Chapter Text
The air was sweet with the scent of new grass and blooming wildflowers, the once-endless winter’s sharp bite now a distant memory. As the world outside stirred awake, bathed in the gentle light of dawn, Jaime Lannister savoured the sight of the woman sleeping beside him.
Brienne lay curled on the furs, her pale hair a wild tangle against the black pelt, her skin aglow in the golden hues of morning. She looked almost otherworldly in this light, like a warrior goddess resting after battle. And in a way, she was. His fingers traced a slow, meandering path over her shoulder and down her side, pausing at the raised ridges of scars he knew better than his own. Beneath his touch, her flesh was warm and solid, each scar with its own story.
His hand paused at her ribs, lingering on a scar carved long ago, a reminder of a betrayal that had nearly cost her life. He could still see the flash of steel in the firelight, hear the chaos of shouts, and feel the cold knot of terror that had seized him when he’d turned to find her bleeding. That night had left a scar on him as deep as the one beneath his fingers. He had kissed this mark so many times it was a wonder his lips hadn’t worn it smooth.
Slowly, his hand slid lower, resting over the gentle swell of her belly. Life stirred there, fragile yet fierce, and he wondered—not for the first time—if their child would inherit her strength or her maddening stubbornness. Perhaps both.
Her eyes flickered open at his touch, blue as the summer sky, and her lips curled into a smile. It wasn’t the wide, toothy grin she sometimes allowed herself in moments of triumph but the small, soft smile that seemed meant for him alone.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low and warm. “Good. I was starting to wonder if I’d have to ride south alone.”
A ship waited for them at White Harbour, its sails ready to take them south. To Tarth. To a life Jaime had scarcely dared to imagine for himself—not after all his sins. He wasn’t sure he deserved it, but Brienne seemed to think otherwise, and he had long since learned to trust her judgment over his own.
“You’d get lost before you made it past the Neck,” Brienne replied, her voice still thick with sleep.
“Maybe,” Jaime said, his tone light with mock seriousness. “Or perhaps I’ll stay behind. Someone has to keep the snow from creeping south again.”
Brienne snorted softly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “You? The man who’s spent the last year and a half cursing the cold? I’ll believe that when I see it.”
Jaime smirked, his hand splayed over the gentle swell of her belly. “Well, I’ve been known to do the occasional improbable thing. Marrying you, for instance.”
A quiet laugh escaped Brienne before she could suppress it, her cheeks faintly flushed. “You always know how to charm me, don’t you?”
Her gaze softened, lingering on him as a comfortable silence settled between them. At last, she shifted, her expression taking on that familiar air of certainty he had come to admire—and occasionally curse.
“Tarth will suit you,” she said as she placed her hand over his, their fingers entwining. “You’ll see.”
Jaime leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of her neck, lingering there as though to draw her warmth into himself. “It doesn’t matter where we go,” he murmured against her skin. “North, south, or even to the edge of the world. As long as you’re there, I’ll be content.”
“What if the sea air turns you into an unbearable arse?” Brienne asked as she brushed her finger through his unruly hair. Her touch was gentle as she swept it back from his face.
“Then you’ll set me straight, as you always do.”
Her laughter followed, unguarded and bright, like sunlight breaking through shadows. Jaime buried his face against her shoulder, his arm tightening around her waist as his leg slid over hers, tangling them together. In her embrace—safe and warm while the world stirred awake from its long, cold slumber—he allowed himself to believe that he might truly deserve this second chance.