I'm going on a trip for a few days, so I won't update until I come back. Kisses and keep well.
I'll be back soon. :-)
The maester had given him the all clear to start training. He'd regained most of his strength and the idle days were driving him crazy, with Brienne avoiding him, Tyrion traveling North and Pod giving him the cold shoulder too. He'd been taking strolls around the castle and walked more each day, and he'd exercised to overcome the weakness of his limbs.
So that morning he headed for the training yards, determined to establish a routine of normalcy. The place was buzzing with activity and there he distinguished his comrades-at-arms. Brienne's height made her stand out, like usual. She was overseeing the drills, but she didn't take part in them. That wasn't so strange, as she was the Lady Commander, but he knew her well. She was a woman of action and she rarely skipped a drill or a sparring match. He hoped she was well, and a renewed wave of frustration stang him, because it was easier for the Red Keep to collapse than to expect an explanation from Brienne to why she was avoiding the thick of action.
The Kingsguard had changed significantly. For starters, it consisted of twice as many members, and some of them were women, apart from Brienne. One was Dornish and the other one was an extremely skilled ironborn who seemingly had been encouraged by the Lady of the Iron Islands, Yara Greyjoy, to go join Bran's Kingsguard. The rest of the brothers were young men from the Crownlands, the Stormlands, the Vale, the Reach and the Riverlands. Apparently no Northman had felt compelled enough to leave behind his frozen hole, despite Bran being a Northerner himself.
Fourteen members in total. Two of them always guarded the king inside the castle, taking turns, and when Bran had to get out of the castle, twelve escorted him, and two remained in the keep. Or one for now, until Jaime's health was fully restored. It was due time that he joined them in their daily tasks.
As Bran didn't have any trip planned for that day, most kingsguards were in the yards, and all of them looked at Jaime when he entered their field of vision. An awkward silence fell suddenly and Jaime felt self-conscious. It was as if he was a curiosity on display in a fair.
"Welcome, Ser Jaime," Brienne hurried to say in greeting, and Jaime stared at her gratefully for her gesture. His kind-hearted, chivalrous wench always to the rescue. "Come join the trainings. Perhaps you should begin with soft exercises, you shouldn't exert yourself yet," she advised, and he nodded in acquiescence. He'd swallow his own pride for the sake of his improving health. He knew she was right, and besides, he didn't want to start what would be his routine from then on with a quarrel and upset her even more. Her kindness didn't mean that she'd budged, and if he wanted to win her back, he should make her feel that he valued her opinions and advice.
The whole yard seemed to relax at once and resumed their activities while Jaime picked a blunt sword and headed for the dummies. But before practicing with the sword, he performed a series of stretching exercises, jogged for a while around the area and finally, devoted himself to his motions with the sword.
He noticed that Brienne was watching him covertly, and that satisfied him greatly. He couldn't help the smile that spread on his lips at the thought that she wasn't as indifferent as she pretended to be.
When it was time to get back to the castle to get ready for lunch, he decided that he had to talk to her about his guard turns. As for his lodgings, the White Sword Tower was under renovation for the time being to add more space for the new members, so Jaime would have to stay in his current quarters until all the Kingsguard could move into the new ones.
He caught up to Brienne and walked beside her. "Brienne, have you considered putting me in the rotation turns?," he asked without missing a beat.
She shot an annoyed glance at him. "Of course. I've made the schedule. I'll hand it to you, if you accompany me to my chamber." Brienne, as everybody else in the Kingsguard, was living in temporary quarters. "Don't get ahead of yourself," she warned immediately, before he could reply. "I'll give you the schedule and there's something I have to tell you, but refrain yourself from jumping to any conclusions, all right?"
He raised his arms in acceptance. "Fine, fine. I won't try anything, you have my word, if it's still of any value to you."
She tightened her jaw and remained quiet, showing clearly what she thought of his word. He almost sighed in renewed frustration. That was going to be as hard as he'd feared, but he wouldn't give up on trying, unless she showed him without the shadow of a doubt that she'd stopped loving him, what he hoped would never happen.
"Brienne, I respect your feelings and your space. I won't ever coerce you into anything. You know me enough to admit that I'm not lying," he assuaged.
She visibly relaxed her stance a bit. He also knew her enough to notice her reactions, no matter how subtle they were. "I know, I'm sorry. You're right," she conceded, and returned to her cautious silence.
He couldn't take her withdrawal for longer. "I've missed you these last days. You've barely dropped by to check on me," he complained softly. "I'll never tire of apologizing to you. There can't be a bigger idiot than myself in this world, for making you suffer so much and losing your trust in me. Your trust became the most important thing in my life. I've never told you this before, but it's the truth. I felt so proud that you didn't see me anymore like the rest of the world did, like the Kingslayer they considered me. That means everything. No one apart from you and Tyrion has made me feel like a whole man, like a genuinely valued person for what I am inside, beyond the surface. Nobody else has ever bothered to."
They came to a halt in front of a door. It must be the entrance to the room where she was dwelling at present. She reached for the handle and pushed the panel open, stepping aside to let him in, but he invited her to walk in first. Those gestures weren't fake with her, he truly had the impulse to be gallant by her.
She rolled her eyes slightly and preceded him inside. Her chamber was as austere as it could be expected from her, and that made him smile in fondness, remembering her simple room (their room) in Winterfell.
"Please, sit down," she offered. There was only a chair next to a table. He noticed that the bulky White Book was in a corner of the simple piece of furniture, and there were sheets of parchment piled, quills and an inkpot. She undoubtedly had been working recently on that table, and he felt curious about what she might write about him in the White Book. Not that there were lots of feats he'd achieved in his quite mediocre performance as a kingsguard.
He complied only after she took a seat on the bed next to the table. He turned around the chair to face her. "Jaime," she started, and his heart beat a little faster at the mention of his name. He loved the sound of his own name on her lips. "I'm aware I've treated you unfairly these last days. I've been avoiding you and that hasn't been kind on my part, taking into account that you've experienced a trauma and a memory loss. I apologize for my harshness. You're my brother in arms and I'll make my best to treat you fairly from now on, like my comrade and friend, as I treat everybody else in the Kingsguard," she emphasized slightly.
But not like her lover anymore, he thought, a bit disheartened. He was realizing, truly realizing, the extent of the wound he'd inflicted on her soul, and he couldn't stand the distance from her, from her warm body and bright smile, which had made him feel at home, back in Winterfell. Now all of that was out of his reach, but the worst of all was knowing that he'd betrayed her more than anyone had done before. He could barely look at himself in the mirror without feeling disgust against himself. But there had to be some way to win her heart back, and he would find it. There was no other way around it for him. He needed her like he needed his breath.
"It's me who apologizes to you, Brienne. I won't ever tire of asking for your pardon. If I could change things, I would, believe me." He was about to add I love you, and perhaps he should say it aloud, but he perceived that it wasn't the moment for that, that she wouldn't believe him yet. Saying it aloud hadn't worked before. She was a woman who believed in the power of words, of the given word, but in his case, words weren't enough after his betrayal. He would have to show her his love patiently, through his daily actions, and hope that her heart would soften and she would open herself up to him again. He wouldn't rest until he could see that shine in her eyes she exclusively saved for him.
"I know you would," she admitted. "But things are the way they are. And speaking of which, there's something you must know." She looked at her feet, visibly nervous, and that increased his own nervousness, expectant of what she was going to reveal next. "I'm... I'm pregnant, Jaime. The baby is yours, of course. You're the only man I've been with."
The ground seemed to open before him, as if an earthquake was rocking the whole world. "What? Brienne, that's... That's wonderful!," he exclaimed spontaneously, filled with a bursting joy. Of everything he might have expected her to say, that wouldn't have crossed his mind. Not that he discarded the possibility of a pregnancy happening, not by all means. They'd made love nonstop for weeks, passionately, enthusiastically, hungrily (the mere remembrance of their many hot times between the bed furs made his cock twitch eagerly in response), and he hadn't ever asked her if she drank the moon tea. Obviously she hadn't, and he was happy for it. A baby. We're going to have a baby. A child who would be a part of her.
He surprised himself with the strength of his yearning to become a father. He'd never had that chance before. His children with Cersei had hardly felt like his own. He'd loved them from afar, but hadn't allowed himself to feel like a father. Only Myrcella had succeeded in truly breaching his walls, in that boat back from Dorne, right before dying in his arms. It had been the most heart-wrenching moment of his life, at least as far a he could remember. It had hurt terribly to lose his beautiful, sweet girl, blood of his blood, so young and good and innocent.
It had been the price for his terrible sins. Feeling so impotent to save her.
But now he had another chance, a genuine chance, to have a child he could claim as his. Unless Brienne had other ideas, what he hoped wouldn't be the case. He felt like bleeding inside at the mere notion.
She was watching him attentively, most surely searching for any signs of deceit or lack of sincerity on his part. He broke a bit more. He seemingly had only been insincere to her once before, the night he'd abandoned her, but that had been enough to shatter her trust. Once more, he swore to himself that he'd restore it back.
"This baby doesn't change anything between us," she sentenced, as he expected. It hurt like hell, but it was nothing he hadn't been expecting from her. As long as it wasn't indifference what he caught in her eyes and in her demeanor, there was still hope. And no, he could perceive anything but indifference, to his relief. "We'll go on with our lives such as they are, and when the baby arrives, I won't stand in the way if you wish to act as a father to him or her. I wouldn't ever deny you your rights, or deprive the child of your presence in their life. That would be an unnecesary cruelty, and I only want the best for the baby," she clarified determinedly, and he noticed that she was intent on avoiding referring to the baby as their baby. But at least she wouldn't interfere with Jaime being there for his son or daughter. That felt like a half triumph, and left a bittersweet taste in his tongue, but it was great progress, and filled him with a happiness he'd never known. And hope, always.
Jaime nodded, offering her a loving smile. "Thank you, Brienne. That's much more than I could have hoped for. You've given me the best gift a man can receive."
And then, on impulse, he stood up and kissed her cheek. She blushed deeply, averting her eyes in embarrassment, but he was encouraged by the fact that she hadn't recoiled or shivered in disgust at his touch.
Yes, definitely it was progress.