"This is not wise, Dany," admonished Brienne, but gently, upon arriving at the corner turret upon which her friend had stationed herself. "It is too cold. You will become ill again."
"Nonsense," Dany replied from where she sat overlooking the approach to Tarth's small marina. "It is not even all that chilly; it is worse at Casterly Rock in full winter than Tarth in autumn. Pod has created a tiny little palace here for me; he has covered this chair with every pillow in the castle, wrapped me in every blanket to be found on the island, and brings me another cup of tea every half-hour."
She raised the latest such cup as proof.
"And he has been muttering about building a fire up here, as well. I rather think he believes we are camping, instead of just sitting here and watching the horizon. He seems to be enjoying himself. Ah, here he is again. Pod, give that tea to Her Excellency. I have not yet finished the last cup."
"You are in high spirits," Brienne commented, accepting the tea with a nod and watching, amused, as Pod hovered about Dany ensuring no pillow had dared to displace itself, nor blanket become untucked, in the ten minutes since he had last left his lady. "I had thought you would be nervous, but I find you up here, positively languid."
"Podrick convinced me of the futility of pacing and wringing my hands," said Dany. "Their ship will sail just as fast if I worry myself sick as it will if I sit here and be waited upon like a pasha. Pod, be so kind as to bring up a chair for Her Excellency, won't you?"
"There's no need—" Brienne started to say, but he was already gone. She sighed. "I feel like today is the day, Dany."
Dany nodded. "As do I. And if not today, tomorrow. Soon. Soon, they will be with us."
They watched. They waited. Silently, patiently. Pod brought up the promised chair, and Brienne took a seat. They waited some more.
"I have things I should be doing," Brienne murmured at one point, but made no effort to move.
"I need a chamber pot," Dany said a little after that. "Too much tea." But she continued to sit there and stare out over the water.
But that pressing urge continued to press, until she was forced to take herself away to a privy. Afterward, when she set foot to step, intending to climb back up to the turret, she heard a thundering from above and flattened herself back against the wall.
"They're coming!" exclaimed Brienne as she descended the steps three at a time, dashing out into the hallway. "They're going to the main dock, not the Hall's private dock as we'd expected."
"You go hitch up something, I'll follow," Dany promised, then shrieked, "Podrick!"
With a nod, Brienne dashed toward the stables.
Pod pelted around a corner, panting, the teacup in his hand half-empty from sloshing its contents into its saucer as he had run. "Your Highness?"
"With me, as I go," she commanded, taking off after Brienne as quickly as she could. In a corset and frock, she could not sustain the pell-mell speed of her friend in her comfortable split skirt and redingote, but strode along as best she could, breathlessly calling out commands to Podrick as she went.
"Make sure the solar has a fire!" she instructed as they crossed the courtyard. "And pillows, get them all down from the turret… food, nothing that needs to be hot, in case they don't wish to dine right away… it must all be able to eat with one hand… make sure there is wine, and His Grace likes cognac… light the hearths in their bedrooms, in case they want to sleep, and warm the sheets… put water on to boil, for tea and baths—"
Brienne burst from the stables driving a gig. She stopped only long enough for Pod to fling Dany up onto the seat at her side.
"—and then hitch up the carriage and follow us down to the dock!" she called as they careened away. She could hear Pod shouting orders to the other servants as they sped away, rounding the long curve leading down from the castle toward the town of Evenfall.
"I'm scared," Brienne said, so quietly that Dany could scarcely hear her over the rapid thuds of the horse's hooves. "What if he won't let me help him?"
"He will," Dany told her. She wanted to pat her friend's arm, or squeeze her hand, but had to cling to the seat to keep from flying off every time they took a turn. "Don't you remember? Major Lannister is revoltingly absolute in how sweet he is on you."
Brienne sucked in a deep breath and expertly guided the gig over a little stone bridge. "I hope you're right."
"Of course I am," Dany said comfortably. "After so long, how can you doubt it?"
"It's been almost two years since I've seen him. And eight since you've seen Jon. Are you not nervous at all?"
"Before Jon's last letter, I would have been. But now… no. His words have set an immovable certainty in my heart. For Jon and myself, and for you and Jaime. We have not come through so much only to fail now."
Brienne's cerulean eyes met Dany's for long moment, and then she gave a decisive nod, back to her usual rock-solid self.
"No, we haven't," she agreed firmly. "All will be well. I won't permit anything else."
Dany grinned into the wind; fate would not dare to contradict Brienne when she had decided upon something. She was more stubborn than an entire herd of aurochs.
They reached the town of Everfall just as the ship hove into port. Its residents, long accustomed to their lady's cavalier attitude toward safe driving speeds, did not blink an eye as she hurtled down its main street, expertly guiding the nimble little gig around pedestrians and vehicles alike.
Upon reaching the dock, they skidded to a halt, sending a spray of gravel a dozen feet in every direction, just as the gang plank was shoved off the side of the ship to land with a clatter on the worn, warped boards. Dany was well aware that they had just made the least dignified arrival in the history of Westeros, but could not scrape up the slightest bit of concern.
Brienne grunted as she grasped Dany's waist and lifted her down, not from any burden of her friend's weight— which was negligible compared to her burly strength— but because she had caught sight of numerous soldiers and sailors on the deck of the ship, all gawking at them in what Dany felt was a most impolite manner. Brienne threw back her shoulders, which made her already-impressive height loom even taller. She wrapped her palm around the grip of her ever-present sword, looking as grim as when she marched out to face the ever-infringing pirates.
Dany, however, lifted her chin and surveyed them with her most haughty and regal stare, meeting the eyes of each individual man until he looked away in shame. She had not been brought up by Viserys to quail before a pack of impudent soldiers and sailors.
"You must teach me how you do that," muttered Brienne.
"You already know how," Dany replied. "All you must do is project how much better you know you are."
Brienne scoffed.
"You are worth three times as much as however many men as are aboard that ship at this very moment," said Dany. "Why else would Jaime love you so? He's the handsomest man in Westeros, and the richest. He could literally have any woman in the world, but he went to war for eight years so he could keep himself to you alone. He did not do it for his own amusement, you foolish thing."
"Not every woman," Brienne quipped back to her, a new lightness in her extraordinary eyes making them more vivid and compelling than even the sapphire waters encircling her island. "You wouldn't have him as a gift."
"I already have a gift of my own," Dany said. "But before I met Jon? If I hadn't realized you loved Jaime? Yes, I'd have married him as soon as the banns were read."
Brienne looked startled, then amused. "Good for me, then, that I'm such a poor actress that you were able to tell. Though the way you and Jaime squabble… your home would not have been a peaceful one."
Dany grinned up at her. "We'd have rowed frequently, yes, but I daresay we'd have made efforts to reconcile just as often, and a house can be very peaceful when its lord and lady haven't left their bed in three days."
That started Brienne into laughing, even as she gained a thoughtful expression about the possibilities of such a thing, and Dany joined her, and that was the sound that rang out over the dock as their men began to leave the ship. There was a flash of scarlet wool, and then Jaime appeared at the end of the gangplank. Dany heard Brienne's gasp, their laughter fading, and felt her own mouth drop open in spite of trying her best to keep a stoic facade for the sake of appearances.
Jaime seemed to have aged a decade in the year since she had last seen him, his hair cropped brutally short to reveal a face far more lined than before, with weary grooves bracketing his mouth. His right arm was in a sling, strapped close to his chest, and where a hand would have exited the open end of the sling was vacant. Somehow, though, his suffering had only rendered him more devastatingly attractive than ever. His eyes were just as green, and they locked onto Brienne with the same painful intensity as always.
Dany was jolted from her reverie of studying Jaime by Brienne's harsh breathing; looking up, she saw her friend shaking from the strain of standing still, instead of racing to the man she loved as she so clearly wished. Dany slipped her hand into Brienne's, squeezing to give her strength, then winced when her friend's grip tightened to the point of pain and beyond. Dany made not a sound; Brienne could break all five of her fingers, if that was what she needed in that moment.
Another clatter sounded behind them, and slowing hoofbeats, and then the Hall's carriage was rolling to a far-more-subdued stop besides the gig. Pod descended from his seat beside the coachman and came to flank Dany's other side, flashing her his usual cheerful grin. She was very grateful for his staunch presence, because she felt a bit dizzy with anticipation and might have need of his strong arm if her stamina betrayed her.
Once Jaime stepped off the gangplank, another man appeared upon it. Wiry, his face as sun-creased as a raisin, he hoisted two massive canvas duffle bags, one to each shoulder, as if they weighed nothing at all.
"That's Bronn, my lady," said Podrick.
She hummed to acknowledge his words, but felt herself start to bounce on her toes, restless to see the man most important to her.
"Where is he?" she asked, more to herself than to her companions. "Is he not there? He must be. Where is he?"
"Shall I go ask, my lady?" Pod offered, his face kind and, she thought, a bit worried as well.
"Yes," she answered. "And—"
She stopped short, because there on the gangplank, at last, was Jon. His hair was a wild tumble of sable curls that fell to his shoulders, and his face just as brown as he had said, but there was a worryingly gray cast underlying the color. The haleness had gone from him, leaving him far less robust than Dany remembered from Highgarden. As he took his first step onto the gangplank, he swayed with the ship, and for a ghastly moment, it seemed as if he would blow off into the sea.
"Oh!" she cried, and before she realized what she was doing, had released Brienne's hand to dash toward the ship.
"Dany!" exclaimed Brienne, but Dany did not heed her, blind and deaf to anything but Jon and how he needed her. She raced across the rough boards of the dock, aware of Jaime staring at her in shock as she came ever closer. Jon looked up at her, then, and his face slackened at the sight of her.
Just as she was to pass Jaime, just when Bronn realized that she was barreling toward him and gaped in surprise, Jaime reached out with his left arm and collected Dany against him.
"My dear," he said, gazing down at her with an expression that most people would interpret as devotion, but which she knew was a stern warning to keep to her role. "I have missed you just as much, but there was no need for you to make such a scene."
"Let me go," she begged in a whisper, struggling to be free. "He needs me, Jaime."
But Jaime just clasped her harder and forced a smile onto his face.
"As you can see, we are all fine, if a bit the worse for wear. Bronn will do whatever is needed to get us to the castle in whole pieces."
He glanced over his shoulder at the other man, who dropped the duffles and dutifully made his way back to Jon. Climbing back onto the gangplank, he said something to Jon, then turned to face forward. Jon placed his hands on Bronn's shoulders and, with that reassurance, was far more steady against the rocking and motion of ship versus gangplank.
Jaime pressed his cheek to hers, his cold face startling a gasp from her even as she fought to slip from the band of his arm. Her gaze remained locked with Jon's as he proceeded to the steady timber of the dock with Bronn's help.
"There are officers on board the ship," he muttered in her ear, "watching our reunion, and every one panting for any indication that something is wrong. That you won't want your maimed duke any longer. Play your part one last time. It's almost over."
Oh. He looked so tired and sad. This was the least of what she could do for him, to spare him humiliation, to save his pride.
"Of course, Jaime. I'm sorry," she said, contrite, and subsided against him. With one last look at Jon, she turned her face up to Jaime's and made herself smile. She channeled all her relief and love for Jon into it, and it must have been convincing, because the tension left Jaime's face, and he smiled back.
"There you go," he said assuringly.
Overcome with affection for her old friend, she threw her arms around him and held him close.
"I have missed you," Dany murmured, "and been nearly as distraught over your injury as Brienne."
She pulled back a little to look at the stump cradled against his chest, then back up at him.
"She doesn't care, Jaime," she said quietly. "She's so happy to have you back, that you're alive, that she wouldn't care if you'd lost all four limbs. She has loved you for ten years. This little thing is not going to change that."
"Little thing?" he said, his voice raw, but with a powerful, aching hope that almost brought her to tears.
She nodded firmly. "Tiny. Minute. She'll barely notice."
"Your Grace," said Brienne from behind Dany, and she turned to see her friend had followed her, albeit at a far more dignified pace. Brienne was as still as stone, her face looking carved from granite as she stared at Jaime.
"Your Excellency," replied Jaime, his gaze hungry as it took in the tall, strong form of his beloved. "Thank you for your hospitality."
"I am honored to offer it to you," was her careful, if shaky, reply. "If you will accompany Her Highness to the carriage, I will escort Captain Snow and your companion."
"Thank you," Jaime said, his voice throbbing with emotion.
Dany snatched one last glimpse of Jon over Jaime's shoulder. He was walking— tottering, really— toward the dock with Bronn and Pod flanking him nearby, clearly ready to grab him should he list toward the water once more. Brienne strode past her and Jaime, and Dany knew Jon could be in no better hands. A word from her had Podrick deserting Jon for Jaime, his face somber.
"Welcome home, Your Grace," he said to Jaime.
"Thank you," said Jaime again, and reached to shake the boy's hand with his own… which no longer existed. The stump, tethered by the sling, stopped short before falling back to the center of Jaime's chest.
Jaime froze, and his face was a terrible, ashamed mask of self-loathing.
"No worries," Podrick said cheerfully, and held out his left hand, instead.
Jaime stared at it a long moment before slowly extending his own left hand, shaking Pod's without the grace Dany was accustomed to seeing from him. How queer it must feel, to suddenly have to do everything the other way! Her heart ached for his loss, but she was careful to keep any pity from showing. He would not appreciate it, and might even come to despise her for it. He was a proud man, very typically Lannister in that regard.
"Shall I go help Bronn with your things, ser?" asked Pod.
"Yes, please," said Jaime. With a smile, Podrick left them.
Dany positioned herself on Jaime's left and curled her hand around his elbow. Her back now to the dock and the damned nosy officers spying on them, she was able to let herself weep as she had longed to do from the first moment she had spotted the ship on the horizon.
"I'm so glad you're home," she said with a sniffle. "Brienne has been a rock, of course. Even in the face of things that would break a lesser woman such as myself… I thought she was going to fall to pieces when she learned you had been hurt, but instead she just worked harder to make Tarth perfect for you."
"Perfect?" Startled, he looked down at her with confused green eyes as they reached the carriage. "What does that mean?"
The revelation of the adaptations Brienne had begun to make for the purpose of rehabilitating Jaime was not hers to make, but Brienne's, so Dany just said, "It means that you're going to get better, and be almost as good as new, because Brienne won't permit anything less."
She preceded him into the carriage. Once he was seated beside her, she asked, "What will you want first? To eat? To bathe? To sleep?"
Jaime's shoulders slumped in exhaustion. "For now, I just want to sit," he replied. "And hold Brienne. Everything else can come later."
"You shall have your pick of chairs, ser," Dany told him, striving for lightness and humor.
He managed a smile. "So I will."
Dany placed her hand on his knee and he covered it with his own, pressing hard, as if to reassure himself it was really there, that he really was on Tarth at last.
She heard a clatter from outside, and the carriage jostled and swayed on its suspension as the duffles were tossed into the boot at the rear of the carriage, and then someone clambered up to sit beside the coachman.
The door opened, and there was Jon.
"In you get," said Jaime, holding out his hand. Jon grasped it and let Jaime pull against gravity to get him up the tiny steps into the vehicle.
Once inside, he fell heavily onto the padded leather seat across from Dany.
Brienne heaved herself in, and the carriage set forth before the door even swung shut behind her, which was just as well, because she pulled Jaime into her arms right away. Her big body shuddered, and Dany knew her friend was finally permitting herself to give in to the terror and despair she'd felt since learning of Jaime's mutilation. Brienne had held on, indomitable, until it was at last safe to be weak.
Jaime seemed to… collapse into her embrace, his forehead on her broad shoulder as his arms went around her, and then his shoulders began to shake. He submitted to her clasp, slumping against her, embracing her tightly, and Dany knew he, too, had been holding on as well. They all had been. He and Brienne murmured to each other, low whispers that Dany could not, and did not want, to hear.
She looked at Jon and found him watching her instead of their friends. Their eyes met for an endless, breathless moment, and then she blushed. It made him smile in that way he had, just the faintest curve of the mouth, infinitely tender. She could not wait one moment longer to touch him again, at long last. Dany reached up and brushed her fingertips over that curve.
"You're really here. After so long, Jon…" She cupped his face in her trembling hand, wondrous at the prickle of whiskers and the heat of him against her palm, aware she sounded like the veriest fool, and uncaring in the least. She caressed her thumb over his cheek, feeling the sharpness of his cheekbone under the thin skin covering it.
Worry and shock at his appearance was giving way to elation; she felt stupidly, wildly happy, as if she could run the perimeter of the castle— no, the entire island— shouting for joy. Eight years, it had been, since last they had been this close. Unchanged was the fresh scent of pine and fir about him, now joined by a briny hint of the sea, but the rest…
The years of war and toil had left their mark. Two pronounced scars marred his face, now. One curved along his temple, around the outer edge of his left eye, from forehead to cheek. The other slashed vertically from brow, over eye socket, to right cheek. Both gleamed pale against the nut-brown of his face. His eyes, once so deep and soft, had hardened, now resembling dragonglass far more than the velvet she had formerly compared them to. His once-pliable lips were pressed together by pain into a flat, narrow line, and the loss of weight from his recent tribulations made his cheekbones and jaw more angular and harsh.