The wedding day dawned as cold and grey as any other typical day in the North. Brienne had been awake since earlier, too nervous to rest for much longer. Not wanting to disturb Jaime's sleep with her turning and tossing, she tried to lay still under the sheets and furs. What wouldn't she give for a dummy to train with at that very moment. A couple of weeks earlier, she had started to exercise again using dummies for her practice with the sword. She didn't dare to spar with anyone else for fear that her belly could get an accidental hit, but she had requested dummies and even Jaime agreed to that. The maester had given the go-ahead to mild exercise. Brienne felt much better at four and a half moons pregnant than at a couple of moons before (coinciding with the duration of Jaime's permanent presence in her life), and she needed to channel her energy through her training. Beating a dummy wasn't the same as fighting an actual person, but it helped her keep her skills honed and her body fit.

She was struggling to recall the wedding vows she and Jaime had been rehearsing for a few days. Thankfully the Old Gods' ceremony was short and easy to carry out. And the best of all was that just a small handful of people attended to those Northern events. In their case, their witnesses would be Sansa and Pod, and no one else. Brienne didn't fancy at all ostentatious and crowded monstrosities like Joffrey's wedding. Hers and Jaime's would be the complete opposite. The feast afterwards would be almost like any other meal at the main hall, with the attendants more formally dressed and the addition of a small band of musicians.

Their wedding attires were gorgeous. Sansa and the seamstresses had carried them to their chambers a week before in a whirlwind of fabrics. Brienne and Jaime were asked to try on their new garments so the pertinent adjustments could be made on time. Once the women were satisfied with the results (after manipulating and prodding here and there), they scurried away like a tidal wave. Jaime had complained that he had suffered pinpricks all around his mauled anatomy, rubbing exaggeratedly the supposedly injured body parts and asking Brienne to kiss them better. That had earned one of her legendary trademark eyerolls.

She chastised herself for feeling nervous. It wasn't due to last minute doubts or anything of that kind. She wasn't scared at all of marrying the love of her life. What bothered her were her own self-confidence issues. What if Jaime regretted his decision to marry her? What if, with his natural exuberant nature, he got bored of her plain character?

She shook those thoughts, determined to get rid of the doubts. Jaime had had plenty of time to change his mind in the two moons they had been betrothed and sharing the same quarters. Every day he had looked perfectly happy in his typical flamboyant style, always making jokes and puns and searching for ways to engage her in his mischiefs. They had a lot of fun together with the most simple things.

One day Brienne had asked him if he didn't miss the luxuries and preposterously expensive way of life of the Lannister house, at least in its past splendor. He answered that, while it was true his house's riches had made his life much more comfortable and he had shamelessly taken advantage of his position of power on plenty of occasions (what had saved her life in the Riverlands too, he boasted jokingly, to which she punched his arm without much venom), he could perfectly go without any of that. He cared little for riches and status. I just care for having a pig-headed wench who manhandles my old body and doesn't let me get away with anything, he had complained with his best whining voice. Such a crybaby, she had replied with another light punch and a grin.

She smiled at the shadows of the bedroom. If someone had told her years ago that she would marry the Kingslayer, she would have felt pity for the poor drunk or lunatic (or both) for their ravaged brain that conjured up such nonsense.

Years ago, she would have been just like a bothersome fly to him. She had indeed been, at the beginning.

Life took the most unexpected paths.

Then she turned her thoughts to the clothes Sansa had gifted them. She never cared for such silly things as fashion, but her lady friend had hit the spot with the styles of the garments. As promised, she wouldn't wear a dress. It was a combination of breeches and a long tunic with a feminine cut, perfectly fitted to her shape and falling beautifully down her prominent stomach. They showed off the Tarth colours. As for Jaime's, the trousers, tunic and jerkin with the Lannister colours made him stand out like a lighthouse in the middle of a grey sea. The outfits were complete with two pairs of shiny new black boots.

She couldn't believe she was looking forward to donning those pieces of fabric. Sansa would come personally to help her get dressed and style her hair. Brienne had acquiesced without opposition, aware that her Northern friend cared for those little gestures born more from true affection than from typical wedding traditions. It was her way of conveying that it was important for her to spend those last moments in their mutual company before Brienne became a married woman.

Just then, she felt Jaime stirring by her side. "Morning, my soon-to-be wife," he murmured sleepily, grinning lazily with closed eyes and reaching for her with his left hand.

She took it. "Morning, my soon-to-be-husband."

He squeezed, opening sleepy green eyes. "Ready to tackle your last day as a free woman?"

She performed her trademark eyeroll, exactly as he knew she would. He grabbed her waist and pulled her to him gently. "Let's carry through the ceremony here in this bed. The dolts that invented weddings should have spared us couples the bother of getting out of bed and wasting valuable time only to come back later to bed spent with wine to clumsily consummate the marriage. Absurd. More ridiculous even here in the North. Who wants to freeze their asses out there when there are warm beds?"

She turned to get up. "Come on, lazybones. Sansa will be here anytime."

He didn't let go of her. "Please. Stay with me here for a little while. I promise I'll behave like a good boy as soon as Sansa knocks."

Brienne complied with her skeptical glare. "I doubt you'll behave, but I'll stay for now as you asked so politely." They kept contentedly silent until she spoke again. "If this child and the others to come are half as you are, I'm going to be totally nuts before I reach a mature age," she predicted, feigning a tired grin.

He rubbed her belly. "The others to come? You're an insatiable lustful woman. You haven't pushed this one out yet and you're already thinking of making others. Have pity on this old man's cock," he chastised mockingly.

Brienne turned around to retort, but just then a loud knock sounded on the door and they jumped out of bed, laughing. Jaime quickly got as decent as he was capable of when recently roused, what wasn't much (he slept completely naked), and went to open the door. Sansa blushed instantly and looked away at the sight of his bare torso. There were some things a lady with a refined and modest education couldn't ever overcome.

Brienne pitied amusedly the poor girl for having to cope with Jaime's antics. "Jaime, you just said you would behave," she berated from the bedroom.

He turned his face in the direction of her voice. "I'm behaving. I've put on my breeches. The alternative was opening the door in my nameday's suit," he answered innocently.

Sansa recovered swiftly, suppressing her mirth at the funny couple, and adopted her commanding manner. "Morning, lovebirds. Get lost, Lannister, out to Pod's chamber. You have your clothes there ready for you. Now, let the ladies work." She signaled with her thumb emphatically in the mentioned direction, dismissing him.

"Morning, Your Grace," he uttered cheekily with a bow, and he left, cracking a wide grin. "See you later, my wench," he yelled from the corridor.

Both Sansa and Brienne rolled their eyes and burst in laughter. Just then, two flushed and giggling seamstresses (they had crossed paths with the half naked groom, as it seemed), walked into the room carrying two long bundles wrapped in protective fabrics. The laughter died in Brienne's mouth. She didn't expect two sets of clothes. The day she had tried on the garments, there was just one outfit.

The seamstresses put the items on the rumpled bed with blushes on their cheeks, curtsied hurriedly and stepped out, giggling like the teenagers they were.

Sansa bent over the bed and encouraged Brienne to come close by. "They don't bite, Brienne. Come here." She did and Sansa unwrapped the mysterious bundle. Brienne gasped in surprise.

"My mother's wedding cloak. How have you got it?" It was the cloak her father had placed onto her mother's shoulders. She had seen it multiple times hanging on Lady Tarth's closet at Evenfall. She often had caressed it secretly whenever she felt achingly lonely.

Sansa smiled smugly. "I asked your father to let me borrow it for the ceremony and he was only too eager to send it. He said you can keep it for your sept ceremony at Evenfall and for your future daughters."

Just then, Brienne enveloped her friend in a crushing embrace with tears in her eyes. "Thank you, my lady. It's such a wonderful present."

"Now, now, Brienne, it wouldn't do for one of the witnesses to have one or two ribs broken before the ceremony," Sansa muffled in her friend's chest.

Brienne let her go with a tearful laugh and both grinned at each other.

Sansa moved eagerly to the bed again and grabbed the outfit. "Come on, let's get you ready."


In the meanwhile, Jaime had charged into Pod's chamber and his mouth was agape. On Pod's small table was laying Joanna's wedding cloak.

"The queen asked your aunt Lady Genna for it. There's a letter along with the cloak addressed to you, Ser," Pod explained simply. The boy pointed at the missive waiting next to the cloak.

Jaime took it and unrolled the parchment with shaky fingers.

My dear nephew,

I wasn't much surprised when I was brought a letter from the Queen in the North. As you surely suspect, I've watched you and kept updated about all your comings and goings since you still wore diapers, so I know everything about your most recent affairs in Winterfell and I've also researched about your bride, Lady Brienne of Tarth. I met Lord Selwyn, his wife and their baby son once, in our youth. Good, honest people. Their misfortunes were well known, but I ignored the surviving daughter's fate until Lady Catelyn Stark sent you South with that girl. I was informed about the strange friendship you both developed. She must be one hell of a woman to have earned your respect and love, and freed you from Cersei's clutches. I had lost all hope about you finding a woman worthy of your immense love and devotion, but luckily time has proved me wrong.

Give that girl a hug on my behalf.

I'd like so much to be present at your wedding, my boy, but these are difficult times also here, at Casterly Rock. Your uncle Emmon is quite ill. The maester fears is an incurable ailment that will consume his body slowly. I can't leave him here alone. He needs me. The gods know ours hasn't been a particularly happy marriage, but we don't hate each other either, and now in our old age we've come to rely on one another like never before. Losses and loneliness bring people close, and besides, beggars can't be choosers.

Sansa has asked me for your mother's wedding cloak so you can put it on your bride's shoulders, and of course I'll send it to Winterfell. She has told me about your deeds and goings in the North: You knighting the girl, you both fighting together against a whole army of living corpses, your romantic involvement with the girl. And also about your stupidities: You dishonouring the girl and getting her with a baby unkowingly, you going back to King's Landing to try to save Cersei. You're too lucky you escaped uninjured or the girl would have been left alone with a bastard, you fool. Cersei was a hopeless case. But you've always had a heart too big for your own good, and I 'm certain that's one of the many reasons why your Ser Brienne loves you. That poor girl didn't stand a chance. I'm glad you've found someone who cares for you and who knows how to keep you in line. Congratulations, by the way, for gifting me a little grandnephew or grandniece. One I'm proud to proclaim as yours, unlike the others, who were never truly yours.

I'll keep the boat afloat for both you and your rascal brother. The West is ready for any of you to claim the Rock. The bannermen and the armies will follow your leadership as soon as you call for them. You can't postpone your duties forever. I've written these same lines to Tyrion in the hopes they sneak into your thick skulls. You must think of your children, Whatever you decide, they'll always have their place here. I'd love to meet them before I die, so start planning about dropping your sorry asses here and bringing your bride and offspring.

I'm very happy for you, my dear boy. Joanna would be too. She'll be with you in that cloak.

Your loving aunt,

Genna.