Chapter Text
The Future
Jaime narrowed his eyes, an urge to strangle the image of the boy rising like bile in his throat. When would he and Brienne stop becoming pieces to move around the board? It was a thought that had continuously plagued him over the years, when the Darkness had not occupied the powers in Westeros, but recently, he had come to realize the answer to his question: When you have nothing left to hide.
Arya continued hurriedly, “It was my idea, Jaime. Sansa does not even know what I have done.”
“The moon tea…” he moaned. There was a part of him that still held hope that he had not been tricked into another plot, but Jaime could feel the walls that had felt so far away a moment ago rise like icebergs and surround the peace he had tried to hide himself in.
“Just some terribly tasting herbs I found,” she shrugged, waving a hand dismissively. “After all, Brienne would not know what moon tea tastes like.”
No, no, no. She was supposed to want to have my child. Not like this. “The maester prepares the tea for her.”
“He is one of mine,” Arya replied. Her dark eyes softened and for the first time since Jaime had met Arya the assassin, he saw some guilt and pity in her stolen face. “He has been watching and taking care of her during her sickness. As soon as he knew for sure she has been ill because of her pregnancy, I came.”
The fire of his anger was washing up against the icy shores of his fear. He swallowed, trying to make sense of the ramifications of not only Arya’s actions, but Tyrion’s role as well. “If my brother is truly trying to unseat us all and I will be used as a means to start war, they will take my child from me. You have condemned Brienne and I, Arya.”
The remorseful glance was immediately drowned in Jaime’s accusations, forcing the body of the boy to sit up taller and regard him with a cold stare. Jaime had learned long ago that the wolf still stirred in the Stark girl. He had watched as the playful, willful child would disappear behind eyes as frigid as the Darkness and they held no sympathy now. “I am saving us all. You would not have done what I need you to unless you had something to truly loose. You may not care about remaining a warden but you will care about that baby.”
“And what if this still does not work and the city guard cuts us down?”
“They will not! You have created an army. There are knights all over the Free Cities, answering only to the Wardens of the East. Essos will rally under you to keep some control of their lands from the mother that has abandoned them for some throne across the sea. They will not stand for Daenerys naming yet another, especially when your heir is already in Brienne’s belly. Announce yourself at court today, infront of your wife and Tyrion and Pentos and you will not be alone. The other wardens are on their way.”
Jaime snorted. He was beginning to wonder if it truly was Arya since she was throwing practiced lines at him that sounded more like her romantic sister. “The women have come so that we may all die together?”
“So that unity is still evident in the powers that be! I get you are worried, but, listen, if the court turns on you, I will steal Brienne away and keep her in hiding. I swear to you, she will live.”
Though Jaime did not want to admit it, he knew Brienne would refuse to leave his side again, child or no. But the promise of her safety was enough and Arya had made sure that he had no choice but to do as she says or else risk loosing his child. “If we survive this, you had best stay clear of my wife. She has a foul temper and a sharp blade.”
The Summer Islander boy let out a breath he had been holding and crawled back in order to quickly slip into the shadows of the alcove. “She will understand. Tell her…tell her the boy in the roots said that she will have blue eyes, like her mother.” With that haunting piece of information, Jaime let Arya disappear into the walls of Pentos.
He was left sitting alone on the bench, feeling the hum of the sound of rain pattering on the tiled roof, the smell of the moist trees lingering like a perfume in the air, and the hazy sight of the city he had tried to call home. His senses were overloaded with everything that he had tried to push away as his body willed itself to absorb the impact of Arya’s words. Jaime recalled long ago, standing on the Wall with Brienne before the sun set for good, listening while she recounted a dream of warning from a boy with crow’s eyes, trapped beneath a tree. He was swallowing hard to try to remove the lump in his throat, blinking his eyes to clear his watery vision. A daughter. Another daughter. But she would be truly his this time. He grinned and pushed off of the bench, making his way determinedly to the Capital.
Pod was helping Jaime into Lord Jarod’s armor in the chambers off of the throne room when Brienne entered. She was dressed all in blue again, even her leather jerkin had been dyed a deep midnight color. The memory of seeing her arrive in Pentos, clothed in blue, eyes staring intently only at him, sent a wash of comfort through Jaime’s rolling insides and he could not help but look towards her stomach, hoping to find signs of the life they had made. Together.
“I thought we had decided that you would meet Tyrion privately,” she said as a way of greeting. Jaime could feel her annoyance, but she still moved Pod aside so that she could finish dressing Jaime herself. As her warm fingers brushed across his skin and her breath caressed his neck, Jaime had a desire to take the mother of his child one last time before their world was altered once more.
“Matters have changed, Brienne,” he replied carefully, watching her reaction to his words. “I am going to make an announcement to the court and to Tyrion. But I need to know that you will stand with me, no matter what happens, and that you will keep Oathkeeper close, too.”
Brienne continued lacing his gauntlet, though she pulled tighter than was necessary. She did not meet his eyes, seeming intent on her task while she chewed her lip, fighting to keep back the remarks about secrecy and recklessness that would spew from her mouth if she opened it. Jaime moved his right arm to tilt her chin up so that he could see the sapphires she would give to their daughter. He smiled in assurance and brushed his mouth over hers in attempt to soothe and distract her. Brienne responded by biting his bottom lip and licking away the sudden, sharp pain. Gods, this is not helping to extinguish my arousal.
“I trust you,” she finally said. Her own eyes were darkening as her fingers sought the little bits of his body that were still exposed. “But after this, no more secrets.”
“No more secrets,” Jaime promised, feeling for the first time what a relief a vow could bring. “Now hand me that helm and try to remember how much you love me.”
By the time the Wardens of the East stood on the dais, the court of Pentos, composed of the representatives of the Free Cities and counselors of Essos, had been assembled and Jaime’s brother was standing in front of the marble steps, flanked by two members of Daenerys’s Queensguard. Tyrion appeared amused about the change of plans, but Jaime noted the twitch of his lips, indicating his displeasure. Good.
In the confines of the headpiece, Jaime had to turn his neck completely to see Brienne at his side, holding his left hand. She was gazing out at the crowd, her search skimming over the faces that she recognized, nodding her head to acknowledge those that sought out her attention. Her stout frame tensed as she settled on a new face. Jaime watched as her brow creased and her mouth opened. “Is that…” So at least Arya is here.
“People of Pentos,” Jaime began, looking away from his wife but feeling the heat from her stare through the armor. “We have been honored with a much awaited guest! Lord Tyrion, your presence in Essos has been sorely missed. We humbly invite you, as envoy to the Mother of Dragons to enjoy what is hers and bring her pleasant news of her children across the Narrow Sea.”
Tyrion grinned menacingly. In all of Jaime’s years as his brother, he had never been able to be a step ahead of Tyrion when it came to politics. He tried to bask in the surprise that Tyrion was in for, before his own head would be lopped off. “Her Grace will be relieved to know firsthand that the people of the Free Cities are thriving. She regrets her absence and wishes that my visit will be the first of many for myself and also with the queen. I bring a gift as well, a piece of Westeros to hang in the court of the Capitol.” Tyrion gestured to servants hovering by the guards. They rushed forward, unfurling a tapestry depicting a battle scene in the Darkness, three dragons shooting flames into the sky that melted together to become the rising sun. Jaime wanted to laugh. Needlework and the Imp will not make the people fall back in love with their mother. Brienne and I are the only power that they bend the knee to now and I have inadvertently distanced myself from the child queen long ago when I had to refuse to make the voyage to King’s Landing. Tyrion’s presence and the weak attempt to place a reminder of the west in the Capitol would only serve to make it appear that Daenerys had to placate Jaime and come to him.
“It is a beautiful cloth,” Jaime replied loudly, hoping his voice reached the ear of every wealthy man and woman in the hall. “But Pentos already has its own piece of Westeros.” He pulled his hand from Brienne’s just as she begun to move in front of him, sensing what he was to do next. Jaime stepped to the side and wrenched off the helm, tossing it down the marble steps to land at Tyrion’s feet.
Jaime paused as the representatives took in his face. Those who did not recognize him whispered to others, questioning the gasps and murmurs that swelled like a wave, moving from the counselors close to him and crashing against the crowd in the back. He caught some mumbles of “Kingslayer” and “Lannister”, but “Goldenhand” seemed to have surfaced from the tide of disbelief like a lifeline. Brienne was clinging to his arm now, trying to hiss warnings and pleading in his ear. He was not listening, but he shook his head anyway at what he knew was escaping her mouth faster than her breaths and tried to shake his hand from her grasp. He was letting the court recover from the shock while he studied the face of his brother. Tyrion simply crossed his arms and smiled at him, seeming to enjoy the display and not showing a single sign of the satisfactory surprise that Jaime had been praying for. Perhaps Arya and the other wardens had not been as secretive as they had thought and Jaime began to wonder about the source of the whispers that had reached the women.
“Queen Daenerys spared my life and faked my death because of the revenge that Westeros sought against the Kingslayer,” Jaime roared above the din, pulling his eyes away from his brother. “But here in the Free Cities, I am just a man. Here I have served the people faithfully. Here is my home and my people, who have never deserved to be ruled by a faceless shell. I swear that Her Grace has not been my puppeteer and that it is I who has been honored to be Essos’s voice these years. I beg you now to look upon the man that has served you and continue to allow me to do so.”
“The Lady Brienne…” one of the Lyseni counselors began.
“Only knew of my identity upon our wedding day, but she married me willingly. Our union is one of love.” Jaime squeezed into Brienne’s palm, turning to smile at her. She held his fingers so hard that he wanted to laugh at the fear of loosing his remaining hand to her grip. She did not return the smile, nor could she hide the terror and dismay that flashed across her face when her features were hidden from the court.
The name dancing along the marble of the room had shifted to that of “Lady Oathkeeper”. Jaime hoped that Brienne’s faith in him swayed some of the representatives to accept him as well. “The queen may have seated me,” Jaime continued. “But now I ask for your votes to allow me to remain. I swear to continue to rule in the interests of the people of the Free Cities and no other. This is where I have found peace, where I have taken the only woman I would ever want, where our child will be raised…” Jaime extracted his hand so that he could cup Brienne’s stomach and he could swear he felt a small bump on the typically hard plain of her abdomen.
The rumble of muttering burst like a thunder clap. Brienne tried to push away his hand, anger clouding her blue eyes as she seemed to have assumed he was lying about a potential heir to gather favor. Jaime snaked his right arm around her waist to pull her closer. He kissed her ear before whispering, “That boy you dreamed about so long ago wanted us to know he saw our little girl. She will have blue eyes, Brienne.”
She was shaking under his arms, staring at him still with fear, and Jaime found he had to support her weight. “How…?”
At that moment, the doors to the throne room opened and in walked the other wardens, followed by their own guards and advisors. Jaime was pleased to find Ser Daavos Seaworth and Sandor Clegane flanking Sansa Stark. He did not appreciate the sight of Hyle Hunt, however. He had not forgotten the man’s attempts at Brienne after Jaime had been sent to Pentos.
There was a presence behind Jaime and he found Addam and Pod standing behind his chair. The court seemed to also sense the shift in the marble room as the West appeared suddenly. Jaime held Brienne tighter, unsure of how this would alter the tide of whispers and tried to find Arya in the crowd once more.
Arianne spoke up, her sweet voice carrying commandingly to the high arches of the ceiling. “Westeros will respect the decision of the Free Cities, but the South stands behind Jaime Lannister.” The presence of the wardens was only required to voice their support for Jaime as their equal. If they attempted to sway the court or try to remain too long as a display of pressure, the pride and independence of the people of Essos could well push their decision away from the desires of the west. Jaime was relieved that the women seemed to understand enough to keep their statements short.
“The Far West welcomes back Goldenhand,” Asha barked, arms folded and seemingly unwilling to speak more.
“The North remembers,” Sansa hailed regally. “But what of Her Grace, Lord Tyrion? As her envoy to the East now, what say you?”
Tyrion did not appear in the least disturbed by his position. He was not looking at Jaime, though, his blue and green eyes lingering on the hand that still clutched Brienne’s stomach. “The queen will honor the choice of Essos. I look forward to the generations of lions in Pentos, brother.” With that, he stepped back so that he stood amongst the other wardens and their retinue. Asha eyed him warily, thumbing her dirk, but Sansa rested a delicate hand on his shoulder, forcing Ser Daavos and the Hound to frown.
There was a moment of silence in which Jaime could only hear the faint hum of murmurs as the representatives spoke amongst themselves. Some openly pointed at Tyrion or at Brienne, while others stared at the circle of wardens that stood at the base of the dais. As the tension flowed through the throne room, drowning the court and rising up to the darkened rafters, it burst as a Volatene counselor shouted “The Lion of the East”. Others took up the call while some more chanted “Lady Oathkeeper” and “Goldenhand” again. Jaime watched as a handful of the representatives slipped silently through the open doors. He had expected to loose Lorath and Tyrosh, along with many coastal towns. Those that left, however, glanced at the knights of the Free Cities, who stood at the entrance, most likely wondering if their dissension would cause more men of the wardens to pour through their gates. Jaime did not expect that those that fled would be an issue and it appeared he was still to be Warden of the East.
Jaime turned to stare down Tyrion until his brother looked at him. He jerked his head towards the door that led to his chambers and, pulling a heavy Brienne, made his way out of the throne room, hoping that Tyrion would follow.
When the guards shut the door, enclosing them within warm stone that only whispered with the commotion that was still sending the representatives of the Free Cities in upheaval, Jaime regarded the Imp. “How much did you know?”
“Why, brother, you wound me,” Tyrion rolled his eyes. When they stopped their circuit in his scarred face, he was looking at Brienne. “I knew that little assassin was cunning but I did not think she had it in her to plant a lion in your belly, Brienne. I will have to employ her at King’s Landing.”
“I should have stabbed you with that cheese knife back in my cell,” Brienne snapped. She wrenched her hand from Jaime’s grasp and stood back from the both of them. “Lannisters…”
“I promised no more secrets after this, remember?” Jaime spoke up hastily before Tyrion outwitted his wife until she dissolved into a string of threats. “I received a note from Arya a week ago and went today to find out for myself how she discovered me and what she wanted. You were still recovering from your illness and I did not want to unduly disturb you.”
“That excuse will grow wearisome for the next seven months,” Tyrion piped up.
Jaime rounded on him. He wanted to feel consumed with anger and hurt, but he had learned long ago that he could not call up those emotions so easily with his brother anymore. Though Tommen and Myrcella were still safe in the west and his wife shifted uneasily a short distance from them, Tyrion was now the only person who understood all of him, including the man that Brienne had only experienced a taste of. They had wronged each other at so many turns that Jaime could only feel dizzy and tired when he stared down at his brother. He sighed, taking a knee so that they were at the same level. “Must we play this game until we are both dead, Tyrion? Will you continue it in the seven hells?”
Tyrion snorted. “Both of us have learned long ago that there can be no fate worse than life.”
“You led Arya here and forced the warden’s hands,” Jaime murmured, no longer uncertain of the warden’s anonymous source. “The queen would have no choice but to start picking us off in order to quell a rebellion so you forced us to create our own. After today, if she gives in to the antagonists, she will have to face forces from all sides. Now all she can do is to allow us to keep our seats and find another way to deal with the dissenters, a decision I am sure you will help her to make.”
“You are forgetting that your babe sets precedent now,” Tyrion laughed. “Essos seems to like the idea of an heir to take up the seat.”
“Is this how you show love, goodbrother?” Brienne asked. She sounded overwhelmed and weary, but her fury had quelled as she stood witness to the paths the two brothers were setting for themselves. “When do we stop becoming a means to an end?”
“When it ends,” Tyrion replied. For a moment, his features were cast in hard stone, but then he broke the visage by sighing and scratching the skin where his nose should have been. “Are you not tired, Brienne? We have been through war and peace together, but the game has never stopped. I play it like I breath, but you two seem to keep floundering and gasping for air. If you consider yourselves pieces for me to move, then take this as my attempt to pull you from the board.” Jaime placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder, forcing his attention back on him. Tyrion offered a lopsided smile that would have fit just as well on Jaime’s face and placed his small fingers on Jaime’s wrist. “Send the child to me later on. It will need to learn how to play cyvasse from one as skilled as me.”
Jaime watched as Tyrion pushed through the wooden door, the rush of the excitement in the throne room churned in the quiet hallway and was swept back out again as the door swung slowly closed. He waited until the sight of his brother’s back was lost and thought that this was most likely the last time he would ever see him.
The sound of Brienne’s fading footsteps caused him to turn around. He followed her to their rooms, watching the taut muscles of her shoulders shift as she clenched and unclenched her fists. She did not speak as she opened the door, nor did she look in his eyes as he closed it and bolted it shut. Her hands were still steady as she wordlessly began to remove his armor. There were no tender caresses or shivers of delight as she bared him for her touch. She was stiff and harsh, but Jaime simply knew to let her thoughts play out in her mind, waiting for her to find what she wanted to say while fearing her rejection of their child.
“I have barely become to trust myself as a wife,” she sighed, rubbing her hands on her firm thighs when she was done. “I have been trying to find myself again these past months. It feels different now, holding Oathkeeper and training with the knights after I have spent the evening with you.” Jaime could not stop himself from reaching out to take her hand as she averted her gaze and had the decency to blush, thinking about their nights together. “I am a fighter and I am also a woman. That has not changed, obviously. But I feel how much of a woman I am especially when I fight these days. So, what will happen now that I cannot do what I have always done? When I can only be a woman? How can I keep my strength if something happens to…her? Or me?” She looked at him then and he realized what she was saying. He wondered himself how he was going to put up his wall again and laugh at her innocence and fumbling, swallowing his own fears or feeling the need to quell hers. He did not think that he could wake up and glare at his stump, using it as a symbol of the harshness of life. He was not able to dwell on much besides the freeing notion that all of the Free Cities must now know that Brienne of Tarth was married to Jaime Lannister and carried his child. There were no more lies and no more places to hide. He had stepped out beyond what he had known with Cersei and what he had been so fearful he would fall back into with Brienne, confusing their embraces and their motives. But there were only sapphires now.
“Wife, I need not remind you of how much of a woman you are,” Jaime said, smiling as her eyes narrowed at him. “And I have enough scars, wench, to show you that at times I am convinced you are the Warrior reborn. So, what makes you think you will be anything less when you are a mother as well…Brienne?”
She was in his arms then, large and poking out in all the places he could not contain her. When her scarred check pressed to the stubble on his chin, Jaime felt a warm dampness on their skin and he was not sure if it came from her or from him. “If you are anything of a father as you have been as a husband, then she will grow up to be terribly spoiled.”
“And if you are as hard of a mother as you are a wife, I will be limping,” Jaime laughed. He brushed back a rough strand of straw hair, exposing her face to him. Before he could tilt his head to kiss her, Brienne leaned in, trembling slightly, as she ran her lips along his jaw, trailing familiar warmth to capture his lips. She sighed, one hand ghosting across his stump and the other tracing his collarbone. Jaime chuckled breathlessly, pulling away to ask, “You are not too disappointed about starting a family this early, then?”
Brienne studied his eyes, searching for something he was afraid he could not give her, watching as her own sapphires were floating in crystal tears. She placed her hands gently on her stomach and tried a coy smile, her buck teeth sucking on her plump lips and Jaime did not wonder how she had become pregnant in such a short time, moon tea or no. “I suppose we will have to make the most of the next months alone together.”
Jaime planned to waste no more time.