It seemed all of Tarth was abuzz with activity, it was now only days until the marriage of the daughter of Evenfall to the Lion of Lannister was to be celebrated. The numerous servants who attended the family of the Evenstar scurried about seeing to not only his orders, but also those of the groom's brother, and several of the couple's fellow small council members. Lord Selwyn saw personally to every detail, while Lord Tyrion eagerly added his opinions and preferences to the arrangements. Even the Sers Bronn and Davos, as well as Grand Maester Tarly engaged in lively debates as to the specifics of the nuptials.
Lost in their own world, and absorbed with more immediate concerns, the bride and groom took the chaos in stride. They found amusement in the anxious pandemonium that surrounded them, and felt themselves blessed by the caring of their families and friends. As Brienne's sickness worsened, Jaime spent the time caring attentively for her, despite her objections that there was no need.
"It is nothing extraordinary." Brienne smiled thoughtfully at Jaime from her seat on their thick quilted mattress where he insisted she spend most of the day. He held her hand gently and attempted to coerce her to agree to take a light bowl of broth. Brienne grimaced and refused it. "I suffer no greater ailment than when Galladon grew within me." Brienne assured him. Her loving gaze traveling to the cradle beside the bed where their first son sat, entertaining himself with one of the many toys his grandfather and uncle had presented him. "My predicament is no different than any other woman who carries a child." She assured her worried betrothed.
"Of course it is different." Jaime exclaimed, his eyes wide and astonished as he stared at her. "None of them carry my child." He asserted. "None of them are the one I adore." Jaime nuzzled Brienne's cheek and smoothed back her hair.
Brienne lowered her eyes with an understanding sigh. "Surely you have better things to do than care for me all day." She grinned sweetly.
"That is all I wish to do." He brought her fingers to his lips.
"I am sure my father and your brother could use your assistance with all of the last miute details." She chuckled, imagining those scurrying about the floors below them.
Jaime smiled knowingly at her in return. "Lord Selwyn, and Tyrion have everything well in hand." He assured her. "There is little for me to do." He nodded. "You will walk down the aisle to me, amidst a flourish of ceremony." He laughed.
Brienne's brow furrowed a bit, and her cheeks reddened with the anticipation of being the bride she never imagined she would become. "With all eyes upon me." Brienne studied her fidgeting hands nervously.
Jaime settled closer to her and held her hand tighter. "If it were simply my choice, I would take you before the Septon and marry you this hour." He declared. "In my heart we have been man and wife since those days we trudged through the Riverlands to Kings Landing together." His eyes sparkled with the memory. "However, you My Dear, deserve a lavish wedding." He brought his forehead to hers, at the loving regard in which she beheld him. "And I…" He added. "Deserve to finally show off my beautiful bride." He told her, pride beaming upon his face.
"Well then," Brienne simpered in response. "Far be it from me to disappoint the great Jaime Lannister." She laughed, leaning into him.
"Now, that is more like it." He jested in amusement, accepting her surrender, before laying a passionate kiss upon her lips.
Suddenly, Brienne felt her most recent wave of nausea beginning to lift. She glanced beside her to ensure that Galladon was otherwise occupied. Satisfied that she and Jaime did not hold the center of their child's attention, Brienne leaned back onto the pillows invitingly and sent a hearty wanting look in Jaime's direction. He stretched himself atop her luscious form, careful not to rest his full weight upon her belly, and sank into the sheets beside her. Brienne coyly spread open her legs with a lustful sigh, ready to welcome him to her. Jaime understood the notions her body expressed, and was more than willing to accommodate Brienne's desires. Their kiss deepened, as their arousal grew. He slid his probing fingers around her waist, searching for the ties of her dressing gown. She arched her back in response, and began to work the buckles of his gambeson, anticipating the feel of his skin next to hers.
Before either made any progress in disrobing the other, a sturdy knocking sounded upon the door to their chamber. Jaime hung his head against Brienne's neck and gave a frustrated growl. He held a finger to his lips and bid silent the woman with whom he had hoped to pass the afternoon making love. "If we are very quiet, perhaps whoever it is will go away." Jaime protested.
Brienne stroked her fingers through his hair comfortingly. "We should see who it is." She offered. "There is so much being done for us." She said gratefully. "It would be rude not to help if we can." She held him in the blue depths of her gaze, and his heart melted. He could deny her nothing.
Dejectedly, Jaime slipped from his place atop Brienne, and fastened the metal clasps she had worked loose moments before. She rose and returned the sash of her robe to a delicate bow. Lifting Galladon from his cradle, as Jaime slunk to the door, she turned to greet their caller. With a last mournful peak up and down her body, Jaime turned the latch to open the door, and tried not the think of all the things he wanted to do to Brienne.
His efforts were quickly aided by the figure of her father standing in the passageway. As if her were an awkward boy caught in a tryst , Jaime snapped to attention. The Evenstar, examined the man who shared his daughter's quarters with a faint judgmental upturn of an eyebrow, but gave no indication that he may have known the nature of what was occurring within the room before his arrival.
"Jaime, My Boy." Lord Selwyn greeted Brienne's betrothed in the way that had become customary to him. "I hope I am not interrupting anything." He smirked dryly. Jaime smoothed his hair with his fingers, a little too innocently, and grinned sheepishly as he looked away. Across the room Brienne tried unsuccessfully to hide her blush and bit her lip, hiding her face against Galladon's cheek.
Selwyn Tarth eyed the pair with amused suspicion, but let the matter pass. "Might I request a moment with my daughter?" He had already begun to address Jaime as Brienne's lord husband.
It was then that Jaime noticed the velvet parcel held in The Evenstar's grasp. He wondered for a moment what priceless treasure would be presented to his bride. The thought of Brienne being plied gifts gave him immense joy. She deserved all of them, and so much more. He saw how both father and daughter brightened when in each other's company. It did Jaime's heart good to know that Brienne had been raised with such unrestrained affection. It was a bond he had not enjoyed with his own father. He gave Brienne and Selwyn a warm smile and stepped toward the door. "I would not trust her care to anyone else, My Lord." Jaime replied.
Lord Selwyn returned Jaime's pleasantries with a cheerful grin. "I shall see to it that she is returned to you in perfect health." He assured Brienne's nervous intended.
A few paces away Brienne rolled her eyes. "The both of you act as though I am made of glass." She accused, while caressing the tiny ripple of life which stirred in her abdomen. "I will have you know that even with Galladon on my hip, and this babe in my belly, I could still take down a wight or two." She boasted, eyeing Oathkeeper hanging from the bedpost.
Jaime regarded Brienne with proud admiration, dazzled by her strength and courage. "Then it is fortunate for our children that you do not need to." He teased.
Selwyn chuckled and cupped Jaime's shoulder, joining the jest. While his expression relaxed with humor, the esteem in which he held his daughter was clear. "I have no doubt that is true, My Dear." He tried to distract her defensive indignation. "I was hoping, however, that a conversation with your devoted father might suffice for now." He stated, hopefully.
A spirited demonstration of her skill averted, Brienne dissolved in laughter. "I would welcome your company, Father." She smiled. "Do you mind, My Love?" She inquired of Jaime sweetly.
He returned her loving gaze joyfully. "Not at all, Dearest." Jaime affirmed. "I should go and see what my brother is about." He smirked with feigned dread. "No doubt by now he has arranged live lions to guard the ceremony." Jaime snickered, as he backed through doorway. With a nod to Brienne and Lord Selwyn as the door closed, he left them to their visit.
With a pleased sigh The Evenstar crossed the room, laying the parcel he held on the bed, and took Brienne's hand in his. He squeezed her fingers reassuringly, as he placed a fatherly kiss upon her cheek. His affections then turned to Galladon, who greeted his grandfather with a happy gurgle. The old man lifted the babe from Brienne's arms and cradled him in an exuberant embrace, his countenance shining like the rays of sun that warmed his island.
"How are you today, My Dear?" Selwyn asked Brienne, concerned.
Brienne lowered her eyes, and rubbed her palm over her nauseated stomach. "The sickness comes and goes." She tried to ease her father's worry. "I shall be fine. It will not last forever." Brienne gave Lord Selwyn a brave smile.
Selwyn nodded. "Will you feel up to walking down the aisle to your groom in a few days?" He asked, a warm compassionate look settling over his features.
Brienne met his worry with resolve. "Nothing will keep me from marrying the man I love." She proclaimed.
Selwyn reached again for her grasp, and held her hand even tighter. "That is exactly what I thought." He confessed. "I did not raise you to be anything less than a fighter." He recalled, choking down the lump which formed in his throat. Brienne wrapped her arms around his shoulder, and clung to him, enjoying the security which had always inspired her. For the first time she realized that he felt thinner than once he had. Though The Evenstar still stood tall and unyielding, a frailty had found his bones, one she never thought she would witness. She wondered for a moment that it may not be long before she assumed his title. Brienne quickly shoved the thought to the back of her mind, unwillingly to believe her father anything but immortal.
After a moment Selwyn pulled from her with a sniff, not wishing his daughter to see the tears in his eyes. His mind went immediately to the gift he had brought her. "Well, I expect the seamstresses have been working day and night readying your gown." He changed the subject.
Brienne shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed. "Well, I had set the metal smiths on repairing and oiling my armor." She informed him. "I thought to wear that, as it is still my official attire." Brienne said, proudly, but noticed how her father's brow creased with disapproval. "However." She continued, again running her hands over the faint bulge that her waistline had become. "It seems I am beginning to have some difficulty fitting into it." She blushed. "Instead, I have asked the artisans to construct a new leather gambeson for me to wear, and my hand maids are letting out my finest skirt to accommodate my…form." She smiled.
Lord Selwyn lowered his chin in understanding, and drew in a long considerate breath. "Well then, in that case, might I suggest something a little more appropriate for such an occasion?" He hoped, turning to retrieve the velvet package he had brought with his free hand. Brienne studied him quizzically.
"What is it?" She asked softly, her gaze floating over the fine velvet which held a secret beneath it's sapphire blue coloring.
"Open it." Lord Selwyn encouraged.
Holding her breath in anticipation and surprise, Brienne began to loosen the satin ribbon that held the bundle closed. When it had been removed, the length of fabric was handed to Galladon to play with, who immediately began to chew upon it. Selwyn chuckled at the boy, but kept his attention on his daughter. As Brienne pulled away the soft velvet of the wrapping, even more yards of material were revealed beneath, these of the smoothest blue silk. The hue seemed dipped from the sapphire waters of Tarth itself, and was rivaled in beauty only by Brienne's own deep blue eyes. Slowly, her hands trembling, her father watching hopefully, Brienne unfolded the layers until a magnificent gown fell open before her. She held the shoulders of the dress carefully in her fingers, and raised it so the hem would not touch the floor. She gasped at the beauty of her father's gift, and stood speechless.
"It was your mother's wedding gown." Lord Selwyn told Brienne, his voicing failing him, his eyes filling with tears. "It has been stored away since that day." He stuttered. "I ordered it cleaned. Another ruffle of dyed lace was added to the length, and the waist altered to be a bit to be more comfortable for you." He smiled self-consciously, as if he might inadvertently offend Brienne. She made no sign of such, so he continued.
"It would mean so much to me if you would wear it when you wed." He told her, his expression loving and hopeful.
Before she could answer, The Evenstar seemed to lose himself in a memory, as if for a moment he once again stood watching Brienne's mother as she approached for their own vows. "She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, your Mother." He said, as he dragged himself back to the present. Brienne drew closer to comfort him, the lovely silken gown clutched to her heart. Lord Selwyn brought his eyes to meet hers. "You have never believed me, but are the very image of her." He regarded his daughter reverently. "I can only imagine how Ser Jaime's breath will fail him at the sight of you." Selwyn Tarth envisioned.
"Oh, Father." Brienne sighed, her own eyes brimming with moisture to match his. "It would be my honor to wear my mother's gown on my wedding day." She declared. Brienne wrapped her father in her arms, Galladon between them. Together they stood, father and daughter enjoying a loving embracing, imagining the future of House Tarth and the happy years that were promised to Brienne and Jaime.
"And how is your bride today?" Tyrion questioned as Jaime strode up to him in Evenfall's Great Hall. The younger Lannister brother had been busy finalizing the agenda for his brother's upcoming wedding, and was thoroughly enjoying his role as coordinator.
"The sickness is all that ails her." Jaime answered, his thoughts preoccupied with Brienne's condition. "I suppose that is to be expected at this time." Jaime tried to alleviate his own concern.
Tyrion nodded. "But it worries you, nonetheless." He replied compassionately.
"Of course it worries me." Jaime confessed. "I find no rest when Brienne is unwell" He admitted. "It ties my own stomach in knots." Jaime shook his head distantly.
Tyrion's expression grew thoughtful. "Because you love her." He asserted, and saw the furrows of his brother's brow soften at the thought. "It is difficult to see those we love suffer." He said. "Especially when we are so helpless to ease their distress." He concurred.
At Tyrion's words, Jaime's thoughts traveled back to the tiny chamber in which he all but languished recovering in secret from the injuries inflicted by the bricks. He had nearly died, and his devoted brother had tended him tirelessly, and seen him back to the life that awaited him. Jaime understood that it was Tyrion who had seen him back to his beloved Brienne.
"Thank you." Jaime told him, earnestly.
Tyrion waved off the sentiment, and rolled his eyes at the hectic bedlam going on around them. "This is nothing." He assured the groom.
Jaime smirked, but his eyes remained serious. "While I am eternally grateful for your diligence and effort with the planning of all this," He waved his arm to take in the commotion around him. "That is not what I mean." He corrected. "If not for you I would not be here." Jaime praised his brother. "I would not be preparing to wed the woman I love. I would not know my son. A new babe would not be growing in Brienne's womb." Large remorseful tears threatened to spill from his eyes. "I would be long dead." He lamented. "Thank you, for my life." Jaime said sincerely, holding Tyrion in his deep honest gaze.
Tyrion sniffed, and quickly looked away, unwilling to show how Jaime's words had touched his heart. He stood for a long moment, unable to form his reply, his mind replaying the days and nights he had tended to his brother, so fearful of losing him. Finally he returned Jaime's stare with a heartfelt smile of his own. "That is what brothers are for." He stated plainly, as if no other course had ever occured to him.
The pair smiled, suddenly too timid to speak, or too overcome. It was Podrick who broke the silence between them. The King's Sworn Sword rushed loudly into the Great Hall. He had been standing guard over The King who was surveying the ranks of his new recruits in the courtyard. The Three-Eyed Raven had tasked Pod with fetching his Hand, and relaying the news.
"My Lord!" Podrick shouted, out of breath as he ran to Tryion's side. "A caravan has entered the walls. "It flies the Wolf's banner." He almost smiled as the report left his lips.
"House Stark?" Jaime questioned.
"Queen Sansa." Tyrion answered breathlessly, his face suddenly alight as if he already knew she would be arriving. Jaime watched in wonder as his steadfast and unswerving brother turned into a blithering and nervous fool before his eyes. Tyrion was now the same simpering weakling Jaime was certain he himself became whenever Brienne was near. It was now quite clear to him that Tyrion was in love with Sansa Stark. King Bran's prophecy of the future that awaited the two returned to Jaime's mind. He thought perhaps this would be where their love story was to begin.
Tyrion looked up at Jaime, his tortured glare almost asking for help, before he recovered his composure and his dignity. He pulled at the hem of his doublet and straightened to as tall as he could, clearing his throat. "Come now, Gentlemen." He directed. "We do not want to keep The Queen in The North waiting." He declared. Jaime and Podrick smiled knowingly at each other before falling dutifully into step behind Tyrion.
Outside, the sun shone brightly upon a long line of carriages and wagons which drew slowly to a halt in the courtyard. Although grand and regal, each vehicle was dark and of the rough wood of the North. Sansa's entourage had obviously been ferried across the Straits of Tarth and had snaked along the shore to Evenfall. The size of her traveling party made a grand entrance for the young ruler. Waving proudly above the lead rider was the gray Sigil of the House of the Wolf. It appeared as though word had been given to the gatekeepers of the impending arrival of Queen Sansa's party, as the group had not been stopped before being granted admittance to Evenfall. Again Jaime raised an amusedly suspicious eyebrow in Tyrion's direction. His brother seemed not at all surprised or shocked at the sudden appearance of the northern monarch. Jaime was almost certain she had been expected.
Tyrion gave every indication of coming close to bursting at the entrance of their royal guest. He pranced like a show horse ordering nearby attendants to see to Sansa's disembarking. As her northern guard stood at attention, Evenfall's pages placed wooden steps beneath the lead carriage's door and unfurled a thick woven carpet for the Queen to tread upon. The breath froze in Tyrion's chest at the vision of Sansa as she emerged slowly from the conveyance. To him she was the most beautiful creature to ever walk among men.
Sansa breathed deep the warm salt air, and seemed invigorated from the drudgery of her journey as her eyes locked with Tyrion's. She stepped confidently toward him, almost unaware of the others who surrounded them. Before she could voice a greeting, Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the King, Counselor to the Three-Eyed Raven, diplomat of the realm, bowed low and pledged his allegiance to Sansa Stark of Winterfell.
"My Queen." Tyrion proclaimed, the admiration in his voice unmistakable.
In a soft and inviting acceptance of his gesture, Sansa stretched forth her gloved hand and returned his esteem. "My Lord, Tyrion." She smiled. "I am delighted to see you again." Her gaze held him almost affectionately as he placed a light kiss upon her knuckles in welcome. Their eyes did not stray from each other as he straightened once more. Both seemed to be lost in an unspoken greeting. It was clear that she garnered the same fondness for him, that he was exuding for her.
"I was not sure you would be able to journey this distance from the North." Tyrion apologized. "I am overjoyed that you have come." He gushed.
After several more moments of staring longingly at Tyrion, Sansa noticed her audience, and turned toward Jaime. "The wedding of the heroes of Winterfell." She acknowledged with a grateful smile. "I would not have missed it for the world." She affirmed.
Jaime bowed before The Queen in the North, although not quite with the same worship his brother had. "I believe that accolade goes to your sister." He gladly conceded, referring to Arya Stark, the girl who killed The Night King. "Still, Ser Brienne and I are honored you have journeyed all this way to witness our union." He bent dutifully and brushed his own lips over her fingers with a stiff formality. It was in sharp contrast to the lingering fascination his brother had given to her hand.
At the mention of Brienne, Sansa's expression became a mixture of happiness and worry. She was well aware of her former shield's absence from the yard, and the reason for it. "I pray Ser Brienne is in good health." She told Jaime affectionately. "Lord Tyrion wrote me of your impending blessing. I do hope all is well." She stared questioningly at the expectant father.
Jaime lowered his eyes somewhat bashfully, but flashed a playful look at Tyrion as he answered. He and his wife-to-be had apparently been the subject of his brother's correspondence with The Queen, His subtle intrigue was answered by the overly innocent shrug of his brother's shoulders. "Thank you, Your Grace." Jaime bowed his own head in response. "Ser Brienne's malady is but a nuisance." He informed her. "She is quite well, I assure you." The relief in Jaime's tone was evident as he described Brienne's health. "She will be heartened that you are here." He told Sansa, happily. "With such a great distance between Winterfell and Evenfall and the burden of your responsibilities, we did not dare hope that you would be able to attend." Jaime told her cordially.
Sansa smiled sweetly at Jaime. "I must confess, when first I received Lord Selwyn's invitation I doubted that I would be able to leave The North." She said, regretfully. "However, once Lord Tyrion's raven arrived at Winterfell, the urgency of my presence was made quite clear." She blushed, nodding fondly at Tyrion.
"Lord Tyrion's raven?" Jaime replied quizzically, his eyes questioning his brother.
Eager to change the embarrassingly personal subject, Tyrion stepped brashly between Sansa and Jaime. "I trust your journey was a pleasant one, Your Grace?" He stammered.
"Yes, My Lord." She answered, almost breathlessly. "Quite uneventful, thankfully." She smiled, her cheeks growing even more red.
Visibly relieved, Tyrion imparted his gratitude at the fact. "I am…pleased that you are finally here…Your Grace." He sighed.
Sansa gave him an empassioned stare. "As am I, My Lord." She whispered. It was as if Jaime and the others in the courtyard had disappeared entirely. The elder Lannister was certain that Tyrion and Sansa wished they had.
Hoping to keep the discovery of the obvious feeling which Sansa and Tyrion held for each other from the prying eyes of those who surrounded them, Jaime thought quickly. "I wish you had sent word of your arrival, Your Grace." He spoke up. "We would have made your reception more appropriate." Jaime apologized.
Sansa shook her head cheerfully. "I did not wish for my visit to take any focus from Brienne or the festivities." The Queen acquiesced. "She is the bride. She deserves everyone's attention." Sansa smiled. Jaime and Tyrion nodded their understanding, and regarded her respectfully.
As if suddenly realizing the transparency of her futile attempts to regain her composure, Sansa swallowed hard and forced her gaze from Tyrion. She lifted her chin and addressed Jaime. "I should pay my respects to Lord Selwyn." She announced dutifully. "And to my brother, The King." She stated regally, remembering the manners she had learned from her Lady Mother.
At that moment, Jaime's face brightened, as he peered over Sansa's shoulder. "Ah." He proclaimed. "It appears at least the first part of your wish has come to find you." He smiled, as Brienne emerged from the main doorway of the castle on her father's arm, Galladon snuggled comfortably upon her hip.
Sansa turned quickly, realizing the source of Ser Jaime's fascination. Her smile beamed when she saw her former protector and friend happily approaching. She noticed how Brienne's enthralled eyes never strayed from Jaime.
"I do not think it is me they have come to find." Sansa laughed merrily.
As the words left her lips, they were joined where they stood by the subject of their conversation. A loving smile passed between Brienne and Jaime at their reuniting, before she turned her attentions to Queen Sansa. Ever mindful of her duty and the respect due to Sansa's station, Brienne with Galladon still nestled close braced herself and began to sink to one knee.
Sansa's face registers something between shock and horror and she stopped the expectant mother from straining herself. "Oh Brienne." She gasped. "I will not have you kneel before me in your condition." She smiled considerate of Brienne's needs, and happy to see her dear friend.
A thankful grin washed across Brienne's face as Jaime helped her straighten, and lifted Galladon for her grip. He rested their son to him upon his handless arm, and braced the child's mother with his other, pulling her to him. "Thank you, Your Grace." Brienne lowered her head, gratitude evident in her expression.
Lord Selwyn stepped nobally to greet his royal guest. Bowing low with a warm welcoming smile he addressed The Queen in The North. "Your Grace." He hailed. "We our honored by your presence here on our small isle." He said hospitably.
Sansa's friendly expression matched The Evenstar's as she extended her delicate hand to him. As fitted a lord of his age, he gestured his kiss upon her knuckles and gently released her hand. "I trust you will inform us of anything you require, Your Grace." He offered, grateful for the acceptance and support that Sansa had always shown to Brienne.
"I am sure, everything will be perfect." Sansa assured Lord Selwyn. "Tarth is lovely. Evenfall Hall is as grand as one would expect." She complimented, peering at her surroundings. "I am looking forward to spending time in such a paradise." She replied kindly.
Lord Selwyn lowered his chin in acceptance of Sansa's accolades. "You shall find all of Tarth at your disposal, Your Grace." He assured her. Sansa nodded, acknowledging The Evenstar's generosity.
Another bright joyful smile beamed upon Sansa's face as she turned once more to Brienne. "It seems congratulations are in order. Lord Tyrion has written to me of your impending joyous event." She grinned in Tyrion's direction as Brienne lowered her eyes bashfully to the tiny bump of her waistline. Jaime's reassuring hand wrapped around Brienne's middle and came to rest, softly caressing their second child.
"Oh Brienne." Sansa gushed. "Another sweet babe." She proclaimed gleefully, all formality forgotten. "I could not be happier for you." Sansa affirmed with delight. "Both of you." She said, including the babe's father in her well wishes. Jaime and Brienne held tightly to each other and glowed with pride.
"And look how he has grown." Sansa practically melted as her gaze rested upon Galladon happily perched in his father's embrace. "Might I hold him?" She asked hopefully, her chest swelling with adoration.
"Certainly. Of Course." Brienne and Jaime echoed in response. Carefully, Jaime relinquished his son to Sansa's waiting arms. As if he remembered her Galladon nestled into her care. Sansa melted at the feel of the child in her arms. She recalled how she had grasped Brienne's hand through his birth and watched the new mother's joy upon holding her child for the first time. She now regarded, the adoring family that Brienne, Galladon, and Jaime had become. Sansa's eyes misted with the hope that someday she might know such happiness. Her gaze drifted to an enthralled Tyrion who stood at her side mesmerized with the same notion.
After a long moment of cooing exaggeratedly to Galladon, and proclaiming his own preciousness to him, Sansa feared she might never wish to give him back. She was also very aware of the longing which was evident upon her face. Reluctantly, she handed Galladon back to Jaime, and centered herself with a quick breath, and several blinks to clear her eyes of the tears which had formed. "The Gods have blessed you beyond measure." She smiled at the proud parents.
Brienne and Jaime grinned lovingly at each other. "That they have, Your Grace." Jaime agreed, losing himself in Brienne's eyes. "That they have." He sighed.
Sansa smiled sweetly at the scene before her, and then focused her attentions and inquiry upon The Evenstar. "I would very much like to greet my brother." She told Lord Selwyn, more as a directive than a request.
"I would be happy to see you to The King, Your Grace." Lord Selwyn replied, eyeing Tyrion in hopes the Hand might know the whereabouts of the Three-Eyed Raven."
With a loud clearing of his throat Tyrion interrupted. "The King is communing in the garden." He informed The Evenstar. "His meditation usually takes some time." He apologized hoping Sansa would not be disappointed.
Sansa face dropped a bit. "Oh. I see." She said and then bit her lip awkwardly as she watched Tyrion trying to appease her.
Suddenly, Tyrion brightened as an idea began to form behind his eyes. "Surely you must be weary from your long journey, Your Grace." He assumed. "Perhaps I could show you to your chambers, so you might…rest." He offered hopefully.
As soon as the proposition left his lips, Tyrion feared he had insulted Sansa, or at least given the rest of the onlookers cause to gossip. He held his breath for a moment, innocently waiting to be rebuked for his presumption. He feared his request would be perceived as inappropriate. When, his invitation was not met with reproach he remembered he currently took residence in a house where his brother and the Lord's own daughter had already one babe out of wedlock, live together openly and are expecting another child, all within the plain and approved sight of her father. With that thought Tyrion raised his chin and waited, his small gesture seeming far less shocking. He tried his best to ignore the knowing smile which appeared on his brother's face.
Sansa herself gave the most cheerful acceptance of Tyrion's suggestion. "I would like that very much, My Lord." She asserted confidently. However even as she accepted, a shy blush colored her cheeks.
Tyrion led Sansa nervously down the passageways of Evenfall. For appearance and decorum, he stretched his arm upward to her. In honor of her refined upbringing, she demurely entwined her elbow with his. Overcome by Sansa's beauty and the reality that the woman he desperately loved was at last within inches, Tyrion found his mouth too dry to speak and his heart racing at such a pace he was unsure he could hear any words which might float from her lovely lips. They walked in silence, Tyrion tugging at his collar, Sansa gently clearing her throat. Both far too apprehensive to speak.
The corridor which led to the rooms that had been prepared for quests shimmered with the rays of sunlight that flooded through the open windows and glistened off the rich Tarthian marble of the walls. A warm ocean breeze sauntered along the path that Tyrion led his Queen. It played with tendril of fire red hair which hung at Sansa's neck. She was the most beautiful vision he had ever seen. It was she who finally broke the awkward silence between them.
"I must tell you, My Lord…" She began with an uncharacteristic stammer. "How greatly I have enjoyed our correspondence these past moons." Sansa smiled sweetly at Tyrion.
"As have I, Your Grace." Tyrion answered with a self-conscious smile.
"Reading your letters gave me such joy." Sansa admitted. "It was as if you were there at Winterfell speaking to me." She told him haltingly. Sansa bit her lip shyly but did not take her gaze from his eyes.
"I only wish I had been." Tyrion answered earnestly.
At last they reached the door of the largest and most elaborate suite. Both halted their steps, remorseful their stroll had come to an end. Sansa was aware that Tyrion held onto her fingers a bit longer than was necessary. Tyrion noticed that she allowed his familiarity.
"I wish we would have had more time to get reacquainted, after the battle with the dead." He said sincerely, his tone holding all the longing he had harbored for her.
Sansa drew a hopeful sigh, and licked her lips. Gracefully, she sunk to her knees before him, her eyes searching his. Comfortably, Tyrion took her hands in his. Sansa leaned toward him eagerly. "I would have enjoyed that." Sansa nodded in agreement, her voice nearly a whisper in the hair's breadth that separated them.
Before either could allow their propriety to restrain their desire, they pressed their lips to each other. The kiss, in reality their first, was soft and long and warm. Filled with the years of longing they had finally realized, and elated with the promise of new hope, their passion deepened. Tenderly, they drank in the sweetness of each other, enjoying the taste for which they yearned. Tyrion was glad his doublet was long. It hid well his arousal for her. Sansa felt the same thrilling wetness between her legs that she had known reading his letters. Their bodies begged for each other.
All too soon their longing was hastily interrupted by the wild call of a gull from over the bay. Tyrion and Sansa jolted from their distraction with each other, both blushing in wanton exhilaration. Tyrion drew back. He knew that Sansa's history with such matters was intensely painful. He would not take advantage of her desire. He would care for her like the rare treasure she was, and hope their days to come would offer more hope for a future with her. Tyrion steadied Sansa, and helped her stand. She blushed and looked away even as she held tightly to his hands.
"I shall send the servants to see to your needs." Tyrion told Sansa, as he raised his hand and lightly brushed her cheek.
Sansa looked upon him with an understanding and grateful nod. "That would be most kind." She accepted.
Breathlessly Tyrion opened the door. Sansa smiled at him as she slipped inside. Reluctantly, Tyrion shut the thick oaken panel, allowing Sansa a privacy he so desperately wanted to share. He stood for a long moment in the corridor, his heart racing, his body fighting for control of itself. Sansa was frozen on the other side of the door, willing her lungs to work as she etched every moment of their kiss into her memory. He was certain that time itself would cease until he feasted his eyes upon her again. She hoped the servants would draw her a hot bath, as her hand moved to tease the sensation she felt growing in her most secret places. Surely the concealment of the water would be needed, as her mind and her body reveled upon the image of the man she loved.
On the eve of Brienne and Jaime's wedding, Lord Selwyn held a spectacular feast in honor of the bride and groom. The evening was a festive pageant of merriment and joy with all of those in attendance celebrating their hopes and wishes for the couple. Everyone declared that they had never been witness to such a display of grandeur, or of a father's love for his daughter. No expense had been spared by the Master of Evenfall to ensure that his Brienne's marriage would be adequately recognized, a fact which left every guest excitedly anticipating the actual wedding dinner to be held on the morrow following the ceremony.
The Great Hall of the ancient castle had been virtually transformed into a wonderland of sparkling curiosities. Garlands of Wildflowers from Tarth's gloried meadows hung from the rafters and cascaded along the walls. Banquet tables groaned under the weight of mounds of delicacies from both land and sea. Endless barrels of Dornish wine, imported just for the event, flowed long into the night. Minstrels and bards from all over the Stormlands serenaded the couple of honor, while the dance floor teemed with happy revelers. The King sat with an uncharacteristic broad smile witnessing his Small Council enjoying themselves. Grand Maester Tarly was persuaded to several visits to the dance floor with his wife Gilly. Ser Bronn only agreed to leave the proximity of the flagons to entertain several of the more eligible maidens. Ser Davos, ever a gentlemen, charmed a few of the noble widows on the guest list. Podrick Payne took the opportunity to show off his flirtatious side by enthralling a group of young maidens with tales of his heroism. Lord Gendry gave an admirable effort to smile and politely refuse the attentions of the young ladies who eyed him, his heart still pining for the Lady Arya Stark. Lord Tyrion, nervous as a young squire at his first tournament, timidly requested the privilege of a dance with Queen Sansa, and to his surprise she agreed. Both spent the entire time staring into each other's eyes and completely forgot to speak.
Even Jaime managed to coax a wary Brienne, uncomfortable as she was with such gatherings, from her station along the edge of the crowd for a slow turn on the dance floor. "Shall we?" He grinned, a charming sparkle in his eye as he held out his hand to her.
Brienne answered his proposition with a look of abject terror. "I am not very good." She objected.
Jaime continued undaunted, determined to share a dance with his darling Brienne, and display his pride at the ethereal goddess who had agreed to become his wife. "Neither am I." He shrugged with a careless swagger. "A perfect pair, don't you think?" He smiled hopefully.
The shocked gaze in which Brienne beheld the man who would within less than a full day's time become her husband turned to blushing adoring laughter. "Of course." She agreed, taking his waiting arm and allowing Jaime to sweep her onto the dance floor. The watching eyes of the crowd forgotten, it seemed they were the only two people in the room. Whatever either lacked in prowess was more than eclipsed by the strength of the love they shared. To her core, Brienne truly felt like the lovely young girl she had been for but a moment so long ago when all the boys of the Stormlands vied for her attentions, only this time it was real. This time it would last forever, and this time she understood that the man who held her so gently in his arms believed her the most beautiful woman alive. The proud groom, ever vigilant of his bride's delicate condition clung to her like a priceless treasure and beamed as bright as the Tarthian sun, certain every man in the room seethed with jealousy over the ravishing lady in his grasp.
The night whirled by almost as a dream. Most of the guests were eagerly foregoing sleep in favor of the festivities. Even Brienne swore she would not succumb to the fatigue of her early moons of pregnancy. Fearing the mother of his children would overdo even her strength, Jaime perched Brienne upon a soft cushion and spent his evening seeing to her every need. Choosing to shirk convention, Brienne and Jaime allowed Galladon to remain at the celebration rather than be handed off to a nurse and taken to bed. The grateful mother found no shortage of custodians more than willing to see to his care. The babe spent the night being passed between his mother and father, his grandfather, uncle, and the Queen in the North. Sansa was so attentive to Galladon that the others could barely find a moment to comfort the drowsy boy. Tyrion spent the time starting longingly at his one time wife, dreaming of making her so again, and of the children he wished for with her.
Never, had there been a more jubilant occasion, everyone agreed, which made it all the more alarming when an agitated page burst into the Hall on an urgent route to find The Evenstar. "My Lord." Shouted the boy as he squeezed his way through the crowd, finding Lord Selwyn amidst the throng of friends and family. "A ship has been sighted upon the waters of the bay." He reported, alarmed. "It heads for Castleport." He sputtered. "She flies the Wolf flag." He proclaimed.
The crowd gasped and turned toward the Lady of House Stark, whose Sigil was the wolf. Stopping in the midst of taking her round entertaining little Galladon, Sansa met their shudder with a shocked breath of her own. "Arya!" She announced, hopefully. Brienne and Jaime's son babbled an unintelligible reply. With the Queen's assertion, Gendry stepped fervently to her side, his eyes beaming with as much anticipation as Sansa's held.
"Arya Stark? The killer of the Night King?" Selwyn asked in awe, his eyes sweeping to Brienne and Galladon. It was clear to The Evenstar the debt he owed to Ned Stark's youngest daughter. He knew that his own child and her babe might very well not be alive, if not for the heroism, of the young girl.
Sansa's eyes clouded with tears at the prospect of greeting the sister she feared she would never see again. "I must leave at once." She gasped. "I must go to her." She smiled, her voice weighted with a hopeful sob.
Lord Selwyn regarded Sansa with a caring expression. "If you would allow, Your Grace, I shall accompany you and welcome young Lady Stark to Tarth." He offered with a noble bow.
Sansa nodded graciously. "Thank you, My Lord, but I cannot ask you to leave your guests." She gazed kindly at Brienne nestled protectively in Jaime's arm. "Not on the eve of your daughter's wedding." Sansa respectfully declined The Evenstar's proposal.
Worry lined Tyrion's face as he watched Sansa attempt to control her excitement. He had seen many ships come and go from their ports of call, some laden with treasure, some bringing joy to those who awaited them, and some filled with heartache. He gave a silent prayer to the Gods that Sansa's night would end in joy and not tragedy. So conflicted at the prospects that faced Sansa, and unsure how to protect her, Tyrion stood uncharacteristically nervous and uneasy. With a whirl of his head, his stare traveled from Sansa to Lord Selwyn, and somehow landed upon Jaime who was making his best attempts to garner his brother's attention. Once their eyes locked, Jaime raised his brow and nudged his head forcefully in Sansa's direction, as if to say, 'Here is your chance, accompany your lady love!'
Tyrion understood at once and needed no further coaxing. "I shall escort Queen Sansa to the docks." He spoke up. Then fearing perhaps he had acted too familiarly, he peered sheepishly at the object of his affections. "That is, if I may, Your Grace." He finished, breathless, his heart pounding in his ears yet seeming to stop at the same time.
Sansa returned his glance with a sweet inviting smile. "I would appreciate your company, My Lord." She answered gratefully. Those who knew them well, caught the veiled desire that passed between them.
Hastily, Queen Sansa handed a confused Galladon back over to his mother. Brienne gently eased her babe onto her shoulder. Jaime quickly saw to their comfort and then, knowing that Sansa would someday soon become his sister, volunteered his services in her protection as well. "Might I render my sword among your detail, as well, Your Grace?" He suggested amiably.
Her response was quick and appreciative, but definite. "Thank you, Ser Jaime," Sansa answered. "But I shall not hear of it. "I shall not see you taken from your bride's side this night." She affirmed, her smile sparkling at Brienne.
"Please let us know if there is anything we can do." Brienne begged her. "We pray you will find all is well, and shepherd Lady Arya back within our protection." She wished. Sansa nodded her understanding, and her gratitude.
Before the Queen of the North had taken a step toward the door, Lord Gendry, who had for a moment been struck sullen and silent blocked her path. He stared at Sansa with an earnestness which made her heart ache for him. It was evident that he was still very much in love with her sister. "Please." He said, gravely. "May I follow along?" He beseeched, and then paused. "I need to know she is well." He whispered.
Sansa's kind warm gaze washed over Gendry. She felt for the young man whose heart her sister had broken. "I would have it no other way, My Lord." She agreed. Sansa hoped he would find cause to smile before the night was over.
Before the tiny welcoming party could reach the door of the Great Hall, King Bran beckoned Podrick Payne to guide his wheeled chair to meet them.
"Sansa." Bran called to his eldest sister. The young woman spun round to face her brother. Even past his blank expression and the eerily vacant stare she saw the young boy who had traversed the rooftops of Winterfell, laughed easily, and loved his family with all of his heart. How many times she had wished for the loved ones they had lost.
Bran's stare was almost warm as he beheld his elder sister. It was almost as if he were sensing her thoughts. "Bring her home." He charged her.
"I will." Sansa promised fighting the urge to embrace him and lay a sweet kiss upon his cheek.
Without a word, Lord Tyrion Lannister of Casterly Rock and Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm's End fell into step behind Queen Sansa as she left the Hall. Lord Selwyn yelled for horses to be brought for their departure. The minstrals struck their instruments once more, and the guests began anew their dancing and joyous frivolity. Jaime encircled his arm around Brienne's rounding waist, and kissed her temple. He rested his head upon her shoulder next to that of their now sleeping son. Brienne relaxed against him and they held tight for a long moment, happy and content to be at each other's side as if they had never been parted.
Even at the late hour in which Queen Sansa and her companions reached the docks of Tarth, they found the warfs bustling with activity. Crews of sailors lingered, loitered, and loaded the tall vessels anchored along the shoreline. Ships were still being loaded and unloaded. Cargo was stacked high along the piers. Wagons came and went filled with merchandise and curiosities from around the globe. A few set off bound for Evenfall carrying supplies for the following day's festivities. At the end of the longest jetty was moored the most magnificent and proudest galleon. The ship flew the Sigil of House Stark.
Sansa rode alert in the saddle flanked protectively by Tyrion, and Gendry. She scanned the faces of the crowd, nervously searching for any sign of Arya. Along the short route to Castleport, she had allowed herself to grow troubled that it may not be the same Arya Stark they would find when they arrived. She was now increasingly uncertain that her sister would be there at all.
At her side, Tyrion became edgy as he noticed the lustful stares his Queen was receiving from the tawdry vagabonds that populated the waterfront. For the first time in a long time he was all too keenly aware of the obstacles of his stature, and the failings of his strength. His mind taunted him. How would a woman such as The Queen in the North ever want a man who could not fight for her honor? His own brother had once given his right hand trying to see his lady love to freedom and safety. At the moment, Tyrion would have gladly given both his arms, if only he could protect Sansa.
Perhap none of the traveling group was more pensive than Lord Gendry. The last time he had seen Arya she was refusing his proposal, leaving Winterfell, and disappearing from his life forever. His heart had still not healed. He doubted it ever would. He had tried to forget her, tried to crawl so deeply into his new life as a noble stag that there would be little time for thoughts of the girl he loved. It had been to no avail. Gendry soon found that even as he learned to be a lord, there was little time for anything but grieving his lost hope for a life with Arya, nothing to do but pine desperately for her. In only hours, Ser Jaime would marry and become Lord Commander of the guard at Evenfall, faithfully watching over his wife Lady Brienne. He envied the former Kingslayer. Gendry would become Master of War to the Small Council in Kings Landing. It was a role that, while he welcomed the promised it held, still brought no relief to his aching heart. His Arya had left him behind for a life of sailing the sea. There seemed no way to get her back, until perhaps, the prospects of this night brought a change upon the tides.
The group was hopeful as they brought their mounts to a stop at the bottom of the lowered gangplank. Tyrion peered guardedly around them for any signs if danger as Sansa jumped hastily from her horse, eager to find Arya. Gendry followed, anticipation lining his brow and choking his breath. A few paces from them a burly deck hand bent to scoop a crate into his muscular grip.
"You there." Sansa called authoritatively. The man stood as he hoisted the chest onto his shoulder in one easy motion, whatever was inside the wooden box clanked like jugs of ale. The seafarer's skin was the color of leather, and marked with the vestiges of the burning sun, and salt air in which he had spent much of his life. He turned looked down upon the slight demure fire haired girl who addressed him. He towered over Sansa even more than had The Hound. As the comparison flashed through her mind, Sansa recalled the day of The Bread Riots when Sandor Clegane had saved her from the drunken hoard bent of rape and murder. For a moment she wished he was there, a fair match for the strength of the being who now towered over her. Her face grew timid as she regarded him. To bolster her resolve, Sansa looked over her shoulder at Tyrion. She recalled the image of his deeply concerned faced as she had been carried into the Red Keep over the arm of Joffrey's bodyguard. His presence had been a comfort then, now it was her strength. Sansa had known for moons that she loved him, and she was glad Tyrion was now with her.
Quickly Sansa regained her composure and tried to hide her shock as she returned her attention to the sailor. "Where is your captain?" She inquired forcefully.
The stranger stared down at her with almost no care at all. "Hmph." He snorted. "Captain?" He repeated, his accent revealing his birthplace as the Summer Isles. "What business do you have with The Wolf?" He eyed Sansa suspiciously.
"Do you know to whom you are speaking?" Tyrion declared proudly, defending Sansa as best he could. "This is the Queen in the North." His tone was almost a threat, daring the man not to show the proper respect. Before anyone could react, a familiar voice called from the deck of the ship.
"Sansa!" Arya shouted in surprise.
Sansa shifted carefully around the living obstacle, her smile growing broad as she at last set eyes upon her younger sister. "Arya!" Sansa yelled in delight, heading up the gangplank.
Arya wasted no time in racing to intercept Sansa's path. The two met at the top of the ramp and threw their arms around each other, both laughing and crying with joy. Words failed them as they held each other. Neither had expected to ever see the other again. Below them Gendry and Tyrion traded a compassionate glance at the happiness of the women they loved.
Suddenly, Sansa began to chuckle as she leaned back and studied Arya. "The Wolf?" She giggled, questioning the inception of the girl's apparent nickname.
Arya blushed and laughed in response. "That's what they call me." She shrugged. "Because of…you know." She pointed nonchalantly at Stark Sigil overhead, flying intimidatingly from the mast. Sansa nodded, a beaming smile on her face.
Arya stared in disbelief. "I never expected to find you here, on Tarth." She exclaimed. "We are a long way from Winterfell." She gasped.
Sansa nodded. "I am a guest at Evenfall Hall." She replied sweetly. "Ser Brienne and Ser Jaime are to be married on the morrow." Sansa explained.
Arya's eyes widened. "Ser Jaime? Lannister?" She asked in shock. "Ser Jaime is alive?" Her jaw dropped.
"You will find a great many things changed since you set sail, I believe." Sansa informed her sister. "The last word of you was as you rounded the tip of Dorne and set West upon the tide." Sansa recalled. "It is I who should be asking how you came to be on Tarth?" She questioned pleasantly.
Arya's eyes grew wistful. "We are taking on supplies for the last of our journey." She answered.
"The last of your journey?" Sansa asked, bewildered.
"Yes, North." Arya replied, her eyes holding an unspoken pleasure. "We are bound for White Harbor. The travel to Winterfell is far less treacherous this time of year from there than over the Western mountains." She explained, staring earnestly at Sansa. "I'm coming home." She smiled, her eyes misting with tears.
"Home?" Sansa whispered hopefully. "I thought you wished for a life of adventure?" She was almost feared the relief gathering in her heart.
Arya lowered her eyes. "I did." She stated assuredly. "Then I had a lot of time to think as we sailed." Arya explained. "We are all we've got left, Sansa. I missed you." She smiled, bringing her gaze to meet her sister's eyes.
Sansa grinned knowingly. "I was the only one you missed?" She asked, the amused judgment in her tone unmistakable.
Arya rolled her eyes. "Well, there were…others." She agreed, a hint of sadness drawing down the corners of her mouth.
Sansa nodded excitedly. "That is what I thought." She proclaimed, taking Arya by the shoulders and directing her gaze to one who waited on the dock below.
In the moment it took for her eyes to focus over the distance, realization dawned as she recognized the man she had left behind. "Gendry." She whispered, her feet drawing her almost unconsciously toward the gangplank and the one she hoped would take her back.
At the bottom of the incline, Gendry watched as Arya appeared once more above him. He could not gauge her expression as she stood transfixed in the stare they held between them. Her face was a mixture of terror and hope, love and regret. As if they were one, each sprinted to cover the distance which separated them. They met in the middle of the plank. Needing only the length of a heartbeat to read the other's thoughts, Arya jumped into Gendry's open embrace. He encircled his arms around her, and held her to him. She clung to his neck as if she had been saved from drowning.
"I'm sorry." Arya gulped. "I'm sorry. Can you ever forgive me?" She entreated him.
Gendry brought her round to face him. "There is nothing to forgive." He declared before he drew her to him, and kissed her passionately. Arya melted against him.
Sansa and Tyrion looked away, allowing the reunited couple their privacy, and in doing so found their own eyes locked in a longing gaze. Each secretly wished it were them openly displaying the love they had yet to divulged. Both felt some unseen force pulling them to each other. Inwardly, they swore that their declarations would be made to each other before their time on Tarth was finished.
Arya and Gendry broke happily from each other and descend toward the waiting horses. Sansa followed them, her loving gaze still upon Tyrion. He found himself turning to a useless stuttering pile of flesh under her adoring scrutiny. "My Lady." was all he could manage to nod to her sister as Gendry led Arya toward the horses.
"Lord Tyrion." Arya answered politely, noticing the unspoken fascination between he and Sansa. She smiled to herself at the possibility.
Hand in hand, Gendry and Arya reached his waiting mount. Decorum surrendered to desperation as he pressed her fingers to his heart. "Return with us to Evenfall?" He begged.
Arya's wide smile shined over him like the sun. "Try to stop me." She declared.
At Evenfall, though a number of guests took their drowsy leave and returned to their chambers to sleep off their drunken states, the celebrating continued long into the wee hours of the morning. Lord Selwyn showed no signs of slowing his festive pace, as he waited for Sansa, Tyrion, and Gendry to return, hopefully with Arya Stark. Jaime kept a vigilant and watchful eye over Brienne, who tried to hide her weariness but retired to a cozy seat next to the hearth while Galladon slept in her arms. The King himself joined them in their quiet conversation.
"Go and enjoy yourself, Ser Podrick." He waved off his dutiful custodian as he was wheeled beside the lounging couple. "A few of those young ladies still have their eyes on you." He nodded in the direction of the group of giggling young maidens who had made Podrick their target for the evening.
Podrick grinned bashfully, but did not protest. "Thank you, Your Grace." He bowed, leaving Bran in the company of the bride and groom.
Jaime laughed as he watched Podrick retreat back to the adoring attention of his admirers. "He seems to be quite the catch, does he not?" He joked to Brienne and The King.
Bran joined Jaime in his pleasant contemplation of Podrick's popularity. "I dare say it is not only your union that will be sealed during our time here at Evenfall." He prophesied.
Brienne's eyes widened. "Really? One of them?" She pondered staring at the group of girls like a disapproving mother. She noticed that Pod had moved closer to the quietest one of the collection.
"Time will tell." Was all Bran would answer. Jaime raised his goblet in a silent toast to whomever might be the future wife of the young knight.
"It's seems many things have occurred within such a short time." Brienne smiled, laying her palm over the bulge that was her unborn child. "I hope Queen Sansa and Lord Tyrion find your sister well, and return with her soon." Brienne wished, thinking of the surprise and hope with which they had learned of Arya's possible arrival that very evening.
Bran nodded. "They will find my sister quite well, indeed." He affirmed. "All of them are venturing back to Evenfall as we speak." The Three-Eyed Raven seemed to almost be watching their progress.
"That is very welcome news." Brienne smiled. "Hopefully Lady Arya will consent to stay for a while." She offered. "Perhaps she could be persuaded to accompany us when we returned to Kings Landing." Brienne suggested. "Surely there might be a position she would accept." Jaime squirmed beside her, already aware of what was to become of Arya Stark, and keenly remiss at not relating to Brienne the changes soon to be made to the Small Council.
Bran looked kindly at her, realizing she had not been informed of all the details of his visions. "It appears Ser Jaime has not imparted to you all that we spoke of so many days ago in the garden." He gave Jaime a slightly disapproving but understanding censure.
Jaime quickly took Brienne's hand and held it tightly. "Forgive me, My Love." He looked earnestly into her eyes. "I wanted the news to come from the King in due time." He explained. "I did not wish to trouble you." Jaime apologized.
"News of what?" Brienne shook her head, her confused stare traveling from Jaime to King Bran as alarm grew within her.
Bran regarded her kindly, knowing the pride she had taken in her role as Lord Commander. "Ser Brienne, you and Ser Jaime will not be returning to Kings Landing when the Red Keep is repaired." He informed her. "You shall both remain here on Tarth." He announced, as her face fell. "You shall be Evenstar when the time comes, and Ser Jaime your Lord Commander. Your future, and that of your children will be long and happy." He told her with the same reverent tone as when she first arrived in The Capital to assume her duties. "My sister Arya is to be your successor." He proclaimed.
Brienne took a moment to allow the meaning of The King's words to form fully in her brain. There was a time, before Jaime had returned to her, that she could think of no greater purpose than guarding the ruler of the realm. However, much had changed. It seemed only right that her focus now be upon the family she was building with the man she loved, and the hopes and dreams they were discovering. She was proud of the fierce and independent woman Arya had become. Brienne was certain there was no one else she could imagine replacing her in The King's detail. Her face softened, and the worry left Brienne almost as soon as it appeared.
Brienne cast a loving smirk in the direction of her betrothed, but addressed her words to Bran. "I suspected such might be the case when Ser Jaime first told me of your prophecy for our life." She told him, connections finally forming in her thoughts. "I understand. I am honored I was able to serve you for the time I was given." Brienne assured him. "I could think of none other better suited to lead your Guard." She praised.
Bran nodded, graciously accepting her tribute to Arya. "You have seen to your duties well, Ser Brienne." He acknowledged. "I believe Ser Jaime has informed you that your next role will not only be as Evenstar, but as mother of the future King." He stated, glancing at her rounding form.
Brienne instinctively caressed the babe growing within her, the child of which he spoke. "He has, Your Grace." Brienne replied proudly. "It is a responsibility I cherish, my most blessed duty." She smiled.
Bran smiled compassionately at Galladon. "Love him, and care for him as you have you first born, and he will grow to be a wise and caring ruler." The King affirmed.
Jaime puffed with pride at Brienne's side, and held her close in a protective arm. "We will." He swore. Bran's expression made it clear to him the he never once questioned anything to the contrary. He bowed his head for a moment in reverence to the family of his own successor.
"Well then." King Bran said calmly, regaining his solemn air. "If you will excuse me. There is another matter I must discuss with someone." He nodded graciously.
Content that the future of Westeros and of those closest to him was bright and full of promise, King Bran excused himself. He left the couple to contemplate their life together. Bran slowly wheeled himself away, further into the crowd. His next destination at the festivities that night was a conversation he needed to have with Robyn Arryn.
Jaime moved closer to Brienne, intent on seeing to her comfort. "Are you very upset, My Darling?" He questioned nervously.
Brienne turned to him, surprised by his question. "Oh no." She answered, a loving smile finding her lips. "I suppose part of me already knew." She admitted, accepting the changes occurring in her life. "I cannot be Evenstar, and a wife, and a mother, and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard all at the same time." Brienne conceded.
"I fear that would too many helms for even your capable head, My Dear." Jaime agreed, placing a kiss into her hair. When Brienne sighed contemplatively in response Jaime eyed her, hoping she was not merely painting a brave face over her disappointment. "Are you quite sure we will be enough for you?" He teased, cradling Galladon's head in his palm and then lightly pinching Brienne's chin.
She laughed softly at his feigned concern, shaking her head at the idea that she would ever find anything lacking about her station. "My life with you here, and with our growing family is what I dream of now." Brienne reached and stroked Jaime's cheek. "I have everything I never knew I always wanted." She sighed, satisfied and content.
"And tomorrow you will become my wife." Jaime replied in awe that she had chosen him. Joy gleamed upon Brienne's face like the rays of the sun as she held Jaime in her gaze.
Jaime raised Brienne's hand and kissed her palm. "The Lannisters of Tarth." He announced, his brow rising excitedly. "It has a nice ring don't you think?" Jaime asked, his eyes sparkling at her.
Brienne's loving smile meant more to Jaime than any treasure, any title, any legend he had ever earned. "Most definitely, My Love." She declared happily as Jaime gathered his bride in his arms and kissed her with thrilling abandon.