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It is late on their tenth day together when he returns to their room. They have been discreet, he thinks, always leaving the dining hall separately – although the way he looks at her tells its own tale.
When he enters, already unbuckling his sword belt, he can tell that something is wrong. She is seated at the small table, not yet changed into her nightclothes (not that she ever wears them for long). A small chain of coloured beads sits on the table in front of her. He has never seen her wear it, but she plays with it every day, and it is one of the things that she does not like him to touch. The fire is roaring – if anything, the room is even hotter than it was on that first night. There is a strain around her mouth that he has not seen since before the battle.
“You will need to sleep elsewhere this evening, Jaime,” she says, and he wonders what has happened, what he could have done.
“Has someone said something?” he asks, reflexively stepping towards her. “I could beat them for you, if they have – or you could beat them and I could stand watch.”
Her lips twitch. “No, it isn’t that.”
“Then what?” he asks, placing his sword on the chest at the foot of the bed – their bed. “Have I offended you in some way? More than the usual, I mean.”
She shakes her head, blushing, and gestures at the chain before her. “It is – my woman’s time.”
He frowns. Which woman? She is his woman, maybe, but who is – oh.
“You are bleeding?”
She nods. He knows little of this, beyond that he was banished from his sister’s bed at certain times.
“But that is all, I think. You haven’t suddenly grown poisonous spikes, or a tail, or pustulous sores?” He is fairly certain – optimistic, even – that none of these things is the case.
She rolls her eyes at him.
“Of course I will leave if you wish,” he says, stressing that she has a choice here. “But I have cleaned your blood after battles, just as you have cleaned mine. I’m scarcely going to faint at the notion.”
She smiles at him then, and he relaxes a little, beginning to undo his leather jerkin. “Right, well that’s settled then. Might I assist my lady with her boots?”
Later, in bed, she turns to him, smoothing his hair away from his face.
“Jaime, I can hear you thinking, it’s so loud.”
He leans in to kiss her. “I just realised that we have never talked about the possibility of a child. I mean, we’ve hardly been careful.”
Her silence lasts too long. He nudges her chin with his hand, raising her head to face him. “I did think about it,” she admits, “before … when you first came to me.”
“And?” he prompts gently, lowering his hand to gently rub her lower back, where she seems to like it.
“And this doesn’t seem the right time.”
He nods and hums his agreement. “But –” and he is hesitant even to ask, but somehow he needs to know. “There might – someday – be a right time?” and there is more to this question than he is saying, and they both know it.
She kisses him gently. “After all this,” she says quietly. “When this is over, …” her voice trails away, but it is enough. He holds her close, her head resting on his shoulder, as they fall asleep together, dreaming of an After.