne smiled at her sons, enjoying their games, and happy to allow them whatever their hearts desired. She had never expected to be either wife or mother. Yet, The Gods had seen fit to gift her with not only a loving marriage, but also a growing passel of beloved children. It seemed all Jaime need do was look at her to get another babe on her. He and their children were blessings Brienne would never take for granted.

"I am sure there will be plenty of time to see everything." Brienne assured the boys with a smile while tending to the infant sister whom their playful shouts had awakened.

Jaime watched his sons proudly for a moment before reaching to scoop his eldest daughter from the wagon and into his arms. "And what of you, my dear Joanna?" He asked intently of the little girl named for his mother. "What is it you most desire?" Jaime questioned the child who had celebrated her fifth nameday not a fortnight previous. He was already planning the many ways he intended on spoiling his children.

"I would very much like to watch the Pantomime, Father." Joanna, who strongly favored her mother answered happily, nestling comfortably into her usual spot in the crook of Jaime's handless arm.

"And so you shall, My Sweetling." Jaime promised, bowing low to his daughter while still holding her securely in his grip. The little girl giggled with delight and held tightly to her father's neck.

Jaime then turned to Brienne. "Shall we, Dearest?" He motioned toward the bustling avenue ahead of them.

Brienne cleared her throat, a sly twinkle in her eye. "I have a spot of business I must see to." She blushed. Her plans were to visit the leatherworker.

Jaime's own nameday was not far off, and she wished to commission a new scabbard for Widows Wail, his grand Valyrian Steel blade. Her own which hung even now by her side and housed Oathkeeper, the glorious mate of her husband's sword, was embellished with a single heart. The corner of her lips brushed upward thinkng of the day he had given her the grand weapon and pledged his heart to her, always, the only way he then could. Brienne ignored the urge to reach into the pocket of the flowing wide-legged britches she wore below her soft leather gambeson in order to check the small parchment upon which she had drawn the design. It featured two strong hearts intertwined, as theirs were.

With a small pout of feigned insult, and more than a little intrigue, Jaime relented. "Very well then." He lifted his chin. "Go on about your itinerary." He jested. "We shall be somewhere in the crowd." He laughed, nodding to his eldest son, and resting his arm around the younger boy's shoulder.

Brienne smiled in response. "Have a wonderful time." She told them. "I shall find you when my errands are concluded." Brienne nodded.

"Children." She said to her little ones. "Try to keep your father out of trouble." Brienne bid them, and then reached to accept Jaime's kiss. His expression registered the displeasure he felt at being separated from her for any length of time.

"We will, Mother." The boys answered in unison, their tone cheerful. They were too young to notice the nuances of their parents' marital teasing.

"I'll watch him too, Mother." Little Joanna agreed, her tone serious and stern.

Brienne chuckled at the dire warning in her daughter's voice. "Thank you My Precious." She answered. Brienne placed a loving kiss on their daughter's cheek as she moved in close to her husband.

"It appears I am in good hands." Jaime chuckled, and flashed a devastating grin at his wife.

Brienne answered his assurance with an exuberant laugh as Jaime reached over young Tyrion, still at his side, and bent to cradle their youngest daughters head. The newest addition to their loving happy family had been born only a moon before. The babe, who wore the name Annalise to honor the mother and sisters Brienne had never known, blinked up into her father's face, blissfully unaware. She was simply happy to be secure and comfortable in her mother's arms.

"I won't be long." Brienne promised, bringing her free hand up to trace Jaime's jaw.

"I intend to hold you to that." He swore, before reaching for another kiss. They stood amongst their happy children and savored each other before reluctantly parting to spend a much too long portion of the day apart.

Brienne spent the better part of an hour with the leatherworker discussing the details of her gift for Jaime. For another half, she browsed through the fresh delicacies offered by some of Tarth's most fertile fields. The tiny babe she cradled in her arms seemed very well content basking in unfettered attention and seeing to her duties as the Evenstar's companion. The latter consisted of nuzzling into her mother's neck, and dozing upon a comfortably familiar shoulder.

"Will that be all, My Lady?" A friendly gray haired farmer asked, collecting the bushel of sweet ripe berries Brienne has chosen. They sun ripened fruit would be delivered to Evenfall where they would be turned into sweet pies and jams for the Lannisters' children.

"Have the oranges ripened?" Brienne asked hopefully. The sweet Tarthian citrus was a favorite of Jaime's and would make a colorful addition to the feast at his upcoming nameday celebration.

Before the man could form his response to The Lady Evenstar, the scratchy whine of a voice she would never forget chirped over her shoulder. "Lady Brienne." It rasped. "I would know you anywhere?" Brienne turned with a start, her eyes wide with the dread of raw painful memories. Clutching her sleeping babe closer to her as if protecting the child, Brienne's stare froze upon the face she never dreamed she would see again, not even in her worst nightmares.

Jaime smiled adoringly at his children as they encircled his feet, captured with every step in the crossed wooden toy swords he had just purchased for them. Once the greatest knight in The Realm, Jaime was now certain that even he did not possess such flawless skills at such a young age as those exhibited by the babes with which Brienne had blessed him. There was not a prouder father in all of Westeros. He was, however, beginning to grow nervous as to the whereabouts of their mother and little sister. They had already called upon the toy maker, as well as the candyman's kettle, sat through two pantomimes, carefully watched the blacksmith's glowing iron, and patted every baby farm animal within walking distance of the bustling market grounds. Brienne should have joined them by now. It was not like her to be late, or to miss so much of their day together.

Rounding a small stand of trees that split the market grounds, Jaime gave an audible sigh of relief when at last he spied his dear wife across several rows of goods. His grin widened for a moment, mesmerized by the vision of Brienne, until he noted the expression which hung on her face. He had never known his glorious lady knight to wear such a look of aversion and resentment. Even when they battled the dead at Winterfell her countenance had not been so shaken as it now appeared. He could see that she was conversing with a stranger, or more accurately, was being spoken to by someone whose face he could not see but who wore the plain modest robes of a Septa. He knew not what the woman must be saying to his beloved, though alarm rose within Jaime as he discerned the icy glare in Brienne's eyes, and her jaw set like steel against the stranger's proximity.

"Come, My Dear Ones!" Jaime ordered the children. "You mother needs us!" He charged, speeding across the field, three very small but determined young Lannister Lions raising their swords at his heels.

After what seemed an eternity Jaime finally reached Brienne, their children settling into review behind him, wooden weapons still held at the ready. Protectively, he reached and grasped Brienne around the waist, nestling both her and their youngest child to his side. Jaime could feel Brienne relax in his grasp. "Here you are, My Love." He announced. "At last we've found you." His tone dripped with the relief that washed over him while his wary eyes never left the wrinkled face of the elderly Septa who had cornered his wife.

"I am glad you are here, My Darling." Brienne replied, her chin sweeping upward haughtily in the Septa's direction. "I should not have terried so long." Brienne's words were meant for Jaime, yet the disdainful scoff in her expression was for the benefit of the now feeble being, who seemed so small in her presence.

"Not to worry, all is well now." Jaime kissed Brienne's cheek, and glared at the Septa.

The old woman drew back in shock. "You are Ser Jaime Lannister." She gasped.

"My reputation precedes me." Jaime smiled lovingly at Brienne, wondering if there would ever come a day that he would find recognition based on his current happy life, and not his past. He noticed Brienne still bristled in the company of the Holy Sister.

Recovering her composure, the Septa sneered at Brienne with a self-congratulating air. "It seems you have been quite fortunate in your match…My Lady." She offered Brienne reluctant approval.

Certain that he deserved none of the credit for the blessing of the union, that he himself had almost destroyed, and feeling wholly unworthy to claim the gentle hand which was joined to his, Jaime quickly corrected the elderly woman's misconception. "I beg your pardon." Jaime lowered his chin in reverence to Brienne. "Our marriage is one of love, the only match which occured is the way my heart fits so perfectly with that of my Lady Wife." He turned to study the silhouette of Brienne's face, every angle and curve so precious to him. "I am the fortunate one. Each day I thank the very Gods you serve that this glorious woman looked twice at one such as me." He declared, pulling his beloved wife even more tightly to him. The length of Jaime's cloak stretched over his shoulders, weighted by Joanna's tugging as she took refuge from the ominous stranger behind her father, yet was still curious to witness the exchange.

Brienne chest rose with the heavy sigh of security she had always felt with Jaime next to her. In the bear pit, on the field of battle at Riverrun, at Winterfell, before ever they pledged their hearts to one another they were as one. She knew that Jaime sensed her discomfort. "My Dearest." Brienne began, bringing her eyes to his. "This is Septa Roelle." Brienne said, disgust in her voice.

The blood burned hot in Brienne's veins. The thought of this woman, who had never given her a kind word or a moment of grace being so close to her children made her long to draw Oathkeeper in protection. She stopped herself. The Septa seemed on her best behavior, the same way her entire countenance changed whenever Brienne's father entered the room. She thought it almost comical that her one time tormentor suddenly grew quite contrite in the company of her legendary husband.

"Septa Roelle?" Jaime questioned, appalled. He snapped to attention, barely able to control his anger and contempt. He well understood Brienne's acquaintance with the gnarled old woman, as well as the repulsion in her tone. She had long ago detailed Septa Roelle's hateful conduct toward her when they had discussed finding a follower of The Faith to supervise their own childrens' guidance. Luckily, they had found a kind and benevolent Septon to see to their family's needs. This woman who stood before them now, was far from anything Jaime would wish to be near his children, or Brienne.

If one had not known better, they might have felt genuine appreciation for Septa Roelle as she melted into a kind demeanor. "Aye Ser Jaime." She affirmed. "Lord Selwyn charged me with Lady Brienne's instruction and care when she was but a small child." The woman's eyes trailed to the youngsters standing diligently at their father's hip.

He drew himself up imposingly. "I know exactly who you are." He nearly spat on the ground. "Brienne has told me all about you." He seethed. "She has described in detail your atrocious treatment of her when she was a girl." Jaime eye's narrowed with hatred. "And you can go fuck yourself, you miserable old hag!" He seethed.

Behind Jaime, his sons gasped and stared at each other over their father's use of such forbidden language. Their lips drew upward in half concealed smiles, laughter at the unfamiliar sentiment threatening in their chests. Neither had ever known the wrath or anger of their father, but each was sure it would be quick to follow should ever an equally vulgar phrase be hurled from their own mouths. It was their little sister, Joanna, who made clear the sentiments which the boys tried hard to hide as she stepped bravely from behind Jaime's protection.

"Go fuck yourself!" Joanna repeated with the ferocity and bravery she had inherited from her mother, brandishing her small dull wooden blade. Unable to hold themselves silent, Galladon and Tyrion collapsed upon each other and fell to the ground in laughter, awaiting the punishment that was sure to be visited on the tiny girl.

Much to the boys' surprise Jaime and Brienne dissolved in laughter at their daughter's innocent display. Jaime bent and scooped the child into his arms. "Joanna Lannister." He chuckled. "Normally we do not use such language." He warned sweetly, and turned a condescending smirk in Septa Roelle's direction. "However, in this case, I believe we can make an exception." He laughed and kissed her soft little cheek. The girl's brothers stared with mouths gaping, now certain their sister could get away with anything.

Turning his back on Septa Roelle with the superiority cultivated from years of study under his own father's lordship, Jaime addressed Brienne happily. "Shall we my wife?" He directed her toward where they had left the wagon tied, his arm returning to its familiar place around her. "We have all had an exciting day." He asserted. "I think we should be getting our children home." Jaime grinned.

Brienne beamed at Jaime. "I believe that is a wonderful idea, Husband." She agreed wholeheartedly.

The loving couple sealed their concurrence with a tender kiss, just as the babe in Brienne's arm awoke with a soft little laugh. Jaime and Brienne happily gathered their children, ignoring the woman who stared after them. The little family walked off together, their laughter still echoing behind them. In their wake a shocked Septa Roelle, her jaw having fallen open, could only watch them go.