Brienne felt exhausted. She knew that spending the entire day with Jaime, teaching him how to care for their child, would surely be difficult. She did not imagine the extent to which it would leave her emotions in tatters. She had expected her nerves to be on edge, being so close to Jaime all day. What Brienne had not anticipated was the turmoil which swirled within her as she watched him with her child, his own son. She had seen it on his face, the look of amazement, of pure joy. He had truly reveled in spending time with boy. Even as part of her was on guard against him disappointing and devastating Galladon, she began to feel an overwhelming sense of peace with him, as if something from somewhere assured her that she need not doubt Jaime's commitment, or his devotion to their child. Tending to Galladon was to be his new duties, and to her surprise he had seemed happy to undertake the task. She understood that King Bran had decreed Jaime's change of station. However, she could not comprehend why a knight so skilled in the art of battle and warfare would be assigned to steward a child. Even more confusing to her was why Jaime had so eagerly volunteered before the King had even suggested it. What shocked Brienne the most, was how she began to feel in his presence. She almost forgot her animosity toward Jaime Lannister, the man who had broken her heart. She nearly began to feel as if it was right that they should be together. If she was honest with herself, it felt good to watch him, to be so close him.
It was late now, Jaime had left her quarters hours ago. Yet, still Brienne could not chase him from her thoughts. She had taken dinner in her quarters, fed and settled Galladon into his bassinet, and prepared herself for the hot bath she had ordered. All the while, Brienne did her best to relax, but to no avail. Now, she stood in her housecoat, staring into the fire. She did not realize that her fingers had mindlessly traveled to her throat and were caressing the edges of her collar bone as she focused on thoughts which were a thousand miles distant from where she stood. Brienne also, did not realize that the images in her brain had become memories, recollections of her time with Jaime at Winterfell. She had spent nearly a year chasing him from her mind, however, now they took control of her and she was powerless against them.
With a wanton sigh, Brienne slid her warm dressing gown from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Her fingers traced the paths that Jaime's had traveled along the curves of her body, pausing at those places upon which he has focused special attention. Absently, she cupped her breasts in her hands, and squeezed, softly at first. Her grasp gradually became firmer, more urgent, imagining his mouth upon her skin. Her back arched, and she pressed her legs together, enjoying the wetness which formed there at the thought of him.
Suddenly, her muscles needed the warmth of the bath that waited in the tub a few paces from her. Slowly, she approached the steaming ripples. They invited her, the way his arms had drawn her into their bed. She accepted eagerly, just as she had before. Brienne groaned lowly with release as her body slipped beneath the dark soft water. The heat engulfed her as their passion had. Her body rocked in time to the motion of the rolling waves as they broke over the surface of the body. It reminded her of the rhythm of his motion when he moved upon her. They had lost themselves in each other. There was no one else, no world deciding their fate, no duties to the needs of others. The only oaths they took were with wordless promises they made to each other.
Brienne gasped at the memory of all they had been, all they had shared. Her hands continued to work her skin, they way he had. She clenched the fingers of her right hand into a fist, imaging it Jaime's handless stump roaming over her body. When they were together, she had watched him, memorized everything about him. Now, she closed her eyes, picturing him with her. She again let her perceptions travel over the enticing angles of his body, and felt her need grow more intense with every inch. She saw his face as he had looked at her with so much force and passion that it made her want to cry. In those moments, she knew there was no one else in the world to him, but her. Gods, how they had loved each other.
She caught her breath and held it for a moment, as she had when he entered her so desperate and yearning. She relaxed her fingers and stretched them toward the path he had traveled. Brienne's breath came in shallow gasps as she found the nerves between her legs that he had worked to drive her to near madness. She brought up her other arm and clutched the edge of the washtub behind her head. Leaning her head back, she bit her lip against the loud moaning which threatened to emanate from her thoat. She shivered as her fingers slid deeper between her legs. Finding the place that had beckoned him in, Brienne glided two of her fingers smoothly into herself. She inhaled deeply, imagining it was Jaime. Even in a pair, her thin graceful fingers could not compare to the fullness of him, but her memory completes the spaces where any gaps remained.
Within moments, Brienne's soft gentle thrusts grew more forceful, her breath became pleasured pants. She sat up and opened her legs wider. Using the side of the tub for leverage against her feet, as she had the bed, Brienne rode her fingers the way she had Jaime's cock. She pictures him with her, saw his face before her. Truly she had been his focus, no one else. His eyes as he gazed upon her were almost otherworldly in their dark depths. It felt to her that he was there. Even if only in her imagination, for a short sweet while, again they shared their love. She was with him once more in all the promise they had known. She wanted it back like a drowning woman wanted air. At the thought of him she shuttered. She could not hold herself in check any longer. With all the fervor she had experienced when he had taken her to her heights, Brienne exploded beneath the sheltering water.
"Jaime!" She called into the darkness of the night, before collapsing against the side of the tub, sobbing.
As had become their habit, Jaime took his dinner that evening in Tyrion's chambers. He should have been the happiest man alive, having spent the entire day with the woman he loved and their child. However, he sat glumly, barely touching his meal. Brienne's words echoed in his mind, crashing against the sides of his skull like a hammer. 'You were never mine.' Brienne had charged. Not one moment of the physical pain he had known, not when they took his sword hand, nor when all the floors of the Red Keep had come crashing down upon him, had hurt him as deeply as the pain in her breathtaking eyes. What was worse was knowing that he had put every ounce of that doubt there.
Later, Jaime stood alone in his quarters staring into the fire. Tyrion had sent for a bath to be filled for him, at first however, the water promised no warm relief as he undressed and pondered the day spent with the ones he loved. His focus was upon the flames, but the only image he saw before him was Brienne's lovely face, grieved and saddened as it was while she regarded him as a stranger sitting in her parlor. His own actions were the reason she now questioned his devotion to her. Deep in her heart, she truly thought he loved another, that he had left her because she was not enough, was not his every breath, his only happiness. How could he ever hope to win her back?
The warmth that radiated from hearth before which he stood brought to his mind the memory of holding Brienne in his arms. Their time together at Winterfell had been the most glorious of his life. Jaime smiled at the giddy fullness his heart felt at being in love, truly in love, for the first time in his life. With Cersei it had been very different, so horribly different. He had always assumed he loved his own sister in that way because they had been twins, born together and meant to die together, and because she had told him it was so. She had demanded he love her, an obligation. One that had cost him everything.
Brienne had offered him all he had ever dreamed of, honor, respect, herself. She had given him such unfettered selfless love, and asked only for his heart in return. She did not realize it had already been hers for so long. They loved as if there were no tomorrow, and nothing outside of the ancient walls of the Northern fortress. He was happy to forget all his life had been before Brienne. He was ready, and more than willing to leave Cersei to whatever fate that Daenarys Targaryen, or any of her many enemies saw fit. That was until the day Queen Sansa told him of Cersei's victory over Daenarys's troops. Suddenly, the threat was clear and very real. There was more than a small chance that Cersei would be victorious in the war with the Targaryen queen. He knew that were Cersei to remain on the throne with no opposition, Brienne would not live long. Cersei had already sent Bronn to kill Tyrion and him. He knew his evil sister would find Brienne, and would slaughter her. Jaime would not let that happen, not when he could stop it. So he had left the only real love he ever knew crying alone in a freezing courtyard and went to save her life. It was a dead man that returned to Cersei. It was a sacrifice of love when he offered his life for Brienne's.
Somehow the Gods had seen fit to spare him. They had given him, a wretched disgraced wreck of a man, another chance to win his lady's heart. He would not foresake it this time. Jaime smiled, thinking of the day he had spent with Brienne and Galladon. He could still feel the weight of his tiny son lying in his arms. He had never imagined such joy could possibly exist, until he stared into the face of the babe made from the love he and Brienne had shared.
The flames of the fire into which Jaime stared burned like his soul for Brienne. His thoughts traveled back to the heat of Brienne's chamber at Winterfell. His mind's eye watched her again, naked before him, timid and unsure. He smiled at how they needed so few words between them. They both had known. That was but the first time, there were many that followed. Brienne grew steadily more confident, more willing to explore his yearning body, much less inhibited. He breathed deep a covetous sigh, picturing her glorious frame. It was the secret she hid beneath her armor. The one only he, and he alone knew. Jaime closed his eyes and moved his hand over the image of her curves, as he had done while he recovered in his tiny cell. It was as if she were there with him. He imagined all the things he wanted to do to her, and all those he wanted her to do to him.
Jaime moaned loudly, his cock growing hard between his legs as thoughts of Brienne possessed his mind. He longed to be inside her, to bury himself deep within the woman he loved and make her scream his name. He craved the feel of her soft gentle skin upon his, the taste of her sweet lips intoxicating him more than any wine. He was starving, and she was the only nourishment that could sustain him. He thought of the deep dark nights that he had bed her at Winterfell. Never, had he wished them to end. How he needed her sublime form pressed against him, his body surrounding hers. He caught his breath, thinking of the soft velvet between her legs in which he had lost himself. He wanted the thrilling wetness of her longing to immerse him.
Jaime barely noticed his legs moving as he climbed into the steaming water of the washtub infront of the hearth, still dreaming of Brienne. He submerged his now throbbing erection beneath the dark water, but found no soothing comfort. It was Brienne's body he needed to assuage his pleasured pain. He leaned back against the side of the tub, recalling how he kissed every long lean inch of her. He licked his lips at the memory of the taste, salted honey.
If he could not be with her, his memory would need to suffice. Jaime exhaled slowly, bringing his own hand around his cock and lost himself in the fantasy that it was Brienne's body that sheathed him. Soft and slow, he began, the way he had eased into her. Gently he found the rhythm of his rocking, just the way she liked. His muscles tensed trying to recreate the sensation of her fingers grasping hard to his back. The water was warm, like Brienne. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the views of her that floated in his darkened vision. He had memorized them, committed every part of her to his brain. It had been his comforted throughout the long moons he had lived without her. Reflexively, he grasped himself tighter, worked the sensitive skin along his shaft harder, hearing the excited echoes of Brienne's passion. Alone, in the darkness he answered the dream of her. Jaime would have stayed there with her memory forever, but he felt the needful pressure building within him. Gods, he longed to release himself within her. He did not notice the water of the bath splashing upon the floor with the forceful motion of his mounting orgasm which begged him for relief. He slammed his tight fist against himself. His breath became sputtering gasps, and he shuttered as he exploded into the bath water, desperately trying to make himself believe it was her that he filled.
"Brienne!" Jaime cried into the night. There was no way to truly satisfy himself without her. Spent, craving the feel of the woman he adored in his arms, he collapsed against the side of tub and wept.
For a man who had, for the second night in a row, enjoyed almost no sleep, Jaime's stride was brisk and his smile bright as he reached the Lord Commander's chamber the next morning. Although fatigue had played upon the boundaries of his consciousness throughout the long night, his mind would not allow him to rest. His emotions carried him upon a winding, soaring, and often spiraling path as he lay awake recounting the glorious day he had spent with Brienne and their son. He felt as though his heart would burst with joy remembering Galladon in his arms, and the proximity Brienne had accepted. The feeling of his own child lying against him was sweeter than any victory he had ever known. Jaime swore he would never allow any distance to keep him from his child. He prayed the chasm between himself and Brienne would soon be healed.
During the endless dark hours, after he had imagined them together, Brienne's words echoed painfully in his ears. 'You were never mine.' The defeated tone in which she spoke tore his heart apart. That was what she thought, that he had not loved her with every part of himself, body and soul. He supposed he had accomplished what he had intended, but the bitter reality of it now meant she may never again be his. He relieved that moonlit night in the courtyard, her hands holding his face, her tear-filled eyes pleading, his fingers upon her wrist giving the only comfort to her breaking heart that he could afford. He had to ensure that she would not follow him into the dragonfire. Terror seized him when he realized that if Brienne had pursued him, Galladon would have perished as well, undiscovered. The blessing of their spared lives was the only consolation he found in the endless cruel darkness. He knew what it was to be a broken man, and he knew that he would never be whole without her. So, he rose early and went to be as near to them as Brienne would allow.
He found her suited, and ready, and prepared for her duties. Her golden Kingsguard armor shone ethereally in the bright morning sun that filtered into the billet through the open windows. Even through her steel, Brienne nestled Galladon as softly to her as if he rested next to her bare skin. Their babe sweetly cooed and greeted him as if he had always been with them. Brienne stood tall and proud, and backed away from the doorway so Jaime could enter.
He breathed deep the fresh fragrant air that blew into the apartments on the breeze. It cooled the heat in his soul. Or more likely, it was her that calmed him. She was a vision. In that moment he was certain she was goddess, sent to him from the Heavens. He hoped it was to be his salvation, and not to torment his eternal soul with a treasure he could never possess. Struck speechless, all he could do was stare at her perfection.
She seemed in no mood for pleasantries, as she began to list her itinerary for the day. Jaime wondered if her guarded demeanor was evidence that she had endured as fitful a night as he had. "It is imperative that you know where I will be at all times." Brienne informed him. "If he should need me." She deposited their bright-eyed child in Jaime's arms, and went to retrieve Oathkeeper from above the hearth. Galladon greeted his father with a sweet snuffle, and a playful look from the same deep blue eyes his mother possessed.
"You will need to bring him to me at midday, so I can feed him." Brienne continued, securing Oathkeeper around her waist and stepping toward him. "I shall be in the Round Room by then." She instructed. Jaime nodded and followed her to the door, as she quickly reviewed what she had taught him about caring for their son the previous day.
"The extra napkins are on my bedside table." Brienne told him, breathlessly. "You do remember the proper temperature for his bath, don't you?" She asked worriedly. Jaime nodded trying to calm her nerves. "Oh, and I think he's beginning to develop a little rash on his bum." Her look turned nervous. "There is a small crock of ointment next to the nappies." She had nearly worked herself into a frenzy by the time they reached the door. Jaime understood that she was nervous about leaving Galladon with him for the first time. In some small way, he could not blame her.
Jaime gave her an easy smile. "We will be fine, Brienne." He assured her. "Please do not worry." He said, asking her to trust him.
The history she shared with Jaime might have had Brienne growing even more nervous at the thought of leaving her babe with him. For some reason, deep within her heart, there was no one else she would have depended upon more than him for the safety and well being of their child. She took a deep breath, and gave him the tiny whisper of a bashful smile. "Very well." She agreed to believe in him.
Before leaving, Brienne turned and nearly bumped in Jaime, he was standing so close to her. Her face showed only the slightest look of annoyance. Her attentions were already focused upon her babe. She looked almost regretfully down at him, and traced her fingers delicately across the boy's head. It was as if Jaime were not even there as Brienne bent to place a kiss at her child's temple. "Mama will see you then, my love." She whispered to him.
Jaime was enthralled by Brienne's demonstration of motherly affection. He had never seen anyone so openly declare their adoration for a child, not even their own. He had certainly never witnessed Cersei be as thoughtful or loving with any of her children. He understood that leaving Galladon each day, as she was forced to do, must have ripped Brienne's heart to shreds, and he hated himself for it.
Quickly, Brienne turned and retreated from the room, closing the door securely behind her. Jaime wondered if there were more emotions upon leaving, which she was afraid he might witness. Left alone with his son, Jaime smiled down at the boy. "Well, young man." He beamed proudly as he spoke to Galladon. "What should we do first?" He asked, almost expecting a suggestion from the infant.
"What was that?" He listened closer, pretending to hear Galladon's voice. "That's a brilliant idea, My Boy." Jaime congratulated the wide eyed babe. "We should go watch your mother in the yard." He agreed.
Jaime grabbed an extra quilt from the cradle basket that still set on the floor beside Brienne's chair, and tucked it around Galladon before strolling out onto the balcony. The terrace overlooked the courtyard of the Red Keep and provide an unobstructed view of the Kingsguard training ground below. Jaime reached the rail just as Brienne was striding commandingly from the White Sword Tower to review her guardsmen. The power of her made him gasp. She was the grandest sight he had ever beheld. Not even he had held such a presence of command, when he had been Lord Commander. Her voice shouting orders sounded like a song as it rose to his ears. He imagined the way her muscles flexed under her armor as she drew her sword and sparred with the others, the way they tightened under him when they had laid together. She was phenomenal, and Jaime could have easily stood all day, captivated by her.
It was Galldon's whimper that took his focus from the woman he loved. Jaime looked down upon his son's reddening little face, twisted somewhere between anger and distress. Instantly concerned, he strode quickly back into Brienne's bed chamber. Jaime reached the bedside and had just laid the babe softly down upon the mattress when Galladon began to wail. Trying his best to fend off the worry that was building within him, Jaime began to run through all the possible reasons for the boy's distress. He envisioned all that Brienne had told him the day before. He was certain that hunger had not caused the child's tears. Surely Brienne had fed him before she left for the day. His face brightened in understanding as he thought of the next logical reason a babe would cry.
"Does your napkin need changing, My Son?" Jaime asked Galladon, as if an answer was certain to follow. The babe looked up pleadingly at his father, and continued to fret.
Jaime nodded reassuringly and began to remove the soft one-piece sleeping outfit Galladon wore. He carefully removed the sharp metal pin and set it aside as Brienne had instructed, and pulled down the fabric, bracing his nose for what might be waiting. To his surprise, Jaime found that Galladon had not yet soiled his undergarment. Shrugging off his quizzical look, he rewrapped the babe's bottom and began to pull the sleeping suit back into place. "Well." Jaime regarded Galladon with a slightly indignant grin. "Perhaps your mother pinned it to tightly." He offered, enjoying the idea that he had been able to soothe their child more completely than Brienne, although he knew his skills were no match for hers in that area.
Father and son both satisfied, at least for the moment, Jaime lifted Galladon into his arms, and sat with him atop the bedcovers. At any other time, his body would have been reveling to be resting upon the same mattress where Brienne found her slumber. However, his mind was far too occupied to entertain those thoughts as he would have wished.
"So we are left with the dilemma of what to tend first." He spoke earnestly to the babe. "Suggestions?" He asked politely. Galladon smiled and sighed softly.
After a moment, Jaime's eyes fell upon the basket of dirtied clothing in the corner. Yes, that was how Brienne had spent the previous morning. He puffed himself proudly with his son in his arms. "Let us help Mama, shall we?" He laughed.
Jaime went about laundering Galladon's garments and linens in the tub on the balcony as Brienne had demonstrated the previous day. Having realized that neither his own cradle nor the handled hamper in which he napped were acceptable to the boy, Jaime found that it was best to prop the babe on a pile of cushions at his side. It was the only place the boy did not scream at the top of his lungs, but simply gurgled a soft cranky cry as Jaime worked.
Most of the morning passed with Jaime trying to appease Galladon's fitful boughts of crying. The clothing had been cleaned. The linens on the babe's bassinet changed, and the apartments tidied. Several full napkins were changed, through which Galladon fussed not once. Jaime had held the child tight as he made several trips back and forth with buckets from the courtyard well. A warm bath settled Galladon, but not for long. Once laid again in his basket cradle to nap, his plaintiff bawling began again. Jaime's anxious worry also grew more frantic as the morning flew by. He became terrified that something was horribly wrong with his son.
Finally, unable to bear anymore of Galladon's distress, Jaime hoisted the babe into his arms, sighed in relief that the child grew quiet, and went searching for a messenger. He almost feared encountering Brienne, and what he might answer if she asked for the details of his first morning caring for her helpless babe. Fortunately, Jaime found his luck holding when a young page appeared on the stairs.
"You there." Jaime beckoned.
The boy nearly choked on his next breath as he stopped in his tracks and stared at the infamous knight. It was clear he was shocked at having come face to face with the Kingslayer. His wide eyes darted from astonished, to terrified, as he stared at the ragged looking man with a babe in the grasp of his only hand.
"Fetch Lord Tyrion to the Lord Commander's chamber at once." Jaime ordered, trying to sound more authoritative than he felt. The boy stammered for a moment, unable to move.
"Quickly!" Jaime urged. The young man was brought back to himself by the Kingslayer's tone. He bolted back down the stairway and was running across the courtyard toward the Tower of the Hand before Jaime reached the door of Brienne's quarters upon his return.
Jaime spent the next endless moments either pacing with Galladon held snuggly to him, or desperately trying to stop the babe's sobbing while hovering above his tiny cradle. The walls of Brienne's apartments seemed to close in on him. He was frantic. Worry consumed him. He feared whatever it was that was distressing his child. Worse, Jaime despaired that he may have done something to cause the affliction that had taken hold of Galladon. How had Brienne made this seem so easy?
At last a familiarly weighted tapping sounded upon the door. Jaime left Galladon secure in the little basket bed, and hurried to the door as the babe cried. He opened the door to his son's pitiful wailing, and found Tyrion's confused and concerned frown peering up at him.
"What has happened?" Tyrion questioned judgementally. Surely the crying sounds coming from over his brother's shoulder were not a sign of a calm and peaceful morning.
"What do you mean? Nothing has happened." Jaime shot back, defensively.
"Why is the boy crying?" Tyrion continued. "What did you do?" He accused.
Jaime's brow arched to the heavens. "I haven't done anything." Jaime answered, annoyed at the accusation that he may have harmed his own son, but fearing that was exactly the situation. He ushered Tyrion inside the rooms, and made haste back to the now screaming babe.
Both father and uncle stood staring down at Galladon, neither certain what to do. "How long has he been like this?" Tyrion asked, pained by the babe's sorrowful cries.
"He's been crying nearly all morning." Jaime said worriedly.
"Perhaps we should fetch Brienne." Tyrion suggested.
"No!" Jaime stammered urgently. "She'll think me unfit to care for our son." His distressed tone rose an octave.
"But if the child needs care..." Tyrion began.
"I've checked him from head to toe, he is uninjured." Jaime said, trying to reassure himself.
Tyrion reached down and felt Galladon's forehead with the back of this fingers. "He does not appear to be feverish." He reported. Jaime concurred, after checking himself.
"What is wrong with him, then?" The babe's father wondered aloud, nearly overwrought with anxiety.
"Perhaps we could fetch Lady Tarly." Tyrion suggested. "She is newly arrived in Kings Landing with her own young ones to join her husband, the Grand Maester." He hoped Jaime would a least allow young Gilly to tend to the child.
To his disappointment, Jaime rejected that idea as well. "No. She and Brienne are friends." He shook his head. "Surely, Lady Tarly will inform her of my woeful inadequacy." He hung his head and studied his child, realizing that he would have to seek help if the boy's apparent suffering continued.
At the sound of Jaime's concerned voice, Galladon began to pump his legs and wave his arms, his hands clutching fists full of empty air, trying to reach the man's comforting embrace. Unable to bear his babe's despair, Jaime lifted him carefully from the down filled tick on which he lay, and cradled him soothingly in his arms. Instantly, Galladon settled. His interrupted screach became a thankful soft coo.
Tyrion raised one brow toward the ceiling. "Jaime." He said calmly. "Put the child down." He ordered.
"What? Why?" Jaime asked bewildered. "He has calmed." Jaime cast a perplexed glare upon his brother.
Tyrion silenced Jaime's protest with a raised hand. "Humor me." He nodded. "Just do it."
Jaime complied and set Galladon down once more in the basket. Almost before he removed his hand from beneath the babe, Galladon's whimpering began a new. Jaime looked questioningly at Tyrion. Tyrion lowered his chin, studying the boy's reaction. He raised his hand in signal. "Again." He insisted.
Once more, Jaime picked up his child. Galladon let out a long contented sigh, snuggling into the feeling of his father's touch. As he had the time before, the babe calmed, and smile up into Jaime's wistful eyes. Tyrion motioned for another attempt. A repeated squalling and soothing was again the result. Jaime grew quickly frustrated with Tyrion's experiment.
"There must be something hurting him when he is laid down." Jaime asserted,
Tyrion regarded Jaime with a droll smirk. "Brother." He sighed. "You now have one day more experience caring for babes than I do, and even I realIze the cause of Galladon's fits." He declared, staring dryly at Jaime.
Jaime's forehead furrowed in anticipation. "Well?" He pressed earnestly, shrugging his shoulders anxiously.
"I do not believe it is anything physical that troubles your son." Tyrion imparted as Jaime nestled a now quiet Galladon close to his chest. "Perhaps it is the comfort of a parent's arms he wishes." Tyrion smiled.
Jaime looked upon the boy with compassion. "He has known me, but a day." He said softly. "Surely it is his mother's arms for which he cries." A warm sweet smile found Jaime's eyes as he thought of Brienne with their babe.
Tyrion shook his head. "His mother is Lord Commander." He reminded. "She held the duties of a sworn sword before that." His face was serious but compassionate. "Since he was newly born, this child had been accustomed to spending his days without her." Tyrion nodded sadly as he regarded his nephew.
Jaime found the thought almost too terrible to contemplate. How painful it must have been for Brienne to be forced to part from her babe each day, even for the duties in which she found so much honor. Surely there had been a time when Galladon had cried for her as fervently and mournfully as he did now. Again, Jaime's heart seized with the regret that he should have been there. He should have been the one to see to the responsibilities of knighthood, so Brienne could have suffered no other concerns than caring for their infant. It was something else for his shame to feed upon.
Tyrion's words appeared to ring true. Galladon lay upon Jaime's shoulder, calm, and relaxed, happily regarding his father and uncle as they talked. Jaime chuckled thinking that his son was taking his rightful place as one of the Lannister boys.
"You see." Tyrion smiled proudly at Jaime and Galladon. "It is his father's arms the boy wishes." He asserted.
Brienne sat pensively at the weirwood table in the Round Room of the White Sword Tower. She had already spent most of the morning training the Guard, and verifying the measures she had instituted to ensure the security of the Keep. While her time had been busy, her mind was preoccupied with other matters. Issues closer to her own heart were demanding the priority of their thoughts. She was not so much worried, but curious as to how Jaime was getting on caring for Galladon. Brienne wished she had a moment to check on them, but as usual, her time was far from her own. It was midday, and she was expecting them soon. She hoped Jaime would be as prompt in sheparding their child to her as he had been at reaching her chambers that morning. She was feeling that painful need to feed Galladon in her own body, and was certain the babe must be growing temperamental in his hunger. She was missing him bitterly and longing to hold him.
Just as she dipped a long feather quill into the inkwell that always sat upon the table, and set completing the moon's duty roster, Brienne was interrupted by a soft knocking upon her closed door. Eagerly she answered the summons. "Enter." She called, almost happily.
It was like rays of sunshine finding her shadowed eyes, when at last Brienne saw the precious face of her babe, safe and happy in Jaime's arms. She stood hastily and rushed to them. Jaime joyfully relinquished his small charge to her. Brienne cradled her son close, unable to dimish her smile.
"There's my little man." Brienne gushed. Jaime counted himself the luckiest man in the world to be audience to Brienne's unguarded adoration of their child. He could have watched them forever.
After a moment of unabashed motherhood, Brienne recovered her knightly solemnity. "It appears he is well." She affirmed, a slight nod of her head was to be Jaime's only accolade. He would gladly accept whatever she would give.
Jaime cleared his throat nervously, and then bounced on his heals, smiling. "We have enjoyed a splendid morning." He acknowledged, leaving out the details of Galladon's marathon squalling session. He noted that Brienne seemed relieved.
Upon feeling his mother's touch, Galladon began to fuss for his midday meal. Brienne could wait no longer to satisfy her child's need. Jaime noticed the slight blush that colored her cheeks, and sought to end her discomfort. "Shall I return later?" He asked, already eyeing the door.
Brienne saw no reason he should leave. She had fed Gallon beneath blanket cover in his presence only the previous day. She shook her head. "No." She answered. "You may stay." She granted. "But, over there." Her tone was direct, but more pleading than her words as she pointed to the far side of the weirwood table.
"Of course." Jaime agreed, moving to stand where she had bid.
Brienne took a seat beside the hearth to warm her child as he fed. She sat with her back to Jaime, deftly removing her armor while balancing her babe upon her lap. Her serene sigh of fulfillment was like music to Jaime's ears, as she rested Galladon to her breast and the babe began to nurse.
Jaime felt somewhat forgotten and out of place, standing waiting for Brienne to finish. He did not dare make a sound for fear of disturbing the sweet scene before him. His eyes scanned the room, thinking of how much more he was enjoying his current position than when he had held command here. It was then, his eyes fell upon the Book of Brothers, resting only a few paces from him. He saw little reason in his actions as he quietly strode to it, and fingered it's hard cover. The leather was still surprisingly well kept despite all the book had been through. It seemed almost as if the volume were destined to outlive the passing of time itself. Jaime shook his head, thinking of the pathetically sparse and embarrassingly small passage for which he would be remembered. He knew not why he even still cared as he opened the book and leafed through the pages to find his own.
Jaime's breath caught in his throat when he saw the now filled pages which described his deeds as a knight of the realm. Staring at the parchment in awe, he began to decode the writing, dreading what was now written there. Part of him expecting it to be even worse than what had originally been left as his memorial. He was certain it was Brienne who had finished his entry. It was her duty as Lord Commander. She had every right to have penned all the miserable truth. Regretfully, slowly, he read his own story. Never, his strength, it took some time for the words to form coherently in his brain. A moment passed before he truly understood their meaning. As he read he did not see Brienne turn her head to peer earnestly at him over her shoulder.
It was all there, the Whispering Wood, his oath to Lady Catelyn, Riverrun. Everything he had done, was now preserved for the ages. His deeds were described with such praise and integrity that tears came to his eyes. It had been written with love. Her words made his exploits seem legendary. He looked up at Brienne, shocked by the gift she had given him. She had already focused her attentions back upon their child. She did not need to see him to know what he was doing. Jaime stared at the woman he had hurt so shamefully, whom he loved so completely. She had given him honor. As he read her final line he was reminded how much he did not deserve it. 'Died protecting his Queen.' Brienne had written. Her final thoughts on his life. The words hit Jaime like the bricks that had almost killed him. He shook his head.
'No. No.' He thought. 'I did not protect her.' Jaime could barely stomach the thought of Cersei now. 'I kept you safe.' He fought himself not to make his declaration then and there. Would she even listen? This was the memory that plagued her mind. This was why Brienne could barely speak to him. Jaime had never explained the painful reason why he had left her behind. She would not let him speak of that night. He had set out to ensure she would not follow him, and he had achieved his goal ominously well. They now both lived with the consequences of his choice. His eyes traveled painfully to watch her, so calm and serene with their child beside the hearth. Jaime wanted to prostrate himself at Brienne's feet, and explain everything to her, all that she had not allowed him yet to say. 'You are my Queen!' His heart screamed in his chest. Instead, all he could do was stand there, mourning the choices he had made.
Jaime could not move, even as Brienne finished feeding Galladon and replaced her armor. He could not take his eyes from the strokes she had penned as she stood and returned to the table, their child held snuggly in her arms. She knew he had read it. They both stood speechless for a moment, unable to look at each other.
"You finished it." Jaime whispered, unsure if he should be grateful or ashamed.
Brienne stared ahead of her. "I did not do it for you." She confessed, only partially truthful. Jaime nodded, understanding what she meant, and rested a glance upon his sleeping son.
Brienne followed Jaime's eyes to Galladon's peaceful face. "He may someday need a father of whom he can be proud." She wanted to cringe the moment the words left her lips. She had not meant them to sound so bitter, so,acrid. It seemed no matter, how hard she tried, even being cordial to her child's father was still a chore. Jaime lowered his head, he could not blame her for the emotions that swirled within her. He quietly reached to take Galladon into his grasp. Brienne easily gave up her hold upon the slumbering child to his father. Still reeling in his own shame, Jaime gave Brienne a compassionate look and turned to leave.
At once Brienne could not bear the anguish upon the face of the man she loved, but to whom she could not tell her truth. "Jaime, wait." She stopped him just as he reached the door. He pivoted hopefully to face her. Brienne's heart wanted to break at the look of promise with which he regarded her. Jaime standing there, holding their babe was the most beautiful sight she had ever beheld. It took her breath away. She longed to declare herself to him, to tell him that she still loved him. However, she could not bring herself to admit the truth to him.
Brienne's regret showed upon her face as she looked at Jaime. "That was harsh." She apologized. "I did not mean for my words to be so severe." She sighed, eyeing the floor. "It is true my reasons for completing your entry was to give my son an inheritance of honor." She admitted. "But, that honor is rightfully yours." She raised her eyes to his. "The world needed to remember you as the hero you are." She told him sincerely. They could not tear their eyes from each other for a long moment, each fighting all they needed to say.
It was Jaime who broke from their longing stare. At Galladon's movement in his arms, he gave a shallow sigh, and smiled. His grateful expression eased Brienne's guilt, but only a little. "Thank you." Jaime said to her, softly, holding her gaze in his. Just as in the moment he had gifted her with Oathkeeper, the true sentiment his words conveyed, and that which Brienne's heart comprehended was, 'I Love You.'