Five and one half years into King Jon's Reign- Part One
(a piece of this is based off of a lovely cartoon by fawnilu where Jamie is playing with his children. I hope she doesn't mind that I borrowed her idea)
….
Jamie took a heavy breath, this was not good at all.
"Look, I know your mad bu-."
"I'm not mad." She shoot back at him, her eyes never leaving the schedule she's been studying the entire time he'd been standing in the doorway.
"Oh." He sucks in another breath, tilting his head to the side. "You're mad."
"I've told you, that I think this is an over reaction." She shakes her head. "Just because some Essos arse of a king, or whatever inane thing they call their monarch, makes a disparaging remark about Sansa it has to set off some intercontinental feud and we have to mark his perhaps innocent visit with an outrageous show of military might?"
"I've told you, I don't disagree." He reminds her.
"I think we're risking over inflating this, it may look threatening. I'd rather not threaten our potential new enemies." She taps her pen on the edge of her paper, leaving angry holes.
"I know. And If i would have been in the small council with you I would have backed you up, but I wasn't." He moves forward a few steps. "And I am assigned to Arya Stark and even though Arya Stark is a better fighter then I have been in a over a decade, I have to go North with her."
"The King's hand has no business riding North for a diplomatic meet and greet. They are letting their feelings for Sansa cloud their judgment." She grinds her teeth hard enough to make him wince.
"I know." He tells her kindly. "But my brother and his children are also up there and I have to say I understand it."
"I understand as well, Jaime!" She shoots back at him. He watches her had clench into a fist, why was she so upset about this?
"Darling-." He sighs heavily.
"If you could refrain from calling your Lord Commander silly pet names while in her office I would appreciate it."
Jamie wet his lips with his tongue before continuing, taking another small step towards her. She's far too upset about this and he's struggling to come up with a way to calm her.
"I remember quite fondly that some of our most early intimate conversations were in this office." He breathes moving towards the window. He grins, hearing her shift in her chair behind him. "I gave you that sword on your hip in this office."
"I would think we've had more intimate moments since then, Ser." The anger is gone from her voice, but the tension remains.
"I don't know." He hums, with that cocky Lannister vibrato that he knows makes her roll her eyes, but it also stirs something in her. "That was basically a declaration of my undying devotion back then. Maybe the first actual courting I'd ever done in my life." He turns, watching her lips flutter in an attempt not to smile. "Little did you know.."
"I knew." She tells him, her shoulders dropping. He opens his mouth but a knock at the door has him closing it just as quickly. "Come."
Jamie squares his shoulders up as Ser Podrick enters the room.
"Sers." He looks at Brienne. "You called for me?"
"I did Pod. You'll be going North."
"I'm sorry?"
"I'd like you to lead." Jaime appreciates his wife's ability to get to the point, he further appreciates the look of terror on the young Knights face. He swings his glance at him and the older man gives him a little nod.
"But My La- Lord Commander, Ser Jaime-."
"Will be right at your side to provide counsel if you are in need, but his main concern is the Hand of the King. Yours will be my men. Do you understand?"
"Yes Ser." He gave her a swift nod.
"If it is decided by Lady Arya that we will engage then you will engage, until that point you will keep my ranks under control. Do you understand?"
He shoots his eyes to Jaime who offers him another nod.
"Yes Ser."
"Good. Dismissed. Both of you." Jamie rolls his eyes at her.
"Can we please finish this discussion?"
"I'll be home in a few minutes." Brienne glares at him.
"As you wish, Ser." He huffs making his way out of the room.
"Pod." Her voice is so soft he almost doesn't hear it in the hallway. "A moment."
"Yes Ser?"
"If.." It's the softness in her voice that makes him creep back towards the room to listen. "If you do engage…"
"I wouldn't do so with out Ser Jaime's advising."
"Ser Jaime-." She pauses. "When I said you'd be at his side-."
""I'll count on his counsel-."
"If you would make it his left side.."
"Ma'am?"
"He still.. Overcompensates. He feels more vulnerable on the right so he tends to-." Her reluctance to talk about his weakness warms him, he can feel the smile pull at his face despite his own desire to squawk that he absolutely does not do that. "He leaves his left flank vulnerable."
"Left side." He hears Pod repeat to her dutifully. "You have my word."
"Thank you." His wife whispers back.
…...
"And then, the lady-knight's wooden sword broke and she was standing unarmed in the pit. One on one with the bear." Jaime holds up the bear carving again, shaking it slowly over the other figure. He tries to hide the smirk as Tom closes his eyes tightly, he turns back to Amena and Ty who both sit raptured. "But just as all hope was about to be lost, a brave one handed knight jumped into the pit. He was unarmed, risking his life to save her. He boosted her out of the pit, and she pulled him up after in return."
"And then what?" Amena asks from Janali's lap, her chubby face leaning towards Jaime, dark curls cascading over her mother's arms.
"Well, she gave him a kiss and-."
"Are you lying to the children?" Brienne calls to him from the doorway. "I did not kiss you."
"You should have." Jamie shrugs. "I'm just making you more clever in my version."
"Why didn't you kiss him, Mummy?" Tomsyl asks, his four year old eyes regarding her very seriously. "You didn't want to kiss, Father?"
"I've never not wanted to kiss your father." She hums, looking into his crinkled green eyes, she scrunches up her nose. "But he was very dirty."
"I was not!" Jaime baulks. "I'd just recently bathed if you do remember, Ser."
"I remember." She sighs wistfully.
"Come on children." Janali calls looking between her Lord and Lady before, pulling herself and Amena off the floor. "Speaking of dirty, it's time to get washed for supper."
Jaime rises, leaving the props of his story on the play table before him as he meanders towards her, please when she doesn't move away. He palmed her hip, moving her closer before his hand drifted over her curved stomach. He wonders how much longer until he'll be able to feel their next born child move beneath his palm. She sighs next to him, leaning in until lifts his eyes to hers. He smiles as her fingers rise to his cheeks and she presses her mouth into his.
"What was that for?"
"For jumping one handed and unarmed into a bear pit." She teases.
"Better late than never, I guess." He pulled her body tight to his. "Were you going to tell me about my volunterable left flank?"
"Jaime-." He brushed her lips with his to silence her.
"I know that when I get protective and worry about your vulnerability it bothers you. I know you see it as some kind of slight, but I have to say My Love, I don't share that." He pecks a kiss on her cheek bone. "I actually find it quite endearing when you worry about me."
"You wouldn't have felt that way if I'd acted on my impulse to tell Arya I wouldn't send you to Winterfell." She huffs.
"Yes how offensive that my pregnant lady wife wants me to stay alive."
"We are warriors-."
"I am an old man with one hand." He snorts, as she drops her face against his chest.
"Stop it."
"I'll be careful. I'll stick close to Pod, and Arya as well, she's quite fond of me and I hear she may have some skills in the fighting department." He draws his thumb across her jaw.
"It's driving me mad, not going." She confesses, her nose rubbing against his collarbone as she shakes her head at her own faults. "It's ridiculous."
"It's driving me mad we won't be able to reenact all of our best Winterfell stories." He hums.
"Well, we have the dolls." She teases, smiling as he laughs.
"At least now I know why my damn left side is always so sore after we spar." He told her, moving his hand back to the baby. "Here I thought you were just that good."
"I am that good." She spit at him indignantly.
"Against a one handed old knight." He teases.
"Against anyone in that sparring yard." She held herself up stiffly. "With child or without."
"I like it better when you fight without." He decides, his eyes wrinkling.
"Then stop getting me pregnant." She let her eyebrow raise.
"I don't remember you complaining during the actual getting." He reminds.
"This is the last time."
"You said that last time." He reminded her.
"I mean it this time." She sighs, turning and making her way back towards the children.
"Pretty sure you meant it last time." He chuckles to himself.
….
Lord Commander Kings Gaurd
Winterfell
Dear Ser,
Crisis averted, the army will march south tomorrow.
I will return via ship, with the Snow Queen, Tyrion and these icy northern children in search of sun with my left flank intact. Arya believes a week or two in Tarth will do us all well. She's written Jon herself.
Pod did well, you should be proud
I'll see you soon, Darling.
Ser Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock and Evenfall Hall
Brienne traces her fingers over the painstaking scratched block letters with a slow grin before sending a raven of her own to her father, telling him to prepare for a potential visit from the King.
…
Arya bit her lip, her eyes scanning the horizon before glancing back out at the beach as her nieces and nephews run in and out of the sapphire waves.
"There you are." She smiles a the sound of her sisters voice. "What are you doing up here? You should be down there enjoying my beautiful children."
"I'm enjoying them just fine from up here." She sniffs.
"I'm not going to take that personally. Seeing as I know you're up here indulging in the small part of you that wishes you were the Lady of Storm's End." Sansa raises a perfect eyebrow.
"Rubbish." Her sister snorts.
"It's almost tragic how he hasn't taken a bride." She bats her eyes. "It's what sad stories told by little girls in the court are born from."
"Not your little girl." Arya looks up triumphantly, but Sansa's face has nothing but pride.
"No." She smiles, watching her four year old daughter swat her wooden sword at her cousin as Jaime watches with intensity, shouting little corrections at her a Ty. "My daughter takes after her aunts." She looks warmly at her sister. "All three of them were strong, smart warriors."
"You think of her?" Arya tilts her head. "You look at your daughter and see Cersei?"
"How can I not?" She smiles down at Lyanna, who had now easily knocked Ty out of the game and was sparing with her Uncle Jaime. "With those beautiful Lannister locks of gold?"
"You hated Cersei." Arya shakes her head.
"She taught me." Sansa's face is peaceful and for a second Arya is jealous. "I'm a better ruler because of her. I'm a better mother."
"So evolved." Arya chides.
"She was much worse to my husband, yet he loved her just the same."
"I wasn't always the best sister either." Arya whispers.
"You never sent a sellsword after me." Sansa shrugs. "There's that."
"No. I never did." She looks back out that the waters.
"I'm glad she's like you and Brienne." Sansa whispers, pressing her fingers against her sister's arm.
"I wish Bran had come." Arya sighs, laying her palm over her sisters hand.
"He's here." She shrugs. "He's.. everywhere."
"When I look at them-." Arya stops, until her she feels Sansa's hand squeeze her arm. "I remember.."
"We had a beautiful little childhood didn't we?"
"Jon misses Rob. You wouldn't believe how many times he asks me what I think Rob would do." She swallows. "And I don't think any of us but Bran has ever really considered who Rickon really was, or would have become."
"I do sometimes." Sansa's voice is quiet and still, Arya has to turn to her to hear it. "I think it's why I named my first born son for him. To write him a better story then the one he received. Tyrion wanted me to wait, wait for a baby that wasn't a dwarf." She smiles sadly. "My poor sweet husband. He said that in a rewritten life a man should look like Jamie Lannister." Arya's eyes fall on her brother in law, sitting in the sand with his two year old son and young Tom; all of their blonde hair shining back in the son, working the strings of a kite. "I think he will do just fine looking like his father."
"Can you imagine what mother would say? Us sunning South, up to our ears in Lannisters?"
"She'd hate it." Sansa smiles brightly. "And love it. She'd love it more if you'd stop brooding and go play with your niece. You're really going to let her learn sword work from a Lion?"
"You're sure it doesn't bother you? You've birthed two children a warrior for me and a dwarf for your husband. Where is your fiery mini-lady who longs for the fairytale?"
Sansa pulled their joined hands from her sister's arm and settled them on her middle.
"Perhaps this one is her." She beams at Arya's wonder.
"How many are you going to have?" Her sister grimaces.
"As many as I can." She grins, turning back out to where Tyrion has gotten the kite in the air and her chubby stout toddler is racing after it as far as his little legs can carry him. "And they'll have a beautiful little childhood too."
…..