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She dreams of warm arms wrapped around her, stump resting on her belly and long fingers tracing her skin.
She wakes with the fire at the hearth cracking and Jaime standing to take his icy clothes off.
After five days, he’s back.
When he was gone, it seemed as if the last time she saw him was a long time ago. Now that he’s back, she can hear echoes of the harsh angry words thrown at each other as if it happened an hour ago.
Brienne closes her eyes. Pretends she’s still asleep.
Jaime lays down beside her on the bed, gets himself under the furs.
She doesn’t fool him.
“I know you’re awake wench. There’s no need for pretense”
His voice is warm, soft. It brings tears to her eyes.
“On the morrow” she says, voice low, without turning to him “I’ll move my belongings to Lady Sansa’s chambers.” She should have done it while he was away. To make things easy on both of them. But she had been weak, fooling herself she had another day before he came back.
Trying not to think about the possibility he might never return.
Jaime makes a sound as if all his breath has left him at once, a sound that reminds her of when they spar and she hits him too hard.
“Are you leaving me then?” He asks, the softness of his voice gone.
“It’s.. it’s for the best. I…” Brienne swallows the lump that suddenly forms, swallows and doesn’t give herself time to think otherwise she won’t say the words at all. “I know it was my decision, and I will not hold you responsible against your will. I have laid with you willingly and there were no vows spoken, and should I and the child survive this winter, I’m sure father will-“
All the breath that had seemed to leave Jaime’s body comes back just as suddenly, and Brienne's string of words is cut off by him turning her body on her back, until he can rover above her.
“Why, exactly, are you leaving me?” He asks, voice hoarse.
“Because… it’s what you want”
Jaime closes his eyes and sighs, and when he opens them, Brienne can’t quite make out if his eyes are glistening from the fire or something else.
“I have been a fool. Forgive me. I should know by now I can’t leave you alone for long or this thick head of yours will find reasons to believe I am not exactly where I want to be”
The tears in her eyes can no longer be held back. One of them trails a path to her hairline and she quickly wipes it away with her hand. When he notices it, his face softens in a way that makes her want to cry even more.
He gathers her in his arms until they are buried in each other’s embrace.
“I haven’t…” his voice catches, and he clears his throat before trying again. “I haven’t thought about the future. I haven’t allowed myself. But if we survive…” his voice falters again. “If we survive, there’s no one else I want to be with. I’ll make you my wife as soon as the last dead creature falls to the ground. Damnit Brienne, you are my wife even if we never said the words. I have made my vows to you already a thousand times in my head”
He pulls back to stare at her.
Then his hand slowly traces a path from her back until it’s plastered on her still flat belly.
“There’s nothing I want more than seeing you heavy with child. My child.” His fingers draw patterns on her skin, tracing invisible lines. “I just wished it was summer... sapphire blue waters around our lands.”
“Why not Casterly Rock?”
Jaime kisses her, softly, and then it doesn’t seem like it’s enough for him, so he kisses her again, heated this time. Then he pulls back, just sighly, his lips still touching hers
“Casterly Rock is no place to raise a child. Can you imagine worrying yourself to death every time the little one escapes our sight and we just know they are by the cliffs, ready to jump into the sea? No, our child will be a Tarth.”
“A lion of Tarth then. Or lioness.” She murmurs.
“A Lannister of Tarth.” Jaime says, and then he stills. His eyes widen, and there’s a sudden spark in them that renders the green brilliant despite the darkness around them. “ A Lannister of Tarth. That’s what I’ll become too”.
“And I.”
Jaime looks at her, surprised.
“Would you take my name?”
“Proudly”
Jaime smiles, and she sees the hint of tears in his eyes before he kisses her again. All the while, his only hand still rests on her belly.
Brienne sleeps and Jaime moves, trying to be as quiet as possible as he rests his cheek against her belly.
The attacks are becoming more frequent now. The group he went with outside Winterfell walls found nothing, as if the dead haven’t been surrounding them for the last fortnight. But he knows they are close.
And he promised himself he wouldn’t think of the future, wouldn’t think of anything but the next dead creature to fall for his sword. He broke that promise every night he fell into Brienne’s arms, every night he drowned in her warmth and strength and softness. Broke that promise every time he couldn’t help but imagine how she would look like sweaty and spent beneath him while the light of the sun illuminated her skin.
He breaks that promise once again.
Her stomach is flat and there is no sign of who she’s carrying inside of her yet, but he already sees it. A golden haired baby with the bluest eyes. Laugh and the sea and the sun, Brienne smiling the way he likes the most, full teeth and wide lips as she swims. And his arms, holding the lightest of the weights, in a bundle of clothes and warmth by the sand.
A tiny hand holding his finger.